VOLUT 


L.T.  HOBHOUSE 


MORALS    IN    EVOLUTION 


MORALS 
IN   EVOLUTION 

J  STUDY  IN  COMPARATIVE  ETHICS 


L.   T.    HOBHOUSE,    D.Litt. 

MARTIN     WHITE     PROFESSOR     OF    SOCIOLOCiV     IN     THK     UNIVERSITY     OF      LONDON. 

LATE  FKLLOW   AND  ASSISTANT  TUTOR  OF  CORPUS  CHHISTI  OOLLBGE,  OXFORD. 

FORMBRLY    FELLOW    OF   M8RTON  COLLEGE 


FIFTH    EDITION 


NEW  YORK 
HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 


iTtry 


Xo&s-d 


PRINTED    IN    (iRKAT    HKITAIN 


PREFACE 

The  purpose  of  the  present  work  is  to  approach  the  theory 
of  ethical  evolution  through  a  comparative  study  of  rules  of 
conduct  and  ideals  of  life.  In  this  branch  of  evolutionary 
science  theory  and  fact  sometimes  tend  to  fall  apart.  Hypo- 
theses may  be  formed  by  the  method  of  brilliant  conjecture 
without  any  firm  basis  in  the  actual  history  of  the  moral  con- 
sciousness, while  that  history  as  revealed  in  the  mass  of  recorded 
customs  and  doctrines  concerning  conduct  sometimes  tends  to  be 
lost  in  a  mass  of  anthropological  detail  wherein  it  is  impossible 
to  see  the  wood  for  the  trees.  The  attempt  made  in  these  volumes 
is  to  ascertain  the  main  features  of  development,  and  by  piecing 
them  together  to  present  a  sketch  in  which  the  essentials  of  the 
whole  process  will  be  depicted  in  outline. 

In  this  method  of  handhng  the  subject,  no  hypothesis  as 
to  the  causes  of  evolution  is  required.  Even  the  hypothesis 
of  evolution  itself  is  not  strictly  necessary.  Our  object  is  to 
distinguish  and  classify  dififerent  forms  of  ethical  ideas  — a 
morphology  of  ethics  comparable  to  the  physical  morphology 
of  animals  and  plants.  The  results  of  such  a  comparative 
study,  if  firmly  based  on  recorded  facts,  would  remain  standing 
if  the  theory  of  evolution  were  shattered.  At  the  same  time, 
here  as  elsewhere,  the  results  of  classification  when  seen  in 
the  light  of  evolutionary  theory  acquire  a  wholly  new  signifi- 
cance and  value.  They  furnish  us  with  a  conception  of  the 
trend  of  human  development  based  not  on  any  assumption  as 
to  the  underlying  causes  at  work,  but  on  a  matter-of-fact  com- 
parison of  the  achievements  reached  at  different  stages  of  the 
process  itself. 


vi  PREFACE 

Little,  therefore,  will  be  said  here  of  the  psychological  forces 
which  underlie  the  ethical  consciousness;  little  of  the  socio- 
logical and  other  factors  which  accelerate  or  retard  development. 
These  He  for  the  most  part  outside  our  immediate  province. 
It  is  the  essential  facts  of  development  itself  that  we  are  seeking 
to  ascertain.  Such  an  inquiry  encounters  many  difficulties  of 
its  own.  Vast  and  complex  subjects  must  be  handled  with  a 
brevity  which  to  one  specially  interested  in  them  will  appear 
quite  inadequate.  The  conclusions  of  a  hundred  specialisms 
must  be  used  by  one  who  from  the  nature  of  the  case  cannot 
himself  be  a  specialist  in  any  of  them.  Hence  the  openings  alike 
for  error  of  detail  and  for  disproportion  of  general  handling  are 
great.  Nor  is  it  possible  to  avoid  subjects  of  controversy.  For 
the  study  of  development,  the  ethics  of  civilization  are  not  less, 
but,  if  anything,  more  important  than  those  of  savagery,  and 
have  therefore  received  closer  attention  in  this  work.  But  the 
complexities  of  civilized  ethics,  interwoven  as  they  are  with 
religious  and  pohtical  doctrines,  can  only  be  treated  within  the 
limits  of  a  general  sketch  by  keeping  strictly  to  what  is  distinctive 
and  fundamental  in  each  system,  and  of  this  only  so  much  is 
selected  for  discussion  as  is  deemed  to  have  a  bearing  on  ethical 
development.  In  such  selection  the  general  philosophic  bias  of 
the  inquirer  is  only  too  apt  to  have  an  influence.  Further,  it  is 
a  part  of  the  plan  of  the  work  to  estimate  critically  the  position 
of  each  system  in  the  line  of  ethical  development,  and  in  such 
criticism  it  is  still  harder  to  put  aside  all  preconceived  opinions. 
The  alternative  would  be  to  omit  the  ethics  of  Christendom  and 
the  problems  of  modern  thought  altogether.  This  I  felt  would 
mutilate  the  inquiry,  and  I  have  accordingly  endeavoured  to 
treat  these  subjects  precisely  on  the  same  footing  and  in  the  same 
spirit  as  others,  that  is  to  say,  as  phases  of  development  to  be 
critically  but  quite  impartially  examined.  In  the  sketch  of 
modern  philosophy,  however,  I  have  briefly  set  forth  the  analysis 
of  the  fundamental  problems  which  expresses  mj  own  views, 
and  in  the  final  chapter  I  have  drawn  some  broad  conclusions 
from  the  general  trend  of  ethical  development. 

My   obligations   to   other    writers    are,   I  hope,    adequately 


PREFACE  vii 

acknowledged  in  detail.  Dr.  Westermarck's  important  work  on 
the  Origin  and  Growth  of  the  Moral  Ideas  would  have  been  of 
immense  value  to  me  had  it  appeared  a  little  earlier.  It  is 
particularly  satisfactory  to  me  to  find  that  so  far  as  we  cover 
the  same  field  my  results  generally  harmonize  with  his,  and 
this  notwithstanding  a  material  divergence  in  ethical  theory. 
On  almost  every  page  of  some  of  my  chapters  references  to  his 
volume  might  be  added  to  my  footnotes,  and  with  certain 
questions  raised  by  his  inquiry  I  have  dealt  in  an  appendix. 
I  have  to  thank  many  friends  for  advice  as  to  reading  on  special 
subjects.  Among  them  I  should  like  to  name  Mr.  Hagberg 
Wright  of  the  London  Library,  Mr.  LI.  Griffith,  and  the  late 
Mr.  W.  T.  Arnold.  Prof.  VinogradofE  and  Dr.  Estlin  Carpenter 
have  most  kindly  read  large  portions  of  the  MS.,  and  suggested 
many  valuable  criticisms,  though  of  course  neither  of  them  is  to 
be  held  responsible  for  anything  that  is  here  printed.  Lastly, 
I  have  to  thank  Dr.  Slaughter,  Secretary  of  the  Sociological 
Society,  and  Miss  M.  Harris,  for  undertaking  the  heavy  and 
responsible  task  of  verifying  the  references. 


L.   T.    HOBHOUSE. 


Wimbledon,  June  1906. 


PREFACE  TO  SECOND  EDITION 

Apart  from  emendations  on  a  few  points  of  detail,  to  which 
reviewers  or  correspondents  have  kindly  drawn  my  attention,  no 
alterations  have  been  made  in  this  edition.  I  may  take  this 
opportunity  of  thanking  Mr.  G.  F.  Deas  for  useful  information 
as  to  the  Scottish  Marriage  Law,  and  I  may  perhaps  be  allowed 
to  add  that  no  greater  service  can  be  done  to  a  book  of  this 
kind  than  the  pointing  out  by  specialists  of  errors  of  commission 
or  omission  in  their  respective  provinces. 

November  1907. 


viii  PREFACE 


PREFACE   TO   THIRD    EDITION 

For  the  present  edition  the  whole  work  has  been  revised  and 
a  good  part  rewritten.  For  this  purpose  I  have  largely  made  use 
of  work  done  by  myself  in  collaboration  with  Mr.  G.  C.  Wheeler 
and  Mr.  M.  Ginsberg,  and  published  under  the  title  of  The 
Material  Culture  and  Social  Institutions  of  the  Simpler  Peoples, 
by  Messrs.  Chapman  &  Hall.  The  numerous  references  to  that 
work  must  be  taken  as  so  many  acknowledgments  to  my 
colleagues,  and  I  have  further  to  thank  Mr.  Ginsberg  for  help 
in  the  verification  of  references.  My  thanks  are  also  due  to 
Mr.  R.  R.  Marett  for  valuable  criticisms  of  the  chapters  dealing 
with  early  rehgious  thought,  and  to  Mr.  F.  H.  Griffith,  Mr,  S.  A. 
Cook,  Dr.  Estlin  Carpenter  and  Dr.  F.  B.  Jevons  for  useful 
suggestions.  Also,  since  this  book  was  first  written,  I  have  had 
the  good  fortune  to  be  associated  in  academic  work  with  Prof. 
Westermarck,  Prof.  Seligmann,  Dr.  Rivers  and  Dr.  Haddon, 
from  all  of  whom  I  have  learnt  something  which  I  trust  has 
contributed  to  the  improvement  of  the  work. 

L.    T.    HOBHOTTSE. 
Highgate, 
April  1915 

NOTE   TO   FOURTH   EDITION 

In  the  last  edition  of  this  book,  printed  during  the  war,  it  was 
pointed  out  that  the  account  of  international  ethics,  and  indeed  of 
the  whole  development  of  the  humanitarian  ideal,  was  based  on  the 
period  preceding  that  catastrophe.  No  attempt  was  made  at  a 
judgment  of  the  new  situations  which  would  have  involved  present 
controversy  and  future  speculation  rather  than  recorded  history. 
After  eight  yep.,rs  it  might  be  expected  that  the  task  should  be 
undertaken.  But  those  years  have  unfortunately  served  only  to 
darken  the  clouds  which  hang  over  our  whole  civilisation.  The 
one  thing  clear  is  the  magnitude  of  the  breach.  Any  discussion  of 
the  possibility  of  saving  the  civilised  order  from  international  and 
civil  anarchy  would  be  worthless  without  an  elaborate  analysis  of 
post-war  conditions  which  could  not  be  attempted  as  an  adjunct  to 
a  work  like  the  present.  I  have  therefore  left  these  chapters  un- 
altered and  have  restricted  emendations  to  one  or  two  minor  points 
in  other  parts. 

L.  T.  H. 
April,  1923. 


CONTENTS 


PART   I 

THE   STANDARD 


CHAP.  PAGE 

I      THE   SCOPE   AND   METHOD    OF    COMPARATIVE    ETHICS  1 


II  FORMS   OF   SOCIAL   ORGANIZATION 

III  LAW   AND   JUSTICE 

IV  MARRIAGE   AND    THE    POSITION    OF   WOMEN 
V  WOMEN    IN   THE   CIVILIZED    WORLD     . 

VI  THE   RELATIONS   BETWEEN   COMMUNITIES 

VII  CLASS    RELATIONS 

VIII  PROPERTY   AND    POVERTY  .  .  ,  , 

SUMMARY    ..<,.... 


38 

70 
132 
179 
233 
270 
318 
354 


PART  II 

THE    BASIS 

I      THE   EARLY   PHASES    OF   THOUGHT       .  ,  ,  .  365 

II      ETHICAL   CONCEPTIONS    IN    EARLY   THOUGHT       .  .  419 

III      THE   WORLD    AND   THE    SPIRIT 459 

IV      MONOTHEISM        ,  ,  .  .  .        #  .  •  .  489 


IX 


X  CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAO" 

V      ETHICAL    IDEALISM 527 

VI      PHILOSOPHIC    ETHICS 544 

VII      MODERN   ETHICS 568 

VIII  THE   LINE    OF   ETHICAL    DEVELOPMENT         ,            ,            ,  613 

INDEX  9  »  »  ,  c  ,  ,  i  ,  639 


LIST  OF  ABBREVIATIONS 


Alabaster  ==  Alabaster,  E.  :   Notes  and  Commentaries  on  Chinese  Criminal 

Law,  1889. 
Amelineau  =  Amelineau  :    La  Morale  Egyptienne,  etc.,  1892. 
Annales  =  Annales  du  Mus6e  du  Congo  beige. 
Apastamba  =  The  Sacred  Laws  of  the  Aryas,  as  taught  in  the  schools  of 

Apastamba,  etc.     Translated   by  Georg  Biihler.     Books  of  the  East. 

vol.  ii. 
Azara  ==  Azara,  F.  D.  :    Voyage  dans  rAmerique  Meridionale. 

B.A.  =  Reports  of  the  British  Association. 

Bancroft  =  Bancroft,  H.  H.  :   Native  Races  of  the  Pacific  States. 

Batchelor  =  Batchelor,  J. :    The  Ainu  of  Japan. 

Baudhayana  =  The   Sacred   Laws   of   the   Aryas.     Translated   by   Georg 

Biihler.     Part  II.     Vasishtha  and  Baudhayana  :   Sacred  Books  of  the 

East,  vol.  siv. 
Baumann  =  Baumann,  O.  :    Durch  Massailand  zur  Nilquelle. 
Beveridge  =  Beveridge,  P.  :    The  Aborigines  of  Vietoria  and  Riverina. 
Blackstone  =  Blackstone  :  Commentaries  on  the  Laws  of  England,  1765-9. 
Boaz  =  Boaz,  Dr.  F.  :    On  the  Indians  of  British  Columbia.      Reports  of 

the  British  Association,  1888,  1889,  1890,  1891. 
Bodenstedt  =  Bodenstedt,  F.  M.  :    Die  VSlker  des  Kaukasus. 
Breasted  =  Breasted,  J.  H.  :    Ancient  Records  of  Egypt. 
Brough  Smyth  =  Brough  Smyth  :    The  Aborigines  of  Victoria. 
Bruns  =  Bruns,  C.  G.  :    Pontes  Juris  Romani  Antiqui  (4th  ed.). 
Bryce  =  Bryce,  Lord  :   Studies  in  History  and  Jurisprudence,  1901. 
Budge  =  Budge,  E.  A.  W.  :   Book  of  the  Dead,  1901. 
Burgdt  =  Burgdt,  J.  R.  M.  van  der  :    Dictionaire  fran§aise-Kirundi. 
Busolt  =  Busolt,  G.  :    Die  Griechischen   Staats-u.     Rechtsaltertiimer,   in 

I.  E.  P.  von  Miiller's  Handbuch   der   Klassischen   Altertmnswissen- 

schaft,  Bd.  IV,  1891. 

Calvin  =  Calvin,   J.  :    Institutes   of  the   Christian   Religion.     Translated 

by  J.  Allen,  1838. 
Cambridge   Expedition  =  Cambridge   Expedition   to   the   Torres   Straits, 

1904. 
Catlin  =  Catlin,  G.  :    Letters  and  Notes  on  the    Manners,  Customs  and 

Conditions  of  the  North  American  Indians,  1841. 
Chamberlain  =  Chamberlain,  A.  E.  :   Report  on  the  Kootenay  Indians  of 

S.-E.  British  Columbia.     Reports  of  the  British  Association,  1892. 
Codrington  =  Codrington,  R.  H.  :    The  Melanesians. 
Corpus  Juris  =  Ed.  Richter,  1879-81.     Note.     References  to  the  Council 

of  Trent  are  taken  from  the  earlier  edition,  1839. 
Coudreau  =  Coudreau,  H.  :    Chez  nos  Indiens. 
Crooke  =  Crooke,  W.  :   The  North- Western  Provinces. 
Curr  =  Curr,  E.  M.  :    The  Australian  Race. 

Dalton  =  Dalton,  E.  :    Descriptive  Ethnology  of  Bengal,  IS72. 
Dareste  =  Dareste,  R.  :   Etudes  d'histoire  du  droit,  1889. 


sii  LIST  OF  ABBREVIATIONS 

Dawson  =  Dawson,  J.  :    Australian  Aborigines. 

De  Groot  =  De  Groot,  J.  H,  H.  :    The  Religious  Systems  of  China,  etc., 

1892. 
Dhammapada  =  Translated   from    the  Pali  by  F.  Max  Muller.     Sacred 

Books  of  the  East,  vol.  x. 
Dorsey  =  Dorsey,  J.  A.  :    Omaha  Sociology.     Reports  of  the  Bureau  of 

Ethnology  of  the  Smithsonian  Institution,  1881-2. 

A  Study  of  Siouan  Cults.     R.  B.  E.,  xi. 

Douglas  =  Douglas,  Sir  R.  K.  :   Society  in  China,  1894. 

Driver  =  Driver,  S.  R.  :  A  Critical  and  Exegetical  Commentary  on  Deuter- 
onomy, 1895. 

An  Introduction  to  the  Literature  of  the  Old  Testament,  1897. 

Duncker  =  Duncker,    M.  :     The    History    of    Antiquity.     Translated    by 

M.  E.  Abbott,  1877-83. 

Ehrenreich  =  Ehrenreich,    P.  :      Beitrage    ziu"    Volkerkunde    Brasiliens. 

Konig.  Museum  fiir  Volkerkunde,  Bd.  II. 
Ellis  =  Ellis,  A.  B.  :  The  Tshi-speaking  Peoples  of  the  Gold  Coast  of  West 

Africa,  1887. 
— —  The  Yoruba-speaking  Peoples  of  the  Slave  Coast  of  West  Africa, 

1894. 
Erman  =  Erman,   A.  :     Life   in   Ancient   Egypt.     Translated   by   H.   M. 

Tirard,  1894. 
Eschwege  =  Eschwege,  C.  W.  von  :    Brasilien. 
Esmein  =  Esmein,  A.  :    Histoire  de   la  procedure   criminelle  en  France, 

etc.,  1882. 
Eyre  =  Eyre,  E.  J.  :    Journals  of  Expeditions. 

Farnell  =  Farnell,  L.  R.  :   The  Cults  of  the  Greek  States,  1896. 

Fletcher  and  La  Fl^che  =  Fletcher,  Miss,  and  La  Fl^che :  The  Omaha. 

Reports  of  the  Bureau  of  Ethnology  of  the  Smithsonian  Institution, 

xxvii. 
Eraser  =  Eraser,  J.  :   The  Aborigines  of  New  South  Wales. 
Frazer  =  Frazer,   J.   G.  :    The   Golden   Bough,   a  study  in   Comparative 

Religion  (2nd  and  3rd  editions). 
Friedlander  =  Friedlander,   L.  :    Darstellungen  aus   der   Sittengeschichte 

Roms,  etc.,  1888-90. 

Girard  =  Girard,  P.  F.  :    Manuel  E16mentaire  de  Droit  Remain,  1896. 
Goddard  =  Goddard,  P.  E.  :    Life  and  Culture  of  the  Hupa.     University 

of  California  Publications,  vol.  i. 
Grinnell  =  Grinnell,  G.  B.  :    Blackfoot  Lodge  Tales. 

Pawnee  Lodge  Tales. 

Grotius  =  Grotius,  Hugo  de  :   De  Jure  Belli  et  Pacis. 

Haddon  =  Haddon,    A.  C.  :    Reports  of   the  Cambridge  Anthropological 

Expedition  to  Torres  Straits. 
Hagen  =  Hagen,  B.  :   Die  Orang  Kubu  auf  Sumatra. 
Hall  =  Hall,  W.  E.  :    A  Treatise  on  International  Law,  1904. 
Hammurabi.     See  Johns. 
Harnack  =  Harnack,  A.  :   Outlines  of  the  History  of  Dogma.     Translated 

from  the  third  German  edition  by  J.  Millar,  1894-9. 

Lehrbuch  der  Dogmengeschichte,   1894. 

Harrison  =  Harrison,  J.  E. :  Prolegomena  to  the  studj  of  Greek  Religion, 

1903. 
Hill-Tout  =  Hill-Tout,  Ch.  :    British  North  America. 
Hollis  :=  Hollis,  A.  :   The  Masai.     Idem.     Th6  Nandi. 
Hose  and  McDougall  =  Hose,  Ch.,  and  McDougali,  W.  :  The  Pagan  Tribes 

of  Borneo. 


LIST  OF  ABBREVIATIONS  xiii 

lloward  =  Howard,  G.  E.  :    History  of  Matrimonial  Listitutions,   1904. 
Howitt  =  Howitt,  A.  W.  :  The  Native  Tribes  of  S.-E.  Australia,  1904. 
Hunter  =  Hunter,    W.    W.  :     The    Indian    Empire.     Triibner's    Oriental 

Series,  1878,  etc. 
Huth  =  Huth,  A.  H.  :    The  Marriage  of  Near  Kin,  etc.,  1887. 

I.  A.  E.  =  Internationales   Arehiv  fur   Ethnographie. 

Ihering  =  Ihering,  R.  von  :  Evolution  of  the  Aryan.  Translated  from 
the  German  by  A.  Drucker,  1897. 

Gteist  des  romischen  Rechts,  auf  deo  verschiedenem  Stufen  seiner 

Entwickelung,  1891. 

im  Thurn  =  im  Thurn,  E.  F.  :    Among  the  Indians  of  Guiana. 
Ingram  =  Ingram,  J.  K.  :    A  History  of  Slavery  and  Serfdom,  1895. 

J.  A.  I.  =  Journal  of  the  Anthropological  Institute. 

Jastrow  =  Jastrow,  Morris:  The  Religion  of  Babylonia  and  Assyria,  1895. 
Jenks  =  Jenks,  E.  :    Law  and  Politics  in  the  Middle  Ages,  1898. 
Jevons  =  Jevons,  F.  B.  :  An  Introduction  to  the  History  of  Religion,  1902. 
Johns  =  Johns,  C.  H.  W.  :   The  Oldest  Code  of  Laws  in  the  World  (Ham- 
murabi). 
Johnston  =  Johnston,  Sir  H.  H.  :    George  Grenfel  and  the  Congo. 

Uganda  Protectorate. 

J.  R.  A.  S.  =  Journal  of  the  Royal  Asiatic  Society. 

K.  and  K.  =  Fison  and  Howitt,  A.  W.  :   Kamilaroi  and  Kurnai. 
Kohler  u.  Peiser  =  Kohler  und  Peiser :  Aus  dem  Babylonischen  Reehts- 
leben. 

Hammurabi's  Gesetz,  1904. 

Koran  =  Koran,  Parts  I  and  II.     Translated  by  E.  H.  Palmer.     Sacred 

Books  of  the  East,  vols,  vi  and  ix. 
Kuenen  =  Kuenen,  A.  :    The  Religion  of  Israel  to  the  fall  of  the  Jewish 

State.     Translated  from  the  Dutch  by  A.  H.  May,   1873. 

La  Cour  and  Appel  =  La  Cour,  P.,  and  Appel,  J. :  Die  Physik  auf  Grund 
ihrer  geschichtlichen  Entwickelung,  etc.     Ubersetzung  von  G.  Siebert. 

Laffitte  =  Laffitte,  P. :  A  General  View  of  Chinese  Civilization,  etc.  Trans- 
lated by  J.  C.  Hall,  1887. 

Lang,  G.  S.  =  Lang,  G.  S.  :  The  Aborigines  of  Australia. 

Lang,  J.  D.  =  Lang,  J.  D.  :    Queensland,  Australia. 

Lecky  =  Leckj-,  W.  E.  H.  :  History  of  European  Morals  from  Augustus 
to  Charlemagne,  1877. 

Legge  =  Legge,  J.  :  The  Chinese  Classics,  1861-72.  Vol.  i,  Confucian 
Analects,  etc. ;  vol.  ii.  Works  of  Mencius ;  vol.  iii.  The  Shoo-King 
(two  parts);  vol.  iv.  The  She-King  (two  parts). 

Leist  =  Leist,  B.  W.  :    Grasco-italische  Rechtsgeschichte,  1884. 

Letourneau  =  Letoumeau,  C.  :  La  Condition  de  la  Femme  dans  les 
diverses  races  et  civilisations,  1903.     (La  Femme.) 

La  Guerre  dans  les  diverses  races  humaines,  1895.     (La  Guerre.) 

L'evolution  de  I'Esclavage  dans  les  diverses  races  hvunaines,   1885. 

(L'Eaclavage.) 

Ling  Roth  =  Ling  Roth,  H.  :    Natives  of  Sarawak. 

Loskiel  =  Loskiel,  G.  H.  :    Geschichte  der  Mission  unter  den  Indianern. 
Luther  =  Luther,  Martin  :  Luther's  Primary  Works,  edited  by  Wace  and 
Buchheim,  1896. 

Magyar  —  Magyar,  L.  :    Reisen  in  Siidafrika. 

Manu  =  Manu,  Laws  of.  Translated  by  Georg  Biihler.  Sacred  Books 
of  the  East,  vol.  xxv. 


xiv  LIST   OF  ABBREVIATIONS 

Martin  =  Martin,  R.  :    Die  Inlandstamme  der  Malayinchen  Halbinsel. 
Martius  =  Von  Martius  :    Beitrage  zur  Ethnographie  Amerikas. 
Maspero  =  Maspero,  G.  :    The  Dawn  of  Civilization  :    Egypt  and  Chaldea. 
Edited  by  A.  H.  Sayce.     Translated  by  M.  L.  McClure,  1901. 

Recueil  de  Travaux,  relatifs  a  la  philologie  et  a  I'archeologie  Egyp- 

tienne  et  Assyrienne.     Publie  sous  la  direction  de  G.  Maspero,  1870, 
(Recueil.) 

Meissner  =  Meissner,  B. :  Beitrage  zum  Altbabylonischen  Privatrecht,  1893. 

De  Servitute  Babylonico — Assyriaca,    1882. 

Metz  :=  Metz,  J.  F.  :   The  tribes  inhabiting  the  Nilgherrj'  Hills. 
Mommsen  =  Mommsen  :   Zum  altesten  Strafrecht  der  Kulturvolker,  1905. 
Montefiore  =  Montefiore,  C.  G.  :    Lectures  on  the  Origin  and  Growth  of 

Religion,   as  illustrated   by   the   Religion   of   the   Ancient   Hebrews. 

Hibbert  Lectures,  1892. 
Mooney  =  Mooney,  J.  :  The  Kiowa.     Reports  of  the  Bureau  of  Ethnology 

of  the  Smithsonian  Institution,  xvii. 
Morgan  =  Morgan,    L.    H.  :     Houses    and    Houselife    of    the    American 

Aborigines,  1877. 

The  League  of  the  Ho-de-no-sau-nee,  or  Iroquois,  1851.     (Iroquois.) 

Miiller  =  Miiller,    F.    W.    K.  :     Batak-Sammlung.    Verof.    aus    dem     K. 

Musevun  fur  Volkerkunde,  Bd.  III. 
Muller  =  Miiller,  W.  Max  :    Die  Liebespoesie  der  Alten  Aegypter,  1897. 
Muir  =  Muir,  J.  :    Original  Sanscrit  Texts  on  the  Origin  and  History  of 

the  People  of  India,  1868-84.     5  vols. 
Munzinger  =  Munzinger,  W.  :    Ostafrikanische  Studien. 
Murdoch  =  Murdoch,    J.  :     Point    Barrow    Expedition.     Reports    of    the 

Bureau  of  Ethnology  of  the  Smithsonian  Institution,   1887. 

Nieboer,  Dr.  =  Nieboer,  H.  J.  :    Slavery  as  an  Industrial  System. 

Old  =  Old,  W.  G.  :   The  Book  of  the  Simple  Way  of  Laotze,  1904. 

Oppenheimer  =  Oppenheimer,  H.  :    The  Rationale  of  Punishment. 

Oppert  =  Oppert,  J.  :  La  Condition  des  Esclaves  a  Babylone,  etc.  Ex- 
traits  des  comptes  rendus  de  I'Academie  des  Inscriptions,  1888. 

Orbigny  =  Orbigny,  Dessalines,  A.  D'.  :  Voyage  dans  I'Amerique 
M^ridionale. 

Overbergh  =  Overbergh,  Cyr.  von  :  Collection  de  monographies  ethno- 
graphiques. 

Parker,  Mrs.  =  Parker,  Mrs.  K.  L.  :   The  Euahlayi  Tribe. 
Paulitschke  =  Paulitschke,  Ph.  :    Ethnographie  Nord-Ost-Afrikas. 
Petermann,   Dr.  =  Dr.   Petermann's   Mittheilungen   aus   Justus   Perthes' 

Geographischem  Anstalt. 
Petrie,  Flinders  =  Petrie,  W.  M.  Flinders  :    Religion  and  Conscience  in 

Ancient  Egypt,  1898. 
Pike  =  Pike,  L.  O.  :   History  of  Crime  in  England,  1873-6. 
Pollock    and    Maitland  =  Pollock,  Sir    Frederick,  and    Maitland,  F.    VV.  : 

The  History  of  English  Law  before  the  time  of  Edward  I,  1898. 
Post  =  Post,  A.  H.  :   Afrikanische  Jurisprudenz,  1887.     (A.  J.) 

Grundriss  =  Grundriss  der  Ethnologischen  Jurisprudenz,   1894. 

Powell  =  Powell,  J.  W.  :   Wyandot  Government.     Reports  of  the  Bureau 

of  Ethnology  of  the  Smithsonian  Institution,  I. 
Powers  =  Powers,    S.  :     Tribes    of    California.     Contributions    to    N.    A. 
Ethnology,  vol.  iii,  1877. 

Ratzel  =  Ratzel  :     History    of    Mankind.     Translated    from    the   second 

German  edition  by  A.  J.  Butler,  1891. 
R.  B.  E.  =  Reports    of    the    Bureau    of    Ethnology    of    the    Smithaonian 

Institution. 


LIST  OF  ABBREVIATIONS  xv 

Reclus  =  R«clus,  E. :  Primitive  Folk.  Studies  in  Comparative  Ethnology, 
1889. 

Reed  =  Reed,  W.  A.  :  The  Negritos  of  Zambales.  Department  of  the 
Interior.     Ethnological   Publications,   vol.   ii,   part   i. 

Risley  =  Risley:   Tribes  of  Bengal. 

Rocheforte,  de  =  Rocheforte,  de  :    History  of  the  Antilles,   1665. 

Ross  =  Ross,  B.  R.  :  Notes  on  the  Tinnehs  and  Chepewayans.  Reports 
of  the  Board  of  Regents  of  the  Smithsonian  Institution,  1866. 

Roth  =  Roth,  W.  E.  :  Ethnological  Studies  among  the  N.-W.-C.  Queens- 
land Aborigines. 

Saussaye,  de  la  ==  Saussaye,  P.  C.  de  la  :  Manual  of  the  Science  of  Religion. 

Translated  from  the  German  by  B.  S.  Colyer-Ferguson. 
Sayce  =  Sayce,  A.  H. :  Records  of  the  Past,  etc.,  1873.     New  Series,  1890. 
Schoolcraft  =  Historical  and  Statistical  Information  respecting  the  Indian 

Tribes,  etc.,  1851-60. 
Sohoolcraft-Drake  =  Drake,   F.    S.  :     The   Indian   Tribes    of   the   United 

States.     Based  on  Schoolcraft's  "  Archives  of  Aboriginal  Knowledge." 
Schroder  =  Schroder,  R.  :    Lohrbuch  der  deutschen  Rechtsgeschichte. 
"  Simpler  Peoples  "  =  The  Material  Culture  and  Social  Institutions  of  the 

Simpler  Peoples.     By  L.  T.  Hobhouse,  G.  C.  Wlieeler,  and  M.  Ginsberg. 
Skeat  and  Blagden  =  Skeat,  W.  W.,  and  Blagden,  C.  O.  :    Pagan  Races 

of  the  Malay  Peninsula. 
Spencer  and  Gillen  (I)  =  Native  Tribes  of  Central  Austraha,  1899. 

(II)  =  Northern  Tribes  of  Central  Australia,   1904. 

Stercke  =  Starcke,  C.  N.  :    The  Primitive  Family,  1889. 

Steinen,  von  =  Steinen,  Carl,  von  den  :    Unter  den  Naturvolkern  Zentral- 

Brasiliens. 
Steinmetz  =  Steinmetz,    S.    R.  :     Rochtsverhaltnisse    von    eingeborenen 

Volkern  in  Afrika  und  Ozeanien. 
Stenin,  von  =  Stenin,  P.  von  :    Die  Kurden  des  Gouvernments  Eriwan. 

Globus,  LXX,  1896. 
Stephen  =  Stephen,  Sir  J.  F.,  :  A  History  of  the  Criminal  Law  of  England, 

1883. 
Swanton  =  Swanton,  J.  R. :  The  Thlinkeet.     Reports  of  the  Bureau  of 

Ethnology  of  the  Smithsonian  Institution,  xxvi. 

Teit  =  Teit,  J.  :  The  Lillooet  Indians.  Edited  by  F.  Boaz.  Publications 
of  the  Jesup  North  Pacific  Expedition,  vol.  ii,  part  5,  1900. 

The  Thompson  Indians  of  British  Columbia.     Edited  by  F.  Boaz. 

Publications  of  the  Jesup  Expedition,  vol.  i. 

Thomson  =  Thomson,  J.  :    To  the  Central  African  Lakes  and  Back. 
Thouar  =  Thouar,  A.  :    Explorations  dans  I'Amerique  du  Sud. 
Thui-ston  =  Thurston,  E.  :    Castes  and  Tribes  of  Southern  India. 
Tschudi  von  =  Tschudi,  J.  J.  von  :    Reisen  durch  Siidamerika. 
Tylor  =  Tylor,  E.  B.  :   Primitive  Culture,  1903. 

VioUet  =  Viollet,  P.  :    Histoire  du  droit  civil  frangais,  1893. 

Waitz,  G.  =  Waitz,  G.  :    Deutsche  Verfassungsgeschichte,  1880. 
Waitz,  T.  =  Waitz,  T. :  Anthropologie  der  Naturvolker,    1859-72. 
Westermarck  =  Westermarek,  E.  :    History  of  Human  Marriage,    1901. 

Origin  and  Growth  of  the  Moral  Ideas,  1906. 

Wilamowitz  =  Wilamowitz-Mollendorf,  U.  von  :    Staat  und  Gesellschaft 

der  Griechen  und  R5mer. 
Wines  =  Wines,  F.  H.  :    Punishment  and  Reformation,  etc.,    1895. 
Wissowa  =  Wissowa  :   Religion  und  Kultus  der  Romer,  1902.     In  I.  E.  P. 

von  Miiller's  llandbuch  der  Klassischen  Altertumswissenschaft,  Bd.  5. 
Woods  =  Woods,  J.  B.  :    Native  Tribes  oi  S.  Australia. 


xvi  LIST  OF  ABBREVIATIONS 

Z.  f.  V.  R.  =  Zeitschrift  fiir  Vergleichende  Rechtswissenschaft. 

Zend  Avesta  =  Zend  Avesta,  Part  I,  The  Vaudidad,  translated  by  James 
Darmesteter.  Part  II,  The  Sirozahs,  etc.,  translated  by  James 
Darmesteter.  Part  III,  The  Yasna,  etc.,  translated  by  L.  H.  Mills. 
Sacred  Books  of  the  East,  vols,  iv,  xxiii,  xxxi. 

Z.  E.  =  Zeitschrift  fiir  Ethnologie. 

Zimmern,  A.  E.  =  The  Greek  Commonwealth. 

Zimmern,  H.  =  Beitrage  zur  Kenntniss  der  babylonischen  Religion  :  Die 
Beschworungstafeln  Surpu.  Ritualtafeln  fiir  den  Wahrsager,  Ecsch- 
worer  und  Sanger  :    Dalitzsch  u.  Haupt  Bibliothek,  1896. 

Zu  Wied  =  Wied,  Prinz  M.  zu  :   Reise  in  BrasjJieu. 


MORALS    IN    EVOLUTION 


PART   I 

THE    STANDARD 
CHAPTER   I 

GENERAL   CHARACTERISTICS    OF   ETHICAL   EVOLUTION 

1.  The  object  of  the  present  work  is  to  trace  the  evolution  of 
the  ethical  consciousness  as  displayed  in  the  habits  and  customs, 
rules  and  principles,  which  have  arisen  in  the  course  of  human 
history  for  the  regulation  of  human  conduct.  In  no  part  of  the 
world,  and  at  no  period  of  time,  do  we  find  the  behaviour  of 
men  left  to  unchartered  freedom.  Everywhere  human  life  is  in 
a  measure  organized  and  directed  by  customs,  laws,  beliefs,  ideals, 
which  shape  its  end  and  guide  its  activities.  As  this  guidance 
of  life  by  rule  is  universal  in  human  society,  so  upon  the  whole 
it  is  peculiar  to  humanity.  There  is  no  reason  to  think  that  any 
animal  except  man  can  enunciate  or  apply  general  rules  of  con- 
duct. Nevertheless  there  is  not  wanting  something  that  we  can 
call  an  organization  of  life  in  the  animal  world.  How  much  of 
intelligence  underlies  the  social  life  of  the  higher  animals  is 
indeed  extremely  hard  to  determine.  In  the  aid  which  they  often 
render  to  one  another,  in  their  combined  hunting,  in  their  play, 
in  the  use  of  warning  cries,  and  the  employment  of  "  sentinels," 
which  is  so  frequent  among  birds  and  mammals,  it  would  appear 
at  first  sight,  that  a  considerable  measure  of  mutual  understand- 
ing is  implied,  that  we  find  at  least  an  analogue  to  human  custom, 
to  the  assignment  of  functions,  the  division  of  labour,  which 
mutual  reliance  renders  possible.  How  far  the  analogy  may  be 
pressed,  and  whether  terms  like  "  custom  "  and  "  mutual  under- 
standing," drawn  from  human  experience,  are  rightly  applicable 
to  animal  societies,  are  questions  on  which  we  shall  touch  pre- 
sently. Let  us  observe  first,  that  as  we  descend  the  animal  scale 
the  sphere  of  intelligent  activity  is  gradually  narrowed  down. 


2  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

and  yet  behaviour  is  still  regulated.  The  lowest  organisms  have 
their  definite  methods  of  action  vmder  given  conditions.  The 
Amoeba  shrinks  into  itself  at  a  touch,  withdraws  the  pseudo- 
podium  that  is  roughly  handled,  or  makes  its  way  round  the  small 
object  which  will  serve  it  as  food.  Given  the  conditions,  it  acts 
in  the  way  best  suited  to  avoid  danger,  or  to  secure  nourishment 
We  are  a  long  way  from  the  intelligent  regulation  of  conduct 
by  a  general  principle,  but  we  still  find  action  adapted  to  the 
requirements  of  organic  life. 

2.  Thus  in  the  lowest  grades  of  the  organic  world  behaviour 
is  already  regulated,  and  regulated  to  some  purpose.  It  will 
repay  us  to  consider  very  briefly  the  method  of  this  regulation,  and 
to  observe  how  it  changes  as  we  ascend  the  organic  scale.  In 
the  lowest  grades  of  life,  then,  whether  plant  or  animal,  we  find 
behaviour  pretty  rigidly  determined  bj'^  the  structure  of  the 
organism  itself.  The  sensitive  plant  or  the  protozoon  does  not 
act  at  random,  but  it  is  so  constructed  that  when  stimulated  in 
a  particular  way  by  some  outer  object  it  responds  to  this  stimulus 
by  some  definite  motion.  In  this  way,  for  example,  the  tentacles 
of  the  Venus'  Flytrap  close  over  the  luckless  insect  which  has 
settled  upon  its  leaf,  a  touch  on  any  one  of  the  spines  of  the  leaf 
causing  the  two  halves  of  the  leaf-end  to  fold  inward  as  on  a 
hinge.  The  insect  is  thus  enclosed,  and  certain  glands  upon  the 
leaf  secrete  the  digestive  juice  to  aid  in  its  assimilation. ^  In  the 
same  apparently  mechanical  manner  the  tentacles  of  a  sea- 
anemone  close  over  a  small  object  which  lodges  among  them. 
Actions  of  this  kind,  which  may  generally  be  called  reflexes,  for 
the  most  part  serve  a  function  which  we  can  readily  discover  and 
assign  in  the  life  of  the  organism ;  for  example,  in  the  instances 
mentioned  they  secure  its  food.  But  though  they  serve  this 
purpose  it  is  almost  certain  that  we  should  be  mistaken  in  re- 
garding them  as  purposeful  or  intelligent  in  character.  Reflexes 
of  this  type  proceed  with  equal  certainty  and  regularity,  whether 
in  the  particular  case  they  happen  to  be  good  or  bad  for  the 
organism.  We  can  most  easily  understand  their  character  by 
considering  any  one  of  the  numerous  reflex  actions  which  we  our- 
selves perform.  If  a  small  foreign  object — a  speck  of  dust  or  a 
crumb  of  food — gets  into  our  windpipe,  we  cough ;  that  is  to  say, 
a  series  of  muscular  contractions  is  set  up  whereby  the  foreign 

^  Lloyd  Morgan,  Animal  Intelligence,  p.  26.  Observe  that  innutritions 
objects,  such  as  particles  of  sand,  do  not  cause  a  regular  contraction  of  the 
tentacles,  though  their  impact  is  followed  by  a  secretion.  In  other  words, 
the  re-action  only  follows  in  its  completeness  in  cases  where  it  serves  o 
purpose. 


ETHICAL   EVOLUTION  3 

body  is  exjDelled.  This  serves  a  puri^ose  which  is  very  nsefiil 
to  us,  but  it  is  not  done  by  the  aid  of  our  intelligence.  It  is 
done  by  our  nerves  and  muscles  upon  their  own  account  without 
the  aid  of  our  will,  and  even,  as  we  know,  sometimes  against  our 
will.  Similarly,  if  an  object  comes  straight  at  our  eyes,  we 
blink,  and  we  do  so  even  though  we  know  we  are  not  going  to 
be  hit.  The  blink  normally  serves  the  purpose  of  protecting 
the  eyes,  but  the  number  of  people  who  can  refrain  from  bhnk- 
ing  when  it  is  known  to  be  useless  is  comparatively  small.  We 
blink  on  any  given  occasion,  not  because  as  intelligent  persons 
we  Vv^ish  to  protect  our  eyes,  but  because  a  certain  structure  of 
nerves  and  muscles  exists  in  us,  which,  being  touched  as  it  were 
by  the  stimidus  of  something  coming  straight  at  the  eyes,  is 
brought  into  operation  automatically.  This  structure  is  ordi- 
narily useful  to  us.  Similarly,  it  was  useful  to  our  ancestors, 
and  the  biological  theory  is  that  it  has  grown  up  and  been 
perpetuated  in  us  because  from  generation  to  generation  it  has 
on  the  balance  been  found  useful.  Those  in  whom  it  failed  would 
be  likely  to  lose  their  sight,  and  wdth  their  sight  they  might  well 
lose  their  lives,  and  losing  their  lives  they  would  fail  to  leave 
descendants,  and  so  their  stock  would  become  blotted  out.  Con- 
versely, the  same  conditions  would  favour  the  perpetuation  and 
increase  of  a  stock  in  which  the  structure  was  well  developed. 
This  explanation  may  be  applied  to  all  the  simplest  methods 
of  adjusting  responses  to  stimulus.  In  every  generation  those 
individuals  who  best  responded  to  the  circumstances  in  which 
they  were  placed  from  time  to  time  would  tend  to  survive  in  the 
largest  numbers.  The  physical  structure  best  suited  to  give  these 
responses  jwould  thus  be  perpetuated,  and  while  the  variations 
for  the  worse  would  be  eliminated  the  variations  for  the  better 
would  be  preserved.  In  this  way,  according  to  the  biological 
theory,  physical  structures  arise  which  fixedly  determine  the 
most  suitable  kind  of  response  to  the  kind  of  stimuli  which 
most  frequently  affect  organisms  of  any  given  species.  Thus, 
without  the  exercise  of  any  intelligence  on  the  part  of  any  in- 
dividual organism,  without  the  formation  of  the  idea  of  a  purpose 
at  any  single  point  in  the  whole  history,  certain  fundamental 
purposes  are,  nevertheless,  served,  and  the  conditions  which 
secure  that  they  should  be  served  are  perpetuated.  Here,  then, 
we  have  a  form  of  the  regulation  of  behaviour  proceeding  without 
the  intervention  of  any  intelligent  agency.^ 

^  i.  e.  in  the  evolving  organisms  themselves.  Whether  the  wholo 
"  plan  "  of  evolution  implies  a  "  planning  "  Mind  is  a  deeper  questioG 
which  I  do  not  raise  here.     I  touch  on  it  below ;   Part  II.  chap.  viii. 


4  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

3.  As  judged  from  the  point  of  view  of  its  efficiency  in  pre- 
serving the  race,  this  method  of  regulating  conduct  has  many 
defects.  It  is  excessively  rigid  and  excessively  narrow.  If  a 
given  contraction  must  follow  a  given  touch,  the  results  may 
upon  the  v/hole  be  good,  but  they  may  also  in  many  instances 
be  bad.  Poisonous  substances  may  be  swallowed  instead  of 
nutritious  food;  dangerous  enemies  may  be  approached  as 
though  they  were  prey.  Observation  of  j^oung  animals  reveals 
many  instances  of  this  want  of  adaptation,  and  many  of  the 
actions,  which  at  first  sight  so  wonderfully  dovetail  into  one 
another  as  to  suggest  a  marvellous  foresight  of  what  the  animal 
will  require,  turn  out  on  further  investigation  to  be  bhnd  re- 
sponses to  a  physical  stimulus  which,  very  often  lead  to  fatal 
results.  One  instance  may  suffice  here  : — The  larva  of  the 
Sitaris  beetle  provides  for  its  future  career  by  attaching  itself 
to  a  bee  which  finds  it  in  all  necessaries.  But  it  is  not  any 
knowledge  of  the  bee  and  what  the  bee  will  do  for  it  which 
impels  the  larva,  for  it  will  similarly  attach  itself  to  any  hairy 
object  which  may  come  near- — for  example,  to  any  other  hairy 
insect;  and  probably  a  large  number  perish  in  this  manner.^ 
The  larva  is  so  constructed,  in  fact,  that  contact  with,  or  proximity 
to,  a  hairy  insect  sets  up  the  motions  requisite  for  attaching  the 
larva  to  that  insect.  In  a  sufficiently  large  proportion  of  cases 
the  insect  thus  clung  to  is  a  bee,  and  by  this  means  this  particular 
structure  enables  the  Sitaris  beetle  to  perpetuate  itself.  But  it 
can  easily  be  seen  that  action  will  be  far  more  efficiently  regulated 
if  the  inherited  structure  can  make  some  allowance  for  the 
difference  of  circumstances,  if  some  plasticity,  some  capacity  for 
modification  should  arise,  and  this,  in  point  of  fact,  we  find  when 
we  pass  from  the  mechanical  reflexes  which  we  have  hitherto 
considered  to  the  instincts  of  higher  animals. 

Instinct  is  a  relatively  permanent  condition  of  an  animal, 
which  will  set  it  upon  a  train  of  actions,  and  in  carrying  out 
these  actions,  considerable  variations  may  be  possible  according 
to  the  particular  circumstances  in  which  the  animal  finds  itself 
placed.  Thus  in  the  springtime  it  is  the  instinct  of  birds  to 
pair,  to  build  nests,  to  tend  their  eggs  and  feed  their  young. 
There  is  no  doubt  at  aU  on  a  survey  of  the  whole  evidence  that 
the  impulse  to  build  nests  and,  broadly  speaking,  the  method 
of  building  them  are  hereditary.  But  though  hereditary,  they 
are  also  modifiable.  The  method  of  nest-building  is  varied,  the 
materials  used  are  varied.  The  old  bird  builds  his  nest  better 
than  the  young  one,  showing  that  even  here  practice  makes 
*  Cambridge  NafuraJ  History ,  vu  272. 


ETHICAL  EVOLUTION  6 

perfect.  The  oriole,  which  usually  conceals  its  nests  from  snakes 
and  hawks,  builds  quite  openly  in  villages  where  these  enemies 
are  not  to  be  feared.^  The  orchard  oriole  builds  a  shallow  nest 
on  stifi  branches,  but  on  the  slender  twigs  of  the  weeping  willow 
builds  deep,  so  that  the  young  are  not  thrown  out  by  the  swaying 
of  the  nest.  Even  in  the  feeding  of  the  young,  cases  are  recorded 
in  which  apparently  inteUigent  adaptation  of  the  ordinary  practice 
through  some  special  circumstances  proves  to  be  well  within  the 
power  of  the  bird. 

As  opposed  to  reflex  actions,  and  as  opposed  to  the  popular 
idea  of  instinct,  the  facts  show  that,  particularly  as  we  ascend 
the  animal  scale,  instincts  are  not  perfect  at  birth,  but  are 
improved  by  practice.  They  are  not  rigid,  but  are  capable  of 
adaptation  to  varying  circumstances;  they  are  not,  as  it  were, 
plamied  out  by  the  inherited  nature  of  the  individual  in  all 
their  detail.  Yet  nevertheless  they  rest  upon  a  hereditary 
basis  which  has  gro"\vn  up  under  those  same  conditions  which 
we  have  already  seen  laying  down  and  fixing  the  structure 
which  determines  reflex  action.  It  is  important  here  to  observe 
closely  what  these  conditions  are.  We  must  bear  in  mmd  that 
it  is  not  the  survival  of  the  individual  which,  upon  the  principles 
laid  down  by  the  biologists,  will  determine  the  growth  of  that 
structure  upon  which  reflex  action  and  instinct  ahke  depend. 
If  we  personify  Natural  Selection,  we  may  say  that  what  it  has 
in  view  is  not  the  individual  but  the  stock,  or  if  we  avoid  personi- 
fication and  thereby  lengthen  our  statement,  we  must  say  that 
the  conditions  which  determine  the  growth  and  perpetuation 
of  a  given  structure  are  not  that  that  structure  should  preserve 
the  Hfe  of  each  individual  in  which  it  exists,  but  that  it  should 
tend  to  preserve  the  breed  of  that  individual.  In  the  main  these 
two  objects  fall  into  one,  since  it  is  only  by  having  its  own  hfe 
preserved  for  a  certain  time  that  an  individual  can  bring  young 
ones  into  existence ;  but  where  they  diverge,  the  young  should, 
according  to  the  logic  of  the  argument,  get  the  preference  from 
natural  selection,  and  so,  in  point  of  fact,  the  act  of  procreation 
is  in  some  instances  fatal,  and  throughout  the  animal  world  the 
actions  necessary  for  reproduction  are  as  important  and  as  closely 
determined  by  the  structure  of  the  individual  as  the  actions  neces- 
sary for  the  maintenance  of  its  ovni  life.  But  on  this  point  a 
very  important  difference  emerges  as  we  ascend  the  animal  scale. 
In  the  lower  layers  of  organic  creation,  the  maintenance  of  the 
stock  is  principally  secured  by  the  vast  numbers,  running  up  even 
to  millioiis,  of  individuals  which  may  spring  from  a  single  indi- 
*  A.  R.  Wallace,  Natural  Selection,  p.  Hi,  etc. 


y 


6  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

vidual  in  the  course  of  one  season.  In  the  higher  ra^nks  of  animal 
Ufe  the  birth-rate  rapidly  diminishes.  Each  individual  produces 
a  few,  or,  in  the  end,  a  single  young  one  annually,  or  perhaps 
even  less  frequently,  and  makes  up  for  its  infertility  by  the  care 
which  it  devotes  to  the  rearing  of  its  more  limited  family.  There 
is  every  reason  to  regard  this  parental  affection,  which  begins 
in  such  elementary  methods  as  the  attachment  of  eggs  to  a 
suitable  object  and  proceeds  from  the  very  rough  nest-building 
found  among  a  few  species  of  fish  and  among  the  lower  birds  to 
the  high  degree  of  parental  affection  shown  by  the  most  intelligent 
birds  and  mammals,  as  instinctive  in  character  and  based  upon 
hereditary  impulses.  The  cat  tends  its  young  by  instinct  just 
as  truly  as  it  hunts  mice  by  instinct,  and,  broadly  speaking,  the 
conditions  under  which  each  instinct  has  arisen  are  the  same. 
Each  fulfils  the  requirements  of  race  maintenance  and  enables  the 
animal  to  leave  behind  it  progeny  like  itself. 

Precisely  the  same  account  may  be  given  of  the  gregarious 
tendencies  which  become  more  developed  and  more  useful  to 
the  species  as  we  ascend  the  animal  scale.  Not  only  the  social 
insects  whose  case  presents  peculiar  difficulties,  but  many  of  the 
higher  birds  and  mammals  live  in  societies  which  are  much  larger 
than  the  natural  family,  and  these  societies  are  in  a  rudimentary 
way  organized,  that  is  to  say,  the  members  help  one  another. 
They  play  together,  sometimes  they  hunt  together;  in  a  large 
number  of  interesting  cases  they  employ  sentinels  who  warn 
them  of  danger  by  an  alarm  note.  "  Ibex,  marmots  and  moun- 
tain sheep  whistle,  prairie  dogs  bark,  elephants  trumpet,  wild 
geese  and  swans  have  a  kind  of  bugle-call,  rabbits  stamp  on  the 
ground,  sheep  do  the  same,  and  wild  ducks,  as  the  writer  has 
noticed,  utter  a  very  low  caution  quack  to  signify  the  enemy  in 
sight."  ^  Here  again  there  is  no  reason  to  doubt  that  the  basis 
of  behaviour  is  instinctive,  but  the  instinct  is  modified  as  life 
proceed«s.  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  young  animals  have  no  special 
instinct  which  bids  them  follow  their  own  mothers.  They  will 
follow  any  large  animal  moving  as  their  mothers  do.  They  do  not 
even  know  by  instinct  how  to  suck.  A  young  lamb,  for  instance, 
will  take  whatever  comes  nearest  into  its  mouth,  say,  a  tuft  of 
wool  on  its  dam's  neck,  and  it  is  only  by  degrees,  guided  perhaps 
by  smell,  that  it  acquires  the  right  method  of  feeding  itself. ^ 

4.  Thus,  though  the  basis  of  the  family  and  socia.1  life  of  the 
higher  animals  is  laid  in  certain  tendencies  or  characteristics 

^  Cornish,  Animuls  at  Work  and  Play,  p.  48. 

*  Lloj'd  Morgan,  Habit  and  Instinct,  pp.  Ill,  116. 


ETHICAL  EVOLUTIOK  ? 

inherited  from  their  forbears,  these  tendencies  do  not  set  down 
rigid  lines  of  behaviour  which  are  perfect  from  the  outset,  but 
rather  supply  a  kind  of  basis  upon  which  the  experieaice  of  the 
individual  itself  may  operate.  This  brings  us  accordingly  to  a 
new  factor  in  the  regulation  of  behaviour.  When  a  young  chick 
has  emerged  from  the  egg  it  will  peck  readily,  and  on  the  whole 
with  surprising  accuracy,  at  any  small  object  lying  on  the  ground 
that  catches  its  eye.  Some  of  the  things  that  it  pecks  at  it  will 
swallow — yolk  of  egg,  for  example,  gratifies  its  cannibal  tastes, 
and  having  once  swallowed  a  bit  of  yolk  it  will  peck  at  another 
with  increased  avidity.  This  pecking  we  may  regard  as  a  reflex 
and  ascribe  to  an  inherited  mechanism  which  is  set  going  by  the 
stimulus  administered  to  the  eye  by  the  sight  of  the  object. 
But  if  instead  of  yolk  of  egg  the  chick  happens  to  peck  at  a 
piece  of  orange-peel,  or  at  a  certain  caterpillar  which  has  appar- 
ently an  unpleasant  taste,  it  will  check  itself  in  mid-career, 
or,  if  too  late  to  do  so,  will  swallow  the  object  with  gestures 
which  we  take  as  signs  of  disgust,  and  we  have  some  ground  for 
this  interpretation  because  after  a  very  few  experiences — some- 
times indeed  a  single  instance — the  chick  learns  to  avoid  objects 
of  that  kind ;  it  continues  to  peck  at  the  yolk,  but  rejects  the 
caterpillar.  Here,  then,  a  new  factor  has  intervened.  The  chick 
started  with  its  hereditary  mechanism  wound  up,  as  it  were,  for 
the  purpose  of  pecking  at  any  small  object  that  it  came  across, 
but  its  own  experience  has  an  effect  upon  this  mechanism.  It 
stops  its  working  in  relation  to  certain  objects  while  it  permits 
or  even  encovirages  and  perfects  it  in  relation  to  others.  On  the 
strength  of  our  human  experience  we  attribute  to  the  chick 
pleasurable  and  painful  feelings.  We  assume  that  the  taste  of 
the  one  object  was  pleasant  and  that  of  the  other  disgusting. 
Whether  we  have  a  right  to  draw  this  inference  is  a  question 
which  need  not  be  argued  here.  Our  main  point  for  the  present 
is  that  experience  modifies  an  inherited  mode  of  reaction,  and  it 
will  be  convenient  to  call  this  experience  pleasurable  or  painful 
according  as  it  tends  to  encourage  and  perfect  the  reaction,  or  to 
discourage  and  finally  put  a  stop  to  it.  Clearly,  the  power  of 
thus  learning  by  experience  will  be  of  immense  advantage  to  a 
species  in  the  way  of  making  its  behaviour  more  plastic  and 
adapting  it  more  closely  to  the  requirements  of  its  life.  But  the 
utility  of  this  new  mode  of  regulating  conduct  will  depend  upon 
one  condition — the  feelings  of  the  animal  must  in  the  main 
correspond  with  the  actual  requirements  of  its  life.  If  all  the 
distasteful  food  were  nutritious  and  all  the  pleasant  food  poison, 
the  only  result  of  the  operation  of  experience  would  be  to  bring 


8  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

the  chick  to  a  premature  grave.  But  the  feeling  which  the 
chick  experiences  is  as  much  determined  by  the  inherited  structure 
of  its  brain  and  nerve  organism  as  was  the  original  tendency  to 
peck.  This  inherited  structure  has  grown  up  under  precisely 
similar  conditions,  that  is  to  say,  it  must  upon  the  balance  have 
assisted  the  ancestors  of  the  chick  in  maintaining  their  stock  and 
not  tended  to  their  destruction.  What  has  happened,  therefore, 
is  that,  in  addition  to  a  mere  tendency  to  peck,  the  chick  also 
inherits  the  structure  which  enables  it  to  feel,  and  to  feel  in  the 
main  in  a  way  that  accords  with  the  requirements  of  its  life. 
The  feelings  of  the  individual,  then,  become  the  means  by  which 
within  certain  limits  the  behaviour  of  that  individual  is  regulated, 
and  thus  far  greater  plasticity  is  gained  for  the  behaviour  itself. 
The  animal  which  can  thus  learn  by  experience  can  afford  to 
make  its  mistakes,  and  the  more  so  as  it  has  the  fostering  care  of 
a  mother  to  protect  it  from  those  mistakes  which  would  be  fatal. 

Thus  the  range  of  adaptation  has  increased.  In  place  of  the 
direct  response  coming  mechanically,  whether  well  or  ill  suited 
to  circumstances,  in  reply  to  some  direct  physical  stimulus  and 
persisting  without  variation  through  the  life  of  the  organism, 
there  is  room  for  a  variation  of  behaviour  according  to  the 
nature  of  the  object  with  which  the  animal  is  brought  into 
contact,  as  revealed  by  the  experience  of  previous  dealings  with 
similar  objects.  The  result  is  that  a  larger  class  of  objects  can 
be  dealt  with,  and  behaviour  can  be  adequately  adapted  to  the 
needs  of  the  organism  over  a  wider  field.  It  is  easy  to  see  how 
this  greater  adaptability,  arising  from  the  power  of  the  animal 
to  utilize  its  own  experiences,  will  work  in  with  that  plasticity 
of  adaptation  which  we  saw  in  the  higher  instincts.  Instinct 
is  always  pressing  the  animal  along  the  course  which  will  satisfy 
it.  If  it  can  learn  by  experience  what  things  satisfy  and  what 
things  do  not,  it  will  be  so  much  the  better  able  to  choose  that 
course. 

Now  the  kind  of  experience  thus  far  described  does  not  carry 
the  animal  beyond  the  direct  and  immediate  results  of  a  given 
reaction.  One  kind  of  act  gives  pleasure  and  another  pain,  and 
these  pleasures  and  pains  must,  it  would  seem,  be  feelings  of 
the  agent  itself;  and  though  the  act  is  suited  to  the  feeling  so 
as  to  secure  the  pleasure  or  avoid  the  pain,  we  cannot  yet  say 
that  the  animal  acts  with  the  intelligent  purpose  of  securing 
the  pleasurable  or  avoiding  the  poinful  experience.  The  full 
reasons  for  this  caution  need  not  be  given  here.  It  is  sufficient 
to  say  that  this  method  of  learning  by  experience  retains  many 
of  the  features  of  a  mcc;",p.nical  process,  and  where  an  animal 


ETHICAL  EVOLUTION  9 

can  learn  so  much  and  no  more,  we  are  to  regard  its  behaviour 
rather  as  determined  by  the  results  of  its  past  experience 
operating  upon  its  brain  structure  than  by  an  intelligent  appre- 
hension of  the  future  experiences  which  its  action  will  secure 
for  it.  We  shall  best  regard  acts  of  this  kind  as  still  within  the 
region  of  impulse,  and  as  only  one  step  upon  the  way  to  behaviour 
regulated  by  an  idea  of  what  is  to  happen  in  the  future,  and  by 
desire  or  aversion  for  that  happening.  But  we  should  remark 
that,  still  within  the  animal  world,  the  capacity  for  learning  by 
experience  reaches  a  higher  level.  The  dog,  for  example,  which 
is  scolded  or  beaten,  let  us  say,  for  lying  with  its  dirty  paws  upon 
a  sofa,  learns  to  avoid  that  sofa  in  the  presence  of  its  master  for 
the  future.  But,  in  so  doing,  the  dog  will  show  a  somewhat 
higher  grade  of  intelligence  than  we  find  in  the  chick  for,  as  we 
know  only  too  well,  it  will,  if  possessed  of  an  ordinary  measure  of 
canine  obstinacy,  avail  itself  of  the  sofa  if  nobody  is  looking  on, 
and  make  a  hurried  descent  if  it  hears  somebody  coming.  There 
is  in  this  an  element  of  intelligence  which,  when  all  the  evidence 
is  put  together,  appears  to  carry  us  beyond  that  simple  modifica- 
tion of  an  inherited  method  of  action  which  we  find  in  the  case  of 
the  chick.  The  dog  does  not  simply  avoid  the  sofa,  he  does  not 
merely  and  stupidly  associate  a  sofa  with  the  beating,  he  continues 
to  like  the  sofa  and  to  get  what  he  can  out  of  it ;  he  knows  that 
it  is  some  particular  person  who  will  punish  him,  and  he  may  even 
disregard  the  presence  of  those  members  of  the  household  whom 
experience  has  shown  him  to  be  less  strict.  In  a  word,  his 
action  has  all  the  appearance  of  being  intelligently  adapted  to 
obtaining  one  result  and  avoiding  another.  He  seems  to  project 
himself  into  the  future  by  however  short  a  distance,  and  to 
know  what  will  happen  to  him  under  certain  conditions;  and 
thus,  as  the  result  which  he  achieves  appears  to  be  the  deter- 
mining factor  in  his  action,  we  may  admit  that  action  to  be 
definitely  purj)osive.  He  not  merely  learns  to  prefer  what  is 
pleasurable  in  itself,  and  avoid  what  is  painful  in  itself,  but  to 
do  things  which  experience  shows  would  have  pleasurable 
results  in  the  future,  and  avoid  things  which  have  painful  results. 
We  may  say  that  he  desires  the  one  and  has  aversion  for  the 
other,  and  thovigh  it  would  not  be  strictly  accurate  to  say  that 
he  desires  pleasure,  it  is  true  to  say  that  he  desires  what  is  pleasant 
and  has  an  aversion  for  what  is  painful,  and  in  this  sense  pleasur- 
able and  painful  feelings  are  still  tlie  guides,  or  indirectly  the 
guides,  of  his  action. 

But  the  dog's  behaviour  is  not  determined  by  his  own  feel- 
ings alone.     The  same  intelligence  which  enables  him  to  make 


10  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

this  modest  forecast  of  the  future,  also  endows  him  with  the 
power  to  recognize  the  individuals  about  him.  He  knows  his 
master  and  his  mistress;  he  distinguishes  friends  and  enemies, 
human  or  animal,  and,  as  we  know,  he  is  ready  to  fly  to  the 
assistance  of  the  one  or  to  the  destruction  of  the  other.  He  has 
every  appearance  of  entering  into  the  moods,  as  far  as  he  can 
appreciate  them,  of  those  around  him,  and  if  we  are  sometimes 
inclined  to  an  uncritical  over-estimate  of  the  dog's  under- 
standing, still  a  fair  consideration  of  the  whole  of  the  facts  leaves 
no  reason  to  doubt  that  substantially  we  are  correct  in  attribut- 
ing to  him  knowledge  of  other  individuals,  and  interest  in  what 
they  do  or  suffer. 

It  is  by  no  accident  that  the  evidence  of  attachment  and 
affection  to  other  individuals,  and  of  attention  to  the  mate  and 
the  young  in  its  higher  developments,  belongs  almost  exclusively 
to  animals  of  the  grade  at  which  this  higher  form  of  intelligence 
begins  to  appear.  Though  the  love  for  the  young  and  the 
attachment  to  comrades  have  instinct  for  their  basis,  yet,  as  we 
have  already  seen,  that  instinct  is  highly  plastic  in  its  methods 
of  effecting  its  ends,  and  in  that  plasticity  evidences  of  in- 
telligence frequently  appear.  Thus  we  shall  not  go  wrong  in 
attributing  to  the  higher  animals  in  their  simple  social  life,  not 
only  the  elementary  feelings,  the  loves  and  hates,  sympathies 
and  jealousies  which  underlie  all  forms  of  society,  but  also  in  a 
rudimentary  stage  the  intelligence  which  enables  those  feelings  to 
direct  the  operations  of  the  animal  so  as  best  to  gratify  them. 

5.  Thus,  when  we  come  to  human  society  we  find  the  basis 
for  a  social  organization  of  life  already  laid  in  the  animal  nature 
of  man.  Like  others  of  the  higher  animals,  man  is  a  gregarious 
beast.  His  interests  lie  in  his  relations  to  his  fellows,  in  his 
love  for  wife  and  children,  in  his  companionship,  possibly  in  his 
rivalry  and  striving  with  his  fellow-men.  His  loves  and  hates, 
his  joys  and  sorrows,  his  pride,  his  wrath,  his  gentleness,  his 
boldness,  his  timidity — all  these  permanent  qualities,  which  run 
through  humanity  and  vary  only  in  degree,  belong  to  his  in- 
herited structure.  Broadly  speaking,  they  are  of  the  nature  of 
instincts,  but  instincts  which  have  become  highly  plastic  in 
their  mode  of  operation,  and  which  need  the  stimulus  of  experience 
to  call  them  forth  and  give  them  definite  shape. 

The  mechanical  methods  of  reaction  which  are  so  prominent 
low  do^Ti  in  the  animal  scale  fill  quite  a  minor  place  in  human 
life.  The  ordinary  operations  of  the  body,  indeed,  go  upon  their 
way  mechanically  enough.     In  walking  or  in  running,  in  saving 


ETHICAL  EVOLUTION  11 

ourselves  from  a  fall,  in  coughing,  sneezing  or  swallowing,  we 
re-act  as  mechanically  as  do  the  lower  animals ;  but  in  the  dis- 
tinctly human  modes  of  behaviour,  the  place  taken  by  the 
inlierited  structure  is  very  different.  Hunger  and  thirst  no 
doubt  are  of  the  nature  of  instincts,  but  the  methods  of  satis- 
fying hunger  and  thirst  are  acquired  by  experience  or  by  teach- 
ing. Love  and  the  whole  family  life  have  an  instinctive  basis, 
that  is  to  say,  they  rest  upon  tendencies  inherited  with  the 
brain  and  nerve  structure ;  but  everji^hing  that  has  to  do  with 
the  satisfaction  of  these  impulses  is  determined  by  the  experience 
of  the  individual,  the  laws  and  customs  of  the  society  in  which 
he  lives,  the  woman  whom  he  meets,  the  accidents  of  their 
intercourse,  and  so  forth.  Instinct,  already  plastic  and  modi- 
fiable in  the  higher  animals,  becomes  in  man  a  basis  of  character 
which  determines  how  he  will  take  his  experience,  but  without 
experience  is  a  mere  blank  form  upon  which  nothing  is  yet 
written. 

For  example,  it  is  an  ingrained  tendency  of  average  human 
nature  to  be  moved  by  the  opinion  of  our  neighbours.  This 
is  a  powerful  motive  in  conduct,  but  the  kind  of  conduct  to 
which  it  will  incite  clearly  depends  on  the  kind  of  thing  that 
our  neighbours  approve.  In  some  parts  of  the  world  ambition 
for  renown  will  prompt  a  man  to  lie  in  wait  for  a  woman  or 
child  in  order  to  add  a  fresh  skull  to  his  collection.  In  other 
parts  he  may  be  urged  by  similar  motives  to  pursue  a  science 
or  paint  a  picture.  In  all  these  cases  the  same  hereditary  or 
instinctive  element  is  at  work,  that  quality  of  character  which 
makes  a  man  respond  sensitively  to  the  feelings  which  others 
manifest  towards  him.  But  the  kind  of  conduct  which  this 
sensitiveness  may  dictate  depends  wholly  on  the  social  environ- 
ment in  which  the  man  finds  himself.  Similarly  it  is,  as  the 
ordinary  phrase  quite  Justly  puts  it,  "  in  human  nature  "  to 
stand  up  for  one's  rights.  A  man  will  strive,  that  is,  to  secure 
that  which  he  has  counted  on  as  his  due.  But  as  to  what  he 
counts  upon,  as  to  the  actual  treatment  which  he  expects  under 
given  circumstances,  his  views  are  determined  by  the  "  custom 
of  the  country,"  by  what  he  sees  others  insisting  on  and  obtain- 
ing, by  what  has  been  promised  him,  and  so  forth.  Even  such 
an  emotion  as  sexual  jealousy,  which  seems  deeply  rooted  in  the 
animal  nature,  is  largely  limited  in  its  exercise  and  determined 
in  the  form  it  takes  by  custom.  A  hospitable  savage,  who  will 
lend  his  wife  to  a  guest,  would  kill  her  for  acting  in  the  same 
way  on  her  own  motion.  In  the  one  case  he  exercises  his  rights 
of  proprieturship ;   in  the  other,  siic  transgresses  them      It  is  the 


12  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

maintenance  of  a  claim  which  jealousy  concerns  itself  with,  and 
the  standard  determining  the  claim  is  the  custom  of  the  country. 
In  human  society,  then,  the  conditions  regulating  conduct  are 
from  the  first  greatly  modified.  Instinct,  becoming  vague  and 
more  general,  has  evolved  into  "  character,"  while  the  intelli- 
gence finds  itself  confronted  with  customs,  to  which  it  has  to 
accommodate  conduct.  But  how  does  custom  arise  ?  Let  us 
first  consider  what  custom  is.  It  is  not  merely  a  habit  of  action ; 
but  it  implies  also  a  judgment  upon  action,  and  a  judgment 
stated  in  general  and  impersonal  terms.  It  would  seem  to 
imply  a  bystander  or  third  party.  If  A  hits  B,  B  probably  hits 
back.  It  is  his  "  habit  "  so  to  do.  But  if  C,  looking  on,  pro- 
nounces that  it  was  or  was  not  a  fair  blow,  he  will  probably 
appeal  to  the  "  custom  "  of  the  country — the  traditional  rules  of 
fighting,  for  instance, — as  the  ground  of  his  judgment.  That  is, 
he  will  lay  down  a  rule  which  is  general  in  the  sense  that  it 
would  apply  to  other  individuals  under  similar  conditions,  and 
by  it  he  will,  as  an  impartial  third  person,  appraise  the  conduct 
of  the  contending  parties.  The  formation  of  such  rules,  resting 
as  it  does  on  the  power  of  framing  and  applying  general  concep- 
tions, is  the  prime  differentia  of  human  morality  from  animal 
behaviour.^  The  fact  that  they  arise  and  are  handed  on  from 
generation  to  generation  makes  social  tradition  at  once  the 
dominating  factor  in  the  regulation  of  human  conduct.  Without 
such  rules  we  can  scarcely  conceive  society  to  exist,  since  it  is 
only  through  the  general  conformity  to  custom  that  men  can 
understand  each  other,  that  each  can  know  how  the  other  will 
act  under  given  circumstances,  and  without  this  amount  of 
understanding  the  reciprocity,  which  is  the  vital  principle  of 
society,  disappears. 

6.  How  custom  grows  and  how  it  is  related  to  individual 
character  may  in  a  general  way  be  understood  by  considering 
how  the  process  goes  on  amongst  ourselves.     Consider  for  a 

1  It  implies  all  the  growth  that  is  involved  in  the  formation  of  general 
rules  of  conduct  as  opposed  to  memories  or  anticipation  of  particular 
events,  and  on  the  moral  side  the  growth  of  will  as  opposed  to  desire, 
and  the  formation  of  objects  of  permanent  interest — relatively  stable 
sources  of  happiness — as  opposed  to  objects  of  temporary  pleasure.  By 
desire  we  are  to  understand  impulse  informed  by  the  anticipation  of  an 
event.  By  will,  a  reaction  of  character  to  ends  in  which  a  relatively  stable 
and  permanent  satisfaction  is  found.  Its  authority  over  desire  we  call 
self-control,  but  it  is  rather  control  by  the  self  as  a  whole  of  one  or  other 
of  the  impulses  which  conflict  with  its  permanent  tendency.  It  is  only 
when  this  relatively  stable  and  balanced  adoption  of  permanent  ends  oi 
abiding  principles  is  psychologically  possible  that  the  inculcation  of  general 
rules  could  have  any  meaning. 


ETHICAL  EVOLUTION  13 

moment  the  judgments  that  we  pass  on  our  neighbours  or  on 
public  men,  and  see  how  they  are  formed  and  how  they  operate. 
Many,  indeed  it  is  to  be  feared  by  far  the  larger  portion,  are 
made  parrot  fashion  by  the  application  of  the  first  rough-and- 
ready  rule,  the  simplest  and  shortest  formula  that  leaps  to  our 
lips.  We  approve  and  condemn — generally  condemn — in  the 
patter  of  the  tram-car  or  the  railway  carria.ge,  fitting  on  modes 
of  judgment  that  are  flying  about  from  mouth  to  mouth  and 
scarcely  obtain  a  lodgment  in  the  brain.  In  these  cases  we  are 
at  best  accepting  and  passing  on  what  we  find  ready  made  for 
us  by  society.  But  how  did  it  come  to  be  made,  since  society 
is,  after  all,  ourselves  and  those,  not  so  greatly  differing  from  us, 
who  went  before  ?  This  points  us  to  a  deeper,  more  original 
source  of  the  moral  judgment,  and  this,  in  fact,  we  find  in  our- 
selves in  that  smaller  number  of  cases  in  which  the  subject  of 
discussion  stirs  some  impulse  within  us,  touches  some  spring  of 
our  own  nature,  moves  some  hidden  sympathy  or  antipathy  that 
dissipates  the  patter  of  the  street  and  speaks  out  for  itself. 
Whenever  this  happens  we  ourselves  originate  a  moral  judgment, 
and  we  do  not  need  to  be  told  that  this  judgment  has  its  imme- 
diate source  in  some  feature  of  our  own  character,  our  sense 
of  justice,  our  love  of  our  country,  our  hatred  of  meanness  or 
cruelty,  or  whatever  it  may  be.  According  as  one  or  another  of 
these  elements  is  strong  in  us,  so  do  we  become,  as  it  were, 
centres  from  which  judgments  of  one  kind  or  another  radiate, 
from  which  they  pass  forth  to  fill  the  atmosphere  of  opinion,  and 
take  their  place  among  the  influences  that  mould  the  judgments 
of  other  men.  For  no  sooner  has  the  judgment  escaped  us — a 
winged  word  from  our  own  lips — than  it  impinges  on  the  judg- 
ment simiharly  flying  forth  to  do  its  work  from  our  next-door 
neighbour,  and  if  the  subject  is  an  exciting  one  the  air  is  soon 
full  of  the  winged  forces  clashing,  deflecting  or  reinforcing  one 
another  as  the  case  may  be,  and  generally  settling  down  towards 
some  preponderating  opinion  which  is  society's  judgment  on  the 
case.  But  in  the  course  of  the  conflict  many  of  the  original 
judgments  are  modified.  Discussion,  further  consideration, 
above  all,  the  mere  influence  of  our  neighbour's  opinion  re-acts 
on  each  of  us,  with  a  stress  that  is  proportioned  to  various  mental 
and  moral  characteristics  of  our  own,  our  clearness  of  vision, 
our  firmness  or,  perhaps,  obstinacy  of  character,  our  self-con- 
fidence, and  so  forth.  Thus,  the  controversy  will  tend  to  leave 
its  mark,  small  or  great,  on  those  who  took  part  in  it.  It  will 
tend  to  modify  their  modes  of  judgment,  confirming  one,  perhaps, 
in  his  former  ways,  shaking  the  confidence  of  another,  opening 


14  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

the  eyes  of  a  third.  Similarly,  it  will  tend  to  set  a  precedent  for 
future  judgments.  It  will  affect  what  men  say  and  think  on 
the  next  question  that  turns  up.  It  adds  its  weight,  of  one  grain 
it  may  be,  to  some  force  that  is  turning  the  scale  of  ojiinion  and 
preparing  society  for  some  new  departure.  In  any  case,  we 
have  here  in  miniature  at  work  every  day  before  our  eyes  the 
essential  process  by  wliich  moral  judgments  arise  and  grow. 
Here  we  have  the  individual  with  his  spontaneous  utterance 
springing  from  his  own  character,  guided  by  what  lights  he  has. 
Here  again  we  have  the  clash  of  judgments  so  delivered,  the 
war  of  ideas,  the  resultant  opinion  of  society,  the  consequent 
re-modelling  of  their  first  judgment  in  individuals,  the  growth 
in  society  of  a  certain  way  of  looking  at  things,  in  short,  of  a 
tradition.  Individual  impulse  and  social  tradition  are  thus  the 
two  poles  between  which  we  move. 

Deep  as  are  the  contrasts  between  modern  society  and  primitive 
hfe,  we  have  no  reason  to  doubt  that  there,  too,  the  same  forces 
were  at  work.  The  process  would  be  far  slower,  though  in- 
finitely less  mobile,  and  custom  once  formed  far  more  set  and 
crystallized.  But  the  prime  factors  are  the  same.  There  is 
always  the  character  of  each  individual  as  it  has  grown  up  under 
the  conditions  of  heredity,  with  its  sympathies  and  antipathies, 
its  impulses  social  and  selfish,  its  susceptibilities  and  feehngs  in 
which  the  relations  of  human  being  to  human  being  play  so 
prominent  a  part,  uttering  itself  in  judgments  which  praise  or 
condemn  conduct,  forming  conceptions  of  good  and  bad,  right 
and  wrong,  as  things  jump  with  its  feelings  or  displease  them. 
There  is  always  the  influence  of  the  society  in  which  each  man 
is  born,  the  interaction  between  mind  and  mind  and  the  shaping 
of  individual  opinions  into  a  social  standard,  the  modelling  of 
each  new  generation  by  the  heavy  hand  of  the  past. 

7.  That  the  moral  standard  of  man  is  based  on  the  character 
of  man,  though  it  sounds  like  a  truism,  is  a  principle  which  has 
been  but  little  understood  in  modern  ethics.  It  has  generally 
been  assumed  that  the  alternative  lay  between  resolving  the 
moral  code  into  something  essentially  non-moral,  e.g.  self-interest, 
or  admitting  an  authoritative  mode  of  judgment,  intuitive  or 
rational,  the  deliverance  of  which  could  admit  of  no  further 
analysis.  Even  the  admission  that  morality  has  an  instinctive 
basis  might  seem  to  remove  it  from  criticism,  in  view  of  the 
common  conception  of  instinct  as  universal,  infallible,  and  essen- 
tially non-rational.  A  juster  conception  of  instinct  as  something 
which  throughout  the  animal  world  is  found  to  vary  greatly  in 


ETHICAL   EVOLUTION  15 

individuals,  to  be  quite  fallible,  often  imperfect  and  capable  from 
an  early  stage  of  employing  elementary  reasoning  in  its  service, 
enables  us  to  see  the  genesis  of  morality  in  a  different  light.  The 
instinctive  element  in  human  morality  is  by  no  means  an  un- 
failing power  implanted  by  nature  in  aU  men  to  distinguish 
right  from  wrong.  It  is  a  name  for  human  character  as  it  grows 
up  under  the  conditions  of  heredity,  and  it  is  from  this  character, 
with  all  the  faults  and  foibles  along  with  the  virtues  thereof,  that 
the  moral  judgment  issues.  Human  morality  is  as  blind  and 
imperfect  as  man  himself. 

With  some  writers  the  view  has  found  favour  that  sympathy 
is  the  basis  of  morality  and  of  society.  There  is  an  element  of 
truth  in  this,  but  it  is  too  simple  a  statement.  First,  it  is  not 
sympathy  alone  that  draws  men  together.  Men  have  need  of 
each  other,  physical  need,  and  also  a  moral  need  for  which 
sympathy  is  too  simple  an  expression.  Men  may  be  drawn 
together  by  hate,  by  the  passions  of  pride,  by  the  love  of  com- 
petition— by  a  thousand  motives  which  are  far  from  being  purely 
sympathetic  or  wholly  good.  Even  love  and  affection,  though 
at  their  best  they  imply  sympathy,  are  not  as  such  the  same 
thing — otherwise  passionate  love  would  not  so  often  be  selfish. 
Secondly,  if  we  take  the  actual  as  opposed  to  the  ideal  codes  of 
mankind  pure  sympathy  is  certainly  not  their  sole  basis.  It  is  a 
factor  in  them.  They  enjoin  mutual  support,  mutual  forbear- 
ance, they  express  in  some  degree  the  desire  of  the  impartial  on- 
looker to  side  with  the  man  who  is  wronged.  Yet  in  average 
moraHty  there  is  a  very  strong  dose  of  the  opposite  quality.  The 
workaday  rules  of  conduct  belong  to  the  morals  of  strife,  of 
actual  warfare  it  may  be,  or  it  may  be  of  peaceful  but  not  less 
deadly  competition.  In  the  mere  apportionment  of  praise  and 
blame  the  blame  is  apt  to  be  by  far  the  more  interesting  part  of 
the  matter  and  the  exercise  of  censorship  has  made  the  very  name 
of  moralist  one  to  flee  from.  The  rude  mind  thoroughly  enjoyed 
the  time  when  "  the  villain  had  his  flogging  at  the  gangway  and 
we  cheered."  To  the  more  cultivated  a  moral  flagellation  is  no 
less  acceptable.  It  is  only  the  highest  ethical  thought  which 
rises  above  the  categories  of  praise  and  blame  to  the  clear-eyed 
vision  of  humanity  wherein  to  "  judge  "  men  means  merely  to 
learn  how  to  deal  with  them  so  that  they  may  serve  and  not  mar 
the  common  good. 

Let  us,  then,  understand  that  human  morahty  from  the  first 
rests  on  the  antagonisms  as  well  as  the  sympathies,  the  corrup- 
tions and  foibles  as  well  as  the  excellences  of  human  nature.  It 
does  not  follow  that  it  is  a  form  of  selfishness  based  on  the 


16  MORALS   IN  EVOLUTION 

desire  for  reciprocal  benefits.  Such  a  genesis  would  be  out  of 
keeping  not  only  with  the  content  of  morality  itself,  but  with  all 
that  we  know  of  the  origin  of  instinct.  Reciprocity  undoubtedly 
has  a  weighty  influence  in  the  shaping  of  conduct.  It  tends  to 
set  the  average  standard.  A  upon  the  whole  will  be  content  to 
do  for  B  what  B  has  done  for  him,  and  moreover  C  will  expect  as 
much  of  A.  If  he  does  less  he  is  mean,  if  more  he  is  generous. 
In  the  absence  of  selfish  motives,  again,  the  standard  is  apt  to 
run  down.  Men  do  not  become  dead  to  obligation,  but  they 
interpret  it  laxly,  and  in  the  absence  of  criticism  give  all  the 
doubtful  points  in  their  own  favour.  Where  there  is  no  compul- 
sion to  give  anything,  the  donor  of  a  penny  may  swear  that  he 
has  done  more  than  was  required  of  him.  Hence  (incidentally) 
the  importance  in  many  matters  of  public  ethics  of  substituting 
legal  obUgation  for  the  good-will  of  individuals.  The  best  men 
do  their  duty  already  of  their  own  motion.  True — but  make 
what  they  do  the  law.  The  result  is  to  raise  the  whole  standard. 
The  worst  are  worked  up  to  it,  the  best  find  still  better  things 
to  do.  All  this  may  prove  that  selfish  considerations  sway 
mankind,  but  of  the  doctrine  of  self-interest  as  the  primary  and 
only  genuine  human  motive,  it  is  sufficient  to  say  that  it  bears 
no  relation  to  the  facts  of  human  nature,  and  implies  an  incorrect 
view  of  the  origin  of  instinct. 

8.  Instinct  we  saw  arose  under  the  conditions  of  animal  life, 
and  is  therefore  bound  in  the  main  to  subserve  and  not  to  hinder 
the  needs  of  the  living  animal.  There  is  an  analogous  condition 
limiting,  and  indirectly  shaping,  the  moral  judgment,  for  if  the 
standard  of  conduct  were  so  perversely  formed  as  to  favour 
actions  tending  to  the  dissolution  of  the  social  bond,  it  would  in 
the  end  be  self -destructive.  The  society  which  should  habitu- 
ally favour  such  conduct  would  perish  by  its  inlierent  vices,  and 
thus,  as  Plato  urges,  the  saying  that  there  must  be  honour  even 
among  thieves  expresses  a  very  important  truth.  But  the  Hmit 
thus  imposed  is  a  very  elastic  one,  and  this  factor  by  no  means 
works  so  uniformly  for  good  as  might  be  supposed.  To  begin 
with,  society's  shoulders  are  broad,  and  they  can  bear  many  a 
burden  imposed  by  human  perversity  without  breaking  down. 
Many  injurious  customs  may  arise  and  flourish  as  long  as  they 
do  not  touch  the  social  life  in  a  vital  spot.  Secondly,  the  prin- 
ciple cuts  both  ways,  as  the  example  of  the  thieves  itself  suggests. 
If  the  thieves  become  too  honourable  they  would  give  up  thieving 
and  their  particular  form  of  society  would  break  down.  This 
same  consideration  holds  of  all  class  morality,     The  members  of 


ETHICAL  EVOLUTION  17 

a  privileged  class  must,  if  they  are  to  remain  a  privileged  class, 
carefully  resist  the  encroachment  of  wider  conceptions  of  the 
public  good.  They  must  combat  such  conceptions  not  only  in 
principle  but  in  their  detailed  application.  They  must  extirpate 
any  mode  of  thought  which  they  find  rising  among  their  mem- 
bers in  which  a  dangerous  imphcation  may  be  detected.  Or, 
failing  to  extirpate  it,  they  must  employ  some  of  those  methods 
of  interpretation  which  long  experience  has  proved  useful  in 
drawing  the  sting  out  of  higher  ethical  truth.  The  study  of 
these  methods,  however,  is  not  our  immediate  purpose.  All  we 
have  to  remark  is  that,  while  the  requirements  of  the  social 
union  are  an  underlying  condition  limiting  the  movement  of 
the  ethical  consciousness,  these  requirements  themselves  vary 
according  to  the  nature  of  each  society,  and  while  there  are  some 
changes  which  w^ould  destroy  society  altogether — as  e.  g.  if  a 
doctrine  of  universal  celibacy  were  to  prevail — there  are  others 
which  would  merely  destroy  the  existing  form  of  society  by 
transmuting  it  into  sometliing  different,  perhaps  worse,  perhaps 
better.  Historically,  both  the  fundamental  requirements  of  the 
social  order  and  the  more  occasional  requirements  of  a  given 
stage  in  social  evolution  have  deeply  influenced  ethical  growth. 
But  the  influence  is  for  the  most  part  unconscious.  Men  feel 
in  that  dim  fashion  which  is  popularly  called  instinctive  that  a 
given  change  is  pregnant  with  consequences  that  would  deeply 
afEect  the  social  order,  and  without  thinking  the  matter  out,  they 
are  prejudiced  for  or  against  the  change,  according  as  they  are 
dissatisfied  or  contented  with  thmgs  as  they  are.  The  bearmgs 
of  any  new  judgment  on  the  general  framework  of  social  life 
must  therefore  be  set  down  as  a  most  important  factor  in 
determining  its  acceptance  or  rejection,  though  the  working  of 
this  factor  may  be  obscure  and  indirect,  and  may  indeed  be 
fully  accomplished  without  the  deliberate  agency  of  any  single 
individual  who  has  thought  the  whole  matter  out. 

But,  in  fact,  as  human  inteUigence  expands,  these  under- 
lying conditions  of  ethical  movements  are  no  longer  left  to 
work  out  their  effects  slowly  and  indirectly  in  the  sphere  of 
the  unconscious.  On  the  contrary,  the  requirements  of  social 
welfare  are  deliberately  taken  into  account  in  dealing  with  new 
questions,  and  even  established  customs  and  traditions  are 
criticized  in  the  light  of  experience.  Here  emerge  some  of 
the  broad  differences  between  primitive  and  more  advanced 
societies. 

To  Primitive  Man  custom,  as  such,  is  sacred.  It  is  true  that 
it  often  has  some  theory  to  back  it.  It  may  be  that  it  was  a. 
c 


18  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

rule  received  from  the  heroes  of  old,  or  brought  down  graven  on 
stone  from  Smai,  that  its  violation  would,  as  the  Australians 
hold,  produce  a  variety  of  bodily  ailments,  or,  as  the  ancient 
Babylonians  held,  expose  the  offender  to  the  malevolence  of 
witch  or  demon.  But,  in  reality,  the  customary  is  sacred  because 
it  is  customary,  and  Sophocles  is  nearer  the  true  feeling  of  the 
ordinary  mind  when  he  makes  Antigone  declare  that  the  moral 
law  is  sacred,  "  because  it  is  not  of  to-day  or  yesterday,  but  lives 
for  ever,  and  none  knows  whence  it  sprang."  To  the  primitive 
mind — and  in  all  of  us  there  is  a  good  deal  of  the  primitive — it 
is  only  the  mysterious  that  is  impressive,  and  custom  would 
lose  half  its  force  if  its  origin  and  meaning  could  be  rationally 
explained  and  logically  justified.  But  thought  does  not  remain 
permanently  at  this  level.  As  we  follow  the  ethical  movement 
in  its  advance,  we  shall  find  more  and  more  that  the  interest 
shifts  from  the  tradition  which  men  follow  half  mechanically  to 
the  deliberate  attempt  to  re-organize  conduct  on  the  basis  of 
some  distinct  theory  of  life.  A  rehgious  movement,  a  new  con- 
ception of  God  or  the  future  life,  a  philosophical  theory  of  man's 
place  in  nature,  a  fresh  analysis  of  human  society,  shifts  the 
basis  and  so  affects  the  standard  of  conduct.  At  the  same  time, 
the  converse  truth  must  never  be  lost  sight  of.  The  existing 
structure  of  society,  the  character  of  physical  environment,  and 
the  views  current  in  his  surroundings  of  the  duties  of  man, 
insensibly  affect  the  thought  of  the  profoundest  and  most 
original  prophet  or  thinker.  Nowhere  is  the  feat  of  escaping 
from  one's  own  shadow  harder  than  in  the  world  of  ethical  and 
rehgious  thought.  Thus,  in  ethics,  custom  and  theory  are  in 
constant  and  close  interaction,  and  our  subject,  the  comparative 
study  of  ethics,  must  embrace  them  both.  It  would  include, 
were  it  within  one  man's  power  to  treat  it  exhaustively,  at  the 
one  extreme  the  quasi -instinctive  judgment  based  on  the  un- 
thinking acceptance  of  tradition,  at  the  other  the  profoundest 
theory  of  the  thinker  seeking  a  rational  basis  of  conduct  and  an 
intelligible  formula  to  express  the  end  of  life,  and  between  these 
two  the  influences,  rational  and  half  rational,  which  are  at  work 
with  increased  assiduity  as  civilization  advances,  re-modeUing 
custom  and  substituting  deliberately-accepted  principle,  whether 
true,  half  true,  or  false,  for  bhnd  tradition.  The  one  thing 
common  to  both  extremes  and  all  the  intermediate  region,  is 
that  there  are  things  that  men  approve  and  disapprove — con- 
duct, character,  purposes,  results — that  they  judge  "  good  "  or 
"  bad."  The  subject  of  etliics  may  therefore  be  defined  in  the 
broadest  terms  as  the  inquiry  into  the  Conception  of  the  Good, 


ETHICAL   EVOLUTION  19 

and  the  business  of  comparative  ethics  is  to  determine  the 
generic  character  and  principal  specific  variations  of  this  con- 
ception as  actually  held  by  men  in  different  places  at  different 
times.  Finally,  it  must  inquire  whether  among  these  conceptions 
there  is  anything  that  can  be  called  development. 

9.  Thus  the  conception  of  the  Good  is  the  central  point  of 
ethics,  and  whatever  belongs  essentially  to  this  conception  we 
call  ethical.  Variations  in  the  conception  of  the  good,  for  in- 
stance, we  call  ethical  variations ;  development  in  it,  if  such 
there  be,  ethical  development.  The  essential  conditions,  such 
as  human  character,  on  which  the  conception  depends,  are  the 
"  ethical  "  factors  in  life. 

Now  the  conception  of  the  Good  is  the  logical  foundation  of 
every  rule  of  action — that  is,  of  the  whole  standard  of  conduct. 
But  it  is  important  to  observe  from  the  outset,  as  bearing  on 
the  limits  of  our  inquiry,  that  the  standard  of  conduct  may  be 
affected  by  causes  which  are  not  ethical  in  origin  though  they 
may  come  to  have  ethical  consequences.  On  one  and  the  same 
conception  of  the  good,  for  example,  the  same  conduct  may  be 
ilifferently  judged,  merely  because  its  results  were  once  believed 
to  be  good,  and  are  shown  by  a  later  experience  to  be  other  than 
was  at  first  supposed.  For  example,  a  magical  rite  may  be  pre- 
scribed as  a  duty  because  it  is  believed  to  be  efficacious  in  averting 
a  calamity  to  one's  self,  one's  family,  one's  society,  as  the  case 
may  be.  If  the  belief  in  magic  disappears,  the  performance 
of  the  rite  will  cease  to  be  obligatory,  although  there  may  be 
no  change  in  the  current  conception  of  the  duties  to  society, 
family  or  self.  From  this  simple  example  we  can  understand 
that  rules  of  conduct  are  affected  by  the  general  level  of  in- 
telligence and  knowledge.  The  whole  character  of  man's  out- 
look on  the  world,  the  degree  in  which  he  understands  the  forces 
which  surround  him,  will  naturally  affect  his  behaviour  in  many 
directions.  It  may  be  said  that  this  has  nothing  to  do  with 
ethics,  but  turns  on  the  obvious  distinction  between  means  and 
ends.  The  end,  which  is  what  men  really  conceive  as  "  good," 
is  the  same,  only  advancing  knowledge  alters  their  view  as  to 
the  means  of  securing  it.  But  the  relationship  is  in  reality  far 
more  intricate  and  subtle  than  this.  Not  merely  the  working 
rules  of  behaviour,  but  the  actual  conception  of  what  is  good  or 
bad  is  profoundly  influenced  by  the  ideas  current  of  man's  place 
in  nature  and  of  the  forces  which  surround  him,  while  conversely 
the  conception  of  the  good  that  he  has  formed  influences  man's 
ideas  about  the  world  and  the  agencies  which  control  it.     What 


20  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

the  gods  ordain  comes  to  be  thought  right,  and  so  to  influence 
character;  while,  again,  if  men  come  to  see  that  what  the  gods 
have  ordained  is  wrong,  their  conception  of  the  gods  is  altered 
and  a  religious  revolution  is  brought  about.  Here  even  the 
silence  of  the  ethical  consciousness  is  instructive.  If  a  barbarous 
practice,  such  as  human  sacrifice,  is  tolerated  as  a  part  of  religion, 
the  mere  fact  that  the  moral  sense  does  not  rise  in  revolt  against 
it  is  painful  evidence  of  the  stunted  growth  of  that  side  of  human 
nature.  But  though  ethical  conceptions  thus  influence  and  are 
influenced  by  the  general  condition  of  knowledge  and  the  con- 
ception that  man  forms  of  the  world  in  which  he  lives,  we  cannot 
say  that  ethical,  intellectual  and  religious  development  are  the 
same  thing.  Many  advances  in  knov/ledge  may  be  made  without 
aiBfecting  the  conception  of  the  good  in  the  smallest  degree. 
Many  religious  conceptions  have  no  bearing  for  good  or  evil 
upon  ethics.  It  is  best  to  regard  these  factors  of  develop- 
ment not  as  identical  but  as  closely  correlated.  In  particular, 
ethical  and  religious  evolution  are  closely  intertwined,  and  we 
shall  have  to  trace  the  second  in  so  far  as  it  is  essential  to  the 
first. 

Again,  individual  conduct  may  be  determined  not  by  a  con- 
ception of  the  good  but  by  the  compulsion  of  law.  Here  there 
is  at  first  sight  another  non-ethical  influence,  controlling  be- 
haviour, but  here,  again,  when  we  look  further,  we  see  that  the 
relation  is  more  intimate.  Not  only  are  laws  founded  upon 
some  one's  conception  of  the  good  (though  not  always  that  of  the 
subject  who  obeys  the  law),  but  law  in  turn  affects  the  concep- 
tion of  the  good  itself,  and  as  with  law  so  with  changes  of  the 
social  structure  generally.  Now  such  social  changes  take  place 
for  the  most  part  without  any  planning  or  designing  on  the  part 
of  the  society  which  experiences  them.  Just  as  the  individual 
grows  with  no  effort  on  his  own  part,  and  with  only  a  very 
limited  power  of  regulating  his  physical  development,  so  society 
grows,  changes,  and  it  may  be  decays,  in  ways  and  from  causes 
of  which  it  is  for  the  most  part  quite  unaware.  It  is  only  in  the 
later  stages  of  culture  that  men  begin  to  study  systematically 
the  nature  of  social  forces  and  the  conditions  of  growth,  arrest 
and  decay.  No  doubt  the  efforts  of  the  teacher  or  the  statesman 
to  resist  glaring  evils  or  develop  beneficent  tendencies  have 
their  effect,  and  the  part  played  by  deliberate  reform  increases 
as  culture  develops.  Yet  the  forces  which  move  society  and  are 
ever  changing  the  mutual  relations  of  its  members  are  so  vast 
and  so  intricate  that  they  still  in  great  measure  elude  the  grasp 
of  the  wisest  minds,  and,  as  every  one  knows,  the  reforms  most 


ETHICAL  EVOLUTION  21 

deliberately  planned  and  most  carefully  thought  out  have  a 
hundred  unexpected  reactions  over  and  above  the  direct  effect 
wliich  they  were  designed  to  produce.  Now  these  slow  and 
silent  changes  of  society  are  always  modifying  the  ethical 
standard  as  expressed  in  the  customs  of  society.  Purely 
economic  changes,  for  example,  will  tend  to  raise  one  class  and 
depress  another.  A  community  in  wliich  comparative  equahty 
has  reigned  may  give  way  to  one  divided  feetween  rich  and 
poor,  and  from  such  a  division  some  form  of  class  morality  is 
almost  certain  to  arise.  That  is  to  say,  the  difference  in  social 
power  will  be  represented  by  a  differentiation  in  the  social  code 
between  the  behaviour  due  to  a  member  of  the  more  powerful 
class  and  that  due  to  "  inferiors."  Such  causes  as  the  accumula- 
tion of  capital  and  the  rise  of  large  urban  markets  have  at  times 
made  slave  labour  especially  profitable,  and  slavery  has  accord- 
ingly received  a  great  extension,  while  the  class  of  free  citizens 
has  declined.  In  such  cases  the  society  affected  appears  to  the 
on-looker  to  have  undergone  a  distinct  moral  deterioration.  So 
perhaps  it  has,  but  it  is  important  to  observe  that  the  origin  of 
the  dechne  is  not  moral  but  economic.  The  true  account  of  the 
change  in  most  of  these  cases  is  probably  that  a  lowered  sense 
of  the  value  of  human  life  or  a  degradation  of  the  ideal  of  citizen- 
ship has  come  about  from  the  rise  or  extension  of  slavery,  not 
that  slavery  has  come  about  from  a  lowered  sense  of  the  value 
of  human  life.  For  what  we  call  practical  purjjoses,  v/hich  too 
often  mean  simply  for  unscientific  purposes,  the  distinction  may 
seem  unimportant.  But  let  us  look  a  little  further.  We  have 
assumed  a  case  in  which  the  deterioration  proceeds  unchecked. 
Suppose,  instead,  that  it  awakes  a  protest,  as  among  the  Hebrews 
the  sharpening  contrasts  of  wealth  and  poverty  awoke  the 
prophets.  Suppose  the  protest  successful  and  the  deterioration 
arrested.  Here  a  distinctly  ethical  ideal,  a  judgment  of  right 
and  wrong,  an  expression  of  character,  has  prevailed,  and, 
instead  of  being  passively  shaped  by  the  social  tendencies,  has 
subdued  the  social  tendencies  to  itself.  How  should  we  account 
for  the  difference  between  this  case  and  the  last  ?  We  should 
have  to  admit  that  though  at  the  outset  both  communities  held 
the  same  standard  of  social  justice,  yet  they  held  it  after  a  very 
different  fashion.  To  one  it  was  a  principle,  or  at  any  rate  was 
capable,  when  challenged,  of  becoming  a  principle.  To  the 
other  it  was  a  custom  merely,  due  rather  to  the  favour  of 
circumstances  than  to  the  wisdom  or  moral  qualities  of  the 
citizens — it  was  the  imiocence  preserved  only  through  the  want 
of  temptation.     Thus  it  is  not  difficult  to  see  that  it  maj'  make 


22  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

a  great  difference,  "  practical  "  as  well  as  scientific,  whether 
a  good  custom  owes  its  existence  to  social  circumstances  or  to  a 
deliberate  acceptance  of  it  as  wise  and  right. 

Thus,  sociological  development  is  not  the  same  thing  as 
ethical  development.  Social  growth  may  produce  a  set  of 
institutions  of  a  certain  value  which  no  brain  created,  no  human 
being  planned,  and  which  even  those  who  enjoy  them  do  not 
sufficiently  appreciate  to  maintain  them  against  attack.  This  is 
the  element  of  the  unconscious  in  social  life.  On  the  other 
hand,  changes  may  arise  from  the  growth  of  character  or  of  a 
reasoned  conception  of  the  good,  and  so  far  they  are  due  to  an 
ethical  development.  From  the  ethical  point  of  view  institu- 
tions depending  on  a  certain  degree  of  ethical  advance  are  of 
much  more  value  than  precisely  similar  institutions  reached  by 
another  road,  and  the  difference  is  likely  to  emerge  in  their 
subsequent  history.  For  as  the  non-ethical  changes  of  society 
affect  the  standard  of  conduct,  so  ethical  ideas  may  in  their 
turn  re-act  upon  social  organization.  Such  a  re-action  has  made 
a  large  part  of  the  history  of  the  modern  world,  and  analogies 
can  be  traced  in  ancient  times,  particularly  when,  as  in  the 
instance  quoted  among  the  Hebrews,  a  tenacious  tribe  adheres, 
amid  the  growth  of  civilization,  to  the  ideals  of  a  simpler  life 
and  a  primitive  social  equality.  An  interaction  of  this  kind 
is  the  chemistry  out  of  which  come  great  explosions — ^social, 
religious  and  ethical. 

Thus  the  whole  mass  of  rules  and  regulations  whereby 
humanity  seeks  to  guide  its  life  is,  on  the  face  of  it,  interesting 
to  the  inquirer  into  comparative  ethics.  These  rules  are  not  all 
necessarily  ethical  in  origin,  nor  do  all  those  which  are  recognized 
in  any  given  society  necessarily  express  the  living  character  of 
human  beings  in  that  society  at  the  moment.  But  as  showing 
both  what  the  ethical  consciousness  has  done,  and  what  it  has 
failed  to  do,  they  are  full  of  interest  and  significance  for  com- 
parative ethics.  Social  changes  proceeding  insensibly  through 
the  strengthening  of  forces  in  one  direction,  and  their  weakening 
in  another,  affect  the  moral  standard  for  good  or  evil.  Beliefs 
concerning  the  agencies  underlying  nature's  operations  supply 
grounds  good  or  bad  for  many  judgments.  These  are  the  main 
forces  which  impinge  on  the  conception  of  the  good,  shaping  and 
shaped  by  it  in  accordance  with  the  degree  of  intelligence  with 
which  it  has  been  formed,  and  the  firmness  with  which  it  is 
held.  We  shall  accordingly  have  to  deal  not  only  with  custom 
and  law%  but  also  with  the  principal  forms  of  social  organization 
on  the  one  hand,  and  of  religious  thought  upon  the  other.     Only 


ETHICAL  EVOLUTION  23 

with  these  before  us  shall  we  be  in  a  position  to  trace  the  outline 
of  ethical  evolution. 

10.  We  have  defined  our  subject  as  the  study  of  ethical  con- 
ceptions. It  might  be  suggested  that  ethics  should  rather  study 
the  history  of  conduct  itself.  Such  an  inquiry,  however,  would 
be  as  unfruitful  as  it  would  be  limitless.  We  may  hope  with 
very  considerable  difficulty  to  present  a  fair  comparison  of  the 
different  moral  codes  that  have  been  accepted  at  sundry  times 
and  divers  places.  But  to  attempt  to  estimate  how  far  the 
conduct  of  men  has  conformed  to  those  codes  would  be  quite 
another  thing.  There  is  no  social  measuring  rod  by  which  we 
could  compare  degrees  of  obedience  to  law.  Civilized  societies, 
with  their  records  of  criminal  statistics,  might,  indeed,  repay 
investigation  from  this  point  of  view,  though  there  is  no  depart- 
ment in  which  statistics  are  more  apt  to  mislead,  and  that  is 
sajdng  a  good  deal.  But  if  we  were  to  take  ruder  societies  into 
account,  the  means  of  investigation  would  wholly  fail.  All  that 
we  can  hope  to  do  in  comparing  different  stages  of  growth  is 
to  deal  with  recognized  customs,  accepted  maxims,  and  ideas 
expressed  in  mythology,  in  literature,  or  in  art.  In  other  words, 
we  could  only  hope  to  give  the  history  of  those  ethical  concep- 
tions which  are  recognized  as  rules  of  conduct,  and  we  must  give 
up  as  wholly  beyond  our  power  the  investigation  of  the  degree 
in  which  conduct  itself  conforms  to  those  rules. 

But  this  is  not  so  much  as  to  say  that  we  are  deahng  with 
ideas  only,  and  not  with  practice  at  all.  In  Ethics  there  are 
principles  and  principles,  and  the  distinction  between  them  is 
often  clear  enough.  A  rule  of  conduct  may  be  a  genuine  ex- 
pression of  what  people  actually  feel  and  think,  or  it  may  bo 
an  ideal  bearing  as  little  relation  to  common  practice  as  the 
Sermon  on  the  Mount  to  the  code  of  the  Stock  Exchange.  In 
other  words,  there  is  a  difference  between  the  rule  to  which 
society  expects  you  to  conform  and  the  rule  which  it  keeps  for 
Sunday  use  only.  Both  are  rules  and  both  may  be  broken. 
Hence  to  record  either  of  them  is  to  record  not  what  conduct 
always  is,  but  what  it  is  thought  it  ought  to  be.  But  there  is 
this  immense  difference  :  that  one  rule  has  behind  it  the  forces 
of  society,  and  so  becomes  in  fact  the  normal  conduct  of  the 
average  man,  while  the  other  rests  on  the  teaching  of  the  idealist 
and  is  perhaps  practised  only  by  the  best  men  in  their  best 
moments.  This  broad  distinction  we  must  keep  in  mind,  if 
we  would  not  immensely  over-rate  the  morals  of  the  civilized 
world,  which,  unlike  the  savage  and  barbarian  world,  has  almost 


24  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

invariably  a  double  code,  one  for  use  and  the  other — as  a  cynic 
would  say — for  ornament. 

Indeed,  the  modern  European  has  not  one  or  two,  but  many 
codes  claiming  his  allegiance — the  code  of  rehgion,  the  code  of 
honour,  the  code  of  his  profession,  perhaps  the  code  of  his  class, 
and  it  may  be  the  theories  and  ideals  which  he  has  imbibed 
from  his  own  favourite  teachers.  All  these  codes  may,  and  not 
infrequently  do,  conflict.  The  comparative  student  has  no  baro- 
meter to  measure  adequately  their  relative  efficacy.  All  he  can 
do  is  to  apply  his  broad  test  and  ask  whether  they  are  or  are 
not  working  codes,  i.  e.  rules  expressing  the  average  conduct 
which  society  expects  and  enforces,  or  rules  which  it  is  safer  to 
disregard  than  to  deny.  But  it  by  no  means  follows  that  when 
he  has  applied  the  test  he  may  proceed  to  leave  the  highest 
ideals,  "  the  high  which  proved  too  high,  the  heroic  for  earth  too 
hard,"  altogether  out  of  his  account.  That  men  have  held  these 
views  is  a  fact  of  great  significance  for  ethical  science.  It  is 
also  a  fact  of  scarcely  less  significance,  that  society  which  cannot 
practise  them  is  yet  forced  to  do  lip-service  to  them.  The 
historian's  point  of  view  is  here  quite  opposed  to  the  cynic's. 
If,  indeed,  we  were  to  look  at  the  conduct  of  modern  society  in 
some  relations,  and  in  those  relations  only,  we  should  be  apt  to 
say  that  it  cloaked  under  fine  words  actions  not  less  savage  than 
those  of  our  rude  and  barbarous  ancestors.  But  let  us  be  quite 
fair  to  ourselves,  and  admit  that  the  necessity  which  we  feel  for 
clothing  base  actions  in  the  language  of  high  principles  is,  after 
all,  a  proof  that  those  principles  have  begun  to  germinate  and 
take  root.  The  Assyrian  king  surveys  with  complacency  the 
number  of  prisoners  he  has  flayed,  impaled,  or  burnt,  and  takes 
it  all  as  a  proof  of  the  special  goodness  of  Asliur  to  him  and  his 
house.  We  could  hardly  do  the  thing  so  baldly.  The  white  man 
has  no  doubt  committed  great  barbarities  upon  the  savage,  but 
he  does  not  like  to  speak  of  them,  and  when  necessity  compels 
a  reference  he  has  always  something  to  say  of  manifest  destiny, 
the  advance  of  civilization,  and  the  duty  of  shouldering  the 
white  man's  burden,  in  which  he  pays  his  tribute  to  a  higher 
ethical  conscience,  It  may  be  said  that  the  amalgam  is  a  degree 
more  detestable,  and  that  Sargon  or  Assur-Natsir-Pal  had  at 
least  the  merit  of  frankness.  But  this  would  be  historically 
false.  There  was  not  the  smallest  merit  in  the  Assyrian  king's 
frankness,  because  he  saw  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of.  The  white 
man's  hypocrisy  is  more  revolting  in  itself,  but,  historically  con- 
sidered, is  a  hint  of  better  things.  The  ethical  conception  has 
a  ceit.iiu  value  in  itself,  and  the  fact  that  it  commands  even  a 


ETHICAL  EVOLUTION  25 

theoretical  allegiance  is  not  without  its  encouraging  side.  What 
men  already  know  to  be  true  will  "go  near  to  be  thought 
shortly." 

Our  subject,  then,  must  include  the  ideal  of  the  apostle  as  well 
as  the  working  rule  of  the  lawyer.  Its  lower  limit  is  the 
traditional  custom  followed  by  the  half-unconscious  savage. 
Its  upper  limit  is  the  philosopher's  reasoned  and  rounded  theory 
of  Ufe.  Between  these  extremes  all  the  judgments  that  men 
Jorm  about  conduct  fall  within  its  scope.  Only  we  must  bear 
in  mind  that  there  are  maxims  and  laws  which  state  what 
average  men  do,  and  expect  others  to  do,  and  there  are  maxims 
which  lay  down  what,  on  the  basis  of  some  ideal  doctrine,  they 
ought  to  do.  Both  alike  belong  to  our  subject,  but  of  any  given 
law  we  must  know  to  which  class  it  belongs,  and  so  far  as  this 
distinction  carries  us  —  but  only  so  far  —  we  are  dealing  not 
merely  with  ethical  conceptions  but  also  with  the  facts  of  human 
conduct. 

11.  So  far  for  the  limits  of  our  subject.  A  word  must  now 
be  said  as  to  methods.  The  nature  of  the  evidence  at  the  dis- 
posal of  the  historian  of  Ethics  is  fragmentary,  and  often  most 
unsatisfactory.  The  difficulty  is  at  its  height  in  relation  to 
primitive  and  savage  tribes.  Our  object  is  to  deal  with  ethical 
evolution,  and  to  do  this  in  fulness  we  should  naturally  desire 
to  have  a  continuous  ethical  history  of  mankind  throughout  the 
ages.  This,  of  course,  is  not  available,  and  the  anthropologist 
seeks  to  eke  out  the  gaps  in  his  knowledge  of  the  past  by  com- 
parison with  the  present,  the  assumption  being  that  in  the 
existing  savage  and  barbarous  tribes  we  have  survivals  of  the 
state  of  things  common  to  the  ancestors  of  civiHzed  man.  How 
far  that  assumption  holds  good  it  is  not  possible  to  say  with 
certainty.  It  is  well  to  remember  that  a  contemporary  savage 
has  been  the  subject  of  an  evolution  neither  longer  nor  shorter 
than  that  which  our  own  race  has  gone  through.  Although  the 
rate  of  change  has  been  presumably  slower,  it  is  not  certain  that 
there  has  been  no  change  at  all.  But  without  being  hyper- 
critical upon  this  point,  and  admitting  that  by  comparison 
between  what  we  know  of  the  contemporary  savage  and 
what  we  know  of  the  ancestors  of  civilization  we  get  the 
most  probable  view  attainable  of  the  earlier  epochs  of  man- 
kind, we  have  still  to  deplore  the  fact  that  our  information 
about  the  contemporary  savage  is  itself  in  a  fragmentary, 
obscure,  and  sometimes  contradictory  condition.  These  defects 
arise  in  part  from  difficulties  which  are  readily  intelligible  in 


26  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

obtaining  accurate  information  from  people  speaking  a  foreign 
language  as  to  modes  of  life  differing  greatly  from  any  of  those 
with  which  the  observer  is  familiar.  There  are,  however, 
certain  special  difficulties  in  the  use  of  the  material,  arising 
from  the  nature  of  ethical  evolution,  which  deserve  mention 
here. 

When  we  compare  very  different  stages  of  culture  we  are  apt 
to  find  a  bewildering  mixture  of  sameness  and  difference.  We 
find  some  tribe  like  the  Dyaks  of  Borneo  with  whom  the 
traveller  tells  us  it  is  a  delight  to  dwell,  so  courteous  are  they, 
so  hospitable,  so  full  of  brotherly  kindliness.  We  begin  to 
think  there  is  truth  in  the  idyllic  picture  of  savage  life  so  popular 
in  the  days  of  our  great-grandfathers,  until  we  stumble  upon 
the  fact  that  these  same  Dyaks  are  inveterate  head-hunters, 
and  make  a  practice  of  murdering  not  men  only,  but  women 
and  children  in  satisfaction  of  the  duty  of  blood-vengeance,  and 
to  obtain  the  magic  virtues  inherent  in  an  enemy's  skuU.^  At 
once  the  demon  picture  takes  the  place  of  the  angel,  and  the  savage 
world  is  seen  as  a  Gehenna  rather  than  a  Paradise.  We  forget 
the  inconsistencies  of  our  own  civilized  codes,  and  can  hardly 
beheve  that  men  capable  of  acts  so  fiendish  can  have  any  trace 
of  genuine  humanity  about  them.  The  fairer  view  about 
them  is  that  the  Dyaks  have  a  morality  of  their  own,  for  many 
purposes  as  good  as  ours,  but  limited  by  the  conditions  of  their 
life  and  coloured  by  their  ideas  of  the  supernatural.  To  be 
judged  fairly,  in  short,  both  their  virtues  and  their  vices  must 
be  taken  in  connection  with  their  life  as  a  whole.  What  are 
at  first  sight  the  same  ideas,  the  same  institutions,  are  in  reality 
of  different  value  and  meaning  in  different  surroundings,  and 
this  possible  source  of  error  must  always  be  allowed  for  in  drawing 
comparisons. 

In  particular  we  must  guard  against  misunderstandings  arising 
from  the  obscurity,  the  inarticulateness,  of  primitive  thought. 
Ideas  quite  familiar  to  us  are  often  uninteUigible  to  the  savage, 
and  for  the  words  which  we  use  to  express  them  no  precise 
equivalent  can  be  found  in  his  language,  but  it  is  a  mistake  to 
infer  at  once  that  nothing  corresponding  to  our  idea  exists  in 
the  savage  mind.  If  we  look  at  his  actions  we  may  find  reason 
to  think  differently.  He  acts  as  though  he  had  the  idea,  and 
yet,  it  may  be,  he  can  give  no  intelligible  account  of  it.  Hence 
at  one  moment  we  are  tempted  to  assert  that  he  holds  the  idea 
just  as  we  hold  it,  at  another  we  begin  to  deny  that  he  holds  it 
at  all.  Now  this  is  a  difficulty  which  we  find  all  along  the  line 
^  See  Ratzel,  History  of  Mankind,  i.  448. 


ETHICAL  EVOLUTION  27 

in  the  study  of  mental  evolution.  It  is  felt  even  more  acutely 
in  animal  psychology.  Here  we  are  constantly  tempted  to 
believe  that  an  animal  is  guided  by  clear  ideas,  while  the  evidence 
when  all  put  together  goes  to  prove  that  it  is  moving  towards 
an  end  without  clearly  and  fully  apprehending  what  that  end 
is.  And  when  we  have  once  grasped  the  possibility  of  this 
pseudo -purposive  action,  we  are  tempted  to  generalize  it  and 
deny  intelligent  purpose  in  all  cases.  As  in  animals,  so  at 
a  higher  remove  in  man,  the  primitive  mind  is  guided  by  feel- 
ings, by  impulses,  by  necessities,  which  it  can  but  vaguely 
understand  or  formulate.  Under  their  influence  it  builds  up 
customs  which  to  the  inquirer  seem  logically  to  imply  certain 
ideas  and  rules  of  conduct,  but  the  savage  himself,  when  tested, 
fails  to  understand  these  ideas.  He  practises  them,  yet  to  the 
bewilderment  of  the  observer,  he  knows  not  what  they  are. 

This  difference  between  rude  and  developed  thought  has  an 
important  application  to  Ethics.  For  example,  statements  are 
sometimes  met  with  that  this  or  that  tribe  is  destitute  of  any 
conception  of  the  distinction  between  right  and  wrong,  and  such 
statements  are  made  by  men  who  by  experience  should  be  well 
qualified  to  speak.  Allegations  of  this  kind  arise,  I  think,  from 
the  kind  of  confusion  just  mentioned.  It  may  be  difficult  or 
impossible  to  bring  a  savage  to  understand  the  meanmgs  of  the 
terms  which  we  use  to  express  right  or  wrong,  virtue  or  vice, 
good  or  evil.  Indeed,  if  we  take  highly  civilized  races  at 
different  periods  from  our  own,  we  find  a  certain  difficulty  in 
fitting  their  ethical  terms  to  ours.  There  is  no  word  in  Plato 
or  Aristotle  by  which  we  could  translate  the  English  term 
"  duty,"  for  instance,  but  it  would  be  an  extremely  unfair  and 
unwarranted  inference  that  the  Greeks  of  Plato's  or  Aristotle's 
time  were  destitute  of  the  sense  of  duty  in  practice.  Aristotle 
has  no  word  to  use  corresponding  to  our  term  "  rights  "  and 
the  Roman  "  jura,"  but  he  desiderates  such  a  word,  showing 
thereby  how  far  developing  thought  may  outrun  language. 
When  we  come  to  the  savage  we  can  well  understand  that  even 
the  simplest  ethical  conceptions  may  be  beyond  his  power  to 
grasp  as  ethical  conceptions,  but  it  does  not  follow  that  he  is 
without  a  practical  sense  of  right  and  wrong.  In  point  of  fact, 
although  very  few  generalizations  indeed  may  be  hazarded  in 
the  whole  of  our  subject,  we  were,  I  think,  justified  in  assuming 
above  that  no  society  can  maintain  itself,  unless  certain  lines  of 
conduct  are  laid  down  as  binding  by  prevailing  custom.  If 
men  are  to  live  together  at  all  they  must  know  what  they  may 
expect  and  what  is  expected  of  them  under  given  conditions. 


28  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

The  merest  game  cannot  be  carried  on  without  some  degree  of 
mutual  understa^nding,  still  less  the  more  complicated  business 
of  social  life.  We  shall  meet  a  little  later  with  certain  primitive 
tribes,  which  are  to  all  appearance  wholly  destitute  of  any 
regularly  established  means  of  maintaining  order  or  enforcing 
penalties.  But  even  in  these  tribes  there  is  nevertheless  a 
certain  body  of  custom,  and  something  corresponding  to  what 
we  should  call  "  public  opinion  "  tending  to  enforce  these  cus- 
toms. For  example,  the  sentiment  of  the  neighbours  or  of 
the  tribe  backs  a  man  who  avenges  a  murder  and  frowns  upon 
a  breach  of  the  marriage  laws.  It  is  probably  true,  as  a  general- 
ization, that  there  is  no  existing  tribe  without  some  belief  in 
unseen  powers,  but  it  is,  I  think,  a  more  certain  generalization 
that  there  is  no  existing  tribe  without  rules  of  conduct  backed 
by  the  general  approval  of  the  community. 

We  may,  I  think,  go  a  step  further,  and  say  that,  generally 
speaking,  the  effect  of  these  rules  is  to  extend  a  certain  measure 
of  protection  to  what  we  ourselves  regard  as  the  fundamental 
rights  both  of  person  and  property,  to  encourage  mutual  aid 
and  maintain  something  of  a  social  life.  In  these  broad  outlines 
ethical  principles  do  not  greatly  vary.  Indeed,  the  comparative 
study  of  Ethics,  which  is  apt  in  its  earlier  stages  to  impress  the 
student  with  a  bewildering  sense  of  the  diversity  of  moral  judg- 
ments, ends  rather  by  impressing  him  with  a  more  fundamental 
and  far-reaching  uniformity.  Through  the  greatest  extent  of 
time  and  space  over  which  we  have  records,  we  find  a  recurrence 
of  the  common  features  of  ordinary  morality  which,  to  my 
mind  at  least,  is  not  less  impressive  than  the  variations  which 
also  appear.  Some  of  the  earliest  funeral  inscriptions  in  exist- 
ence might  well  bear  comparison  with  those  eulogies  which 
were  popular  a  generation  or  two  ago  among  ourselves.  Thus 
upon  some  of  the  Memphite  tombs  of  the  earliest  Egyptian 
djaiasties,  we  find  it  recorded  that  the  deceased  had  been  "  the 
friend  of  his  father,  beloved  of  his  mother,  sweet  to  those  who 
lived  with  him,  gracious  to  his  brethren,  loved  of  his  servants, 
and  that  he  had  never  sought  wrongful  quarrel  with  any  man ; 
briefly,  that  he  spoke  and  did  that  Avhich  was  right  here  below." 
Let  us  hope  that  it  was  so.  At  any  rate  the  pious  record  of  the 
dead  man's  relations  testifies  to  the  virtues  which  they  considered 
it  appropriate  to  mention. 

Again,  if  from  remote  but  civilized  antiquity  we  pass  to 
contemporary  savage  races,  we  find  observers  praising,  sometimes, 
no  doubt,  with  undue  partiality,  those  fundamental  qualities 
v/ithout  which  society  hardly  holds  together.     Of  the  North 


ETHICAL  EVOLUTION  29 

American  Indians,  for  example,  so  experienced  an  observer  as 
Catlin  was  able  to  write,  "  It  would  be  untrue,  and  doing  an 
injustice  to  the  Indians,  to  say  they  were  in  the  least  behind 
us  in  conjugal,  in  filial,  or  in  paternal  affection."  ^  Other  writers 
in  this  case  no  doubt  give  less  favourable  judgments,  and  we 
must  allow  something  for  individual  bias,  but  when  all  is  said 
and  done,  we  can  hardly  deny  to  any  race  of  men  or  any  period 
of  time  the  possession  of  the  primary  characteristics  out  of 
which  the  most  advanced  moral  code  is  constructed.  Nor  is 
primitive  morality  merely  negative  morality.  Primitive  man 
is  free  in  giving,  ready  to  share  the  little  he  has  with  his  friend 
and  neighbour,  while  of  hospitahty  he  makes  a  superstition. 
The  duty  of  charity  in  the  sense  of  sharing  one's  goods  with 
others  is  in  no  sense  pre-eminently  a  modern  or  a  civilized 
virtue. 

Yet  with  this  identity  there  is  a  far-reaching  difference  not 
only  in  the  actual  rules  of  conduct,  but  in  the  way  in  which 
those  rules  are  understood  and  appUed,  their  mental  framework, 
the  basis  of  thought  on  which  they  repose.  We  have  spoken  of 
the  protection  given  in  primitive  custom  to  rights  of  person  and 
property.  But  we  must  understand  that  in  primitive  thought 
these  are  not  regarded  as  "  rights  "  in  our  sense  of  the  term. 
They  do  not  hold  unconditionally,  nor  is  it  necessarily  "  wrong  " 
to  violate  them.  But  there  are  conditions,  to  our  thinking 
perhaps  quite  irrelevant  conditions,  under  Avhich  they  are 
generally  respected,  and  the  neighbours  will  sympathize  with, 
and  perhaps  actively  support,  an  injured  man  who  is  avenging 
their  violation.  Take,  as  an  illustration,  the  case  of  property. 
In  many  peoples  it  is  honourable  to  steal,  but  not  honourable 
to  steal  from  a  guest.  We  all  know  the  story  of  "  the  divine 
Autolycus  "  in  Homer,  who  excelled  all  men  Jn  thieving  and 
false  swearing,  an  excellence  which,  as  the  bard  is  careful  to 
relate,  was  conferred  upon  him  by  the  special  grace  of  Hermes. 
But  I  have  no  doubt  that  Autolycus'  thieving  and  false  swearing 
were  all  in  accordance  with  rule.  Probably  he  observed  the 
oath  when  duly  taken,  and  cheated  under  certain  prescribed 
forms  which  would  avert  the  vengeance  of  the  gods,  and  it  was 
no  doubt  his  special  excellence  that  he  knew  those  forms  to 
a  nicety.  He  was  evidently  a  man  in  good  repute,  and  was 
doubtless  honourable  to  those  to  whom  he  considered  himself 
to  owe  a  duty.  There  are  tribes  to  this  day  in  which  the  robbing 
of  a  guest  is  prohibited  as  long  as  he  remains  in  the  house,  but 
if,  after  speeding  him  upon  his  journey,  you  can  catch   him 

1  Catlin,  i.  121. 


30  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

up  in  the  field,  his  belongings  are  lawfully  at  your  disposal. 
These  instances  may  serve  to  illustrate  some  of  the  difficulties 
which  confront  the  student  of  comparative  Ethics.  He  meets 
with  the  familiar  ideas  of  civilized  morality  in  early  ethics, 
but  he  recognizes  them  with  difficulty;  they  are  the  same, 
yet  not  the  same.  The  broad  explanation  is  that  he  is  deahng 
with  the  unfolding  of  a  germ,  and  not  with  an  accretion  of  new 
elements. 

If,  that  is  to  say,  there  is  ethical  progress  (and  whether  there 
is  such  is,  after  all,  our  main  question),  it  is  to  be  found,  not  in 
the  development  of  new  instincts  or  impulses  of  mankind  or  in 
the  disappearance  of  instincts  that  are  old  and  bad,  but  rather 
in  the  rationalization  of  the  moral  code  which,  as  society  ad- 
vances, becomes  more  clearly  thought  out  and  more  consistently 
and  comprehensively  applied.  For  as  mental  evolution  advances, 
the  spiritual  consciousness  deepens,  and  the  ethical  order  is 
purged  of  inconsistencies  and  extended  in  scope.  The  deity, 
who  is  at  first  much  less  than  a  man,  becomes  progressively 
human  and  then,  in  the  true  sense  of  the  word,  superhuman. 
Bhnd  adherence  to  custom  is  modified  by  an  inteUigent  per- 
ception of  the  welfare  of  society,  and  moral  obhgation  is  set 
upon  a  rational  basis.  These  changes  re-act  upon  the  actual 
contents  of  the  moral  law  itself,  what  is  just  and  good  in  custom 
being  sifted  out  from  what  is  indifferent  or  bad,  and  the  purified 
moral  code  re-acts  in  turn  on  the  legislation  by  which  more 
advanced  societies  re-model  their  structure.  The  psychological 
equipment  of  human  beings  on  the  one  side  and  the  actual 
needs  of  social  life  on  the  other  are  the  underlying  factors 
determining  rules  of  conduct  from  the  lowest  stage  upwards, 
but  it  is  only  at  the  highest  grade  of  refiection  that  their  opera- 
tion enters  fully  into  consciousness  so  that  the  mind  can  under- 
stand the  grounds  and  value  of  the  laws  which  it  has  itself 
laid  down.  The  true  meaning  of  ethical  obligations — their 
bearing  on  human  purposes,  their  function  in  social  life — only 
emerges  by  slow  degrees.  The  on-looker,  investigating  a  primi- 
tive custom,  can  see  that  moral  elements  have  helped  to  build 
it  up,  so  that  it  embodies  something  of  moral  truth.  Yet 
these  elements  of  moral  truth  were  perhaps  never  present  to 
the  minds  of  those  who  built  it.  Instead  thereof  we  are  likely 
to  find  some  obscure  reference  to  magic  or  to  the  world  of  spirits. 
The  custom  which  we  can  see,  perhaps,  to  be  excellently  devised 
in  the  interests  of  social  order  or  for  the  promotion  of  mutual 
aid  is  by  those  who  practise  it  based  on  some  taboo,  or  preserved 
from  violation  from  fear  of  the  resentment  of  somebody's  ghost. 


ETHICAL  EVOLUTION  31 

The  ghost  or  the  taboo  in  that  case  is  in  a  sense  the  form  which 
moral  obligation  takes  at  a  certain  stage.  It  supplies  the 
savage  with  a  theory  of  the  moral  basis,  an  explanation  of  cus- 
tom and  a  sanction.  How  far  it  really  determines  custom,  or 
how  far  it  arises  as  it  were  ex  j^ost  facto  to  justify  modes  of  con- 
duct to  which  the  savage  feels  himself  impelled  without  know- 
ing why,  are  questions  of  extreme  intricacy,  and  the  answer 
would  probably  be  different  in  different  cases.  At  this  stage 
it  may  suffice  to  remark  that  in  order  to  understand  ethical 
development,  we  must  not  only  know  what  men  are  bidden  to 
do  by  law  and  custom  at  each  stage,  but  also  the  rea,sons  which 
they  themselves  assign  for  doing  it.  We  must  investigate  the 
basis  as  well  as  the  standard  of  morals.  It  will  be  convenient 
to  take  the  standard  first,  to  trace  the  actual  rules  of  conduct 
laid  down  by  different  peoples  at  different  stages  of  culture, 
and  proceed  from  the  practice  to  the  theories  of  conduct.  When 
both  aspects  of  development  are  before  us,  we  may  hope  to  form 
a  just  if  an  imperfect  conception  of  ethical  evolution. 

12.  If  our  data  are  to  throw  any  light  on  this  evolution,  it 
must  be  through  the  adoption  of  some  methods  of  classification 
distinguishing  the  more  from  the  less  undeveloped  ethical 
conceptions.  But  here  we  touch  our  greatest  difficulty.  Moral 
progress  (to  assume  provisionally  that  it  is  a  reality)  does  not 
proceed  continuously  in  a  straight  line.  It  does  not  affect  all 
branches  of  the  moral  law  simultaneously,  nor  does  it  advance 
step  by  step  with  the  growth  of  civilization.  Even  if  it  be 
true — and  it  has  yet  to  be  proved — that  the  highest  civilization 
possesses  the  highest  ethical  code,  it  is  certainly  not  true  of 
every  intervening  stage  in  the  growth  of  civilization  that  it 
witnesses  a  corresponding  moral  advance.  On  the  contra-ry, 
as  has  been  already  hinted,  the  very  conditions  of  the  develop- 
ment of  society  have  in  some  cases  been  hostile  to  moral  develop- 
ment for  the  time  being.  An  advance  in  the  arts  of  life  may 
well  work  retrogression  in  the  ethical  sphere.  Were  we  to  take 
some  of  the  tests  which  are  often  put  forward  as  the  special 
characteristics  of  civilized  morality,  we  should  be  surprised  to 
find  how  often  a  ruder  society  comes  well  out  of  the  comparison 
when  measured  against  one  that  is  more  advanced.  Take,  for 
example,  the  position  of  women.  We  are  often  told  that  this 
is  a  true  test  of  civilized  moraHty,  yet  in  point  of  fact  it  would 
be  by  no  means  true  to  allege  that  the  status  of  woman  varies 
in  all  cases  directly  as  the  civilization  of  the  society  to  which 
she  belongs.     In  the  English  law  of  Blackstone's  day,  for  ez- 


32  MORALS  1^   EVOLUTION 

ample,  a  married  woman  can  scarcely  be  said  to  have  had  a 
legal  personality,  so  great  is  the  number  of  her  disquahfications 
as  to  the  holding  of  property,  as  to  capacity  to  give  evidence, 
as  to  the  custody  of  her  children,  even  as  to  her  legal  responsi- 
bility for  crimes;  and  many  of  these  disqualifications  lasted 
on  down  to  the  present  generation.  If  we  turn  to  the  oldest 
code  of  laws  in  the  world,  the  recently-discovered  laws  of  Ham- 
murabi, we  shall  find  that  few  of  these  disqualifications  applied 
to  married  women  in  Babylonia  some  2000  years  before  Christ ; 
yet  it  would  be  unfair  to  infer  that  the  civilization  of  England 
in  the  eighteenth  and  nineteenth  centuries  was  on  the  whole 
inferior  to  that  of  Ba^bylonia  in  the  third  millennium  before 
Christ.  Among  many  tribes  of  the  lowest  savagery,  the  position 
of  women  is  relatively  good,  while  there  are  many  more  advanced 
peoples  in  which  their  position  is  little  better  than  that  of  slaves. 
Slavery  itself,  the  most  direct  denial  of  those  elementary  rights 
which  form  the  central  point  of  civilized  ethics,  is  an  institution 
whi'.b  scarcely  begins  to  flourish  except  with  the  rudiments  of 
civiliz.\tion.  In  the  simplest  groups  even  distinctions  of  rank 
vanish,  and  there  is  often  no  authority  beyond  the  personal 
influence  of  older  and  abler  men.  With  civilization  the  scale  of 
human  action  grows,  and  there  arise  inequalities  which  often  place 
entire  classes  or  populations  at  the  mercy  of  others,  and  this 
mercy  is  not  always  found.  Hence  civilization  knows  of  oppres- 
sions and  even  horrors  from  which  primaeval  life  is  relatively 
free.^ 

The  study  of  moral  advancement,  therefore,  is  no  tracing  out 
of  a  single  straight  line,  but  rather  the  following  of  a  very  wind- 
ing curve.  But  even  that  does  not  express  the  full  difficulty 
for  the  student,  for  it  is  no  simple  or  single  curve  that  we  have 
to  follow.  We  have  not  to  deal  with  one  development  only, 
but  with  many;  nor  with  a  uniform  evolution,  but  with  a 
luxuriant  diversity;  not  even  with  evolution  alone,  but  with 
dissolution  and  decay  as  well. 

How,  then,  are  we  to  arrange  our  data  ?     In  the  first  place,  we 

1  In  earlier  editions  I  accepted  the  judgment  of  Mr.  E.  J.  Payne  {History 
of  the  New  World  called  America,  ii.  344)  :  "  We  follow  with  a  sense  of 
shame  and  horror  man's  advance  through  the  middle  and  higher  barbarism 
to  the  threshold  of  civilization,  looking  back  almost  with  regret  to  the 
period  of  savagery  when  human  progress  exhibited  a  comparatively  mild 
and  beneficent  aspect."  But  on  a  fuller  review  of  the  facts  I  think  this 
an  exaggeration.  Though  some  of  the  simplest  peoples,  like  the  Punans 
or  the  Veddas,  are  of  mild  and  gentle  type,  there  are  many  others  in  whom 
the  worst  evils  are  conspicvious,  onlj^,  for  reasons  pointed  out  in  the  text, 
on  a  smaller  scale,  and  the  more  ordered  life  of  advancing  civilization  has 
its  compensating  points,  even  for  the  oppressed. 


ETHICAL  EVOLUTION  33 

must  try  to  analyze  and  classify  the  conceptions  or  institutions 
which  we  find.  For  example,  we  can  take  the  multitudinous 
forms  of  the  marriage  tie  and  we  can  show  that  there  are  certain 
types  about  which  those  various  forms  group  themselves,  as 
though  radiating  from  so  many  distinct  centres.  And  so  with 
other  institutions.  There  are  distinct  types  by  describing  which 
we  can  mark  out  the  main  lines  of  classification.  Actual  insti- 
tutions conform  to  these  types  in  varying  degree,  and  the 
gradations,  when  completely  filled  in,  form  a  chain  connecting 
one  type  with  another.  This  sort  of  classification  is  the  first 
step. 

But  how  are  we  to  proceed  from  morphology  to  development, 
from  the  forms  which  we  find  to  the  history  and  causes  of  their 
growth  and  decay  ?  Ethical  evolution  is  not  self-dependent  but 
is  intertwined  with  the  entire  movement  of  society.  To  under- 
stand it  we  must  examine  its  correlation  with  other  elements  of 
the  social  structure,  but  it  may  as  well  be  said  at  the  outset  that 
the  cases  in  which  we  can  say  universally  that  a  certain  institu- 
tion belongs  to  a  certain  stage  of  social  culture  are  very  rare. 
On  the  other  hand,  we  shall  find  that  certain  types  of  institutions 
do  predominate  at  successive  stages,  while  above  and  below  that 
stage  they  grow  rarer  till  they  finally  disappear.  What  is  meant 
will  perhaps  be  best  explained  by  an  example.  The  permission 
of  polygamy  is  a  general  characteristic  of  races  which  fall  below 
the  standard  of  European  civilization.  In  such  races  the  custom 
that  allows  it  is  predommant  over  the  custom  which  forbids  it. 
Yet  of  such  races  there  are  many  in  which  polygamy  is  rare.  There 
are  some  in  which  it  is  replaced  by  polyandry.  There  are  not  a  few 
which  are  monogamous.  There  are  some,  and  these  some  of  the 
lowest,  in  which  monogamy  is  as  strict  and  binding  as  in  Catholic 
Europe.  Nevertheless  throughout  savagery,  barbarism  and 
semi-civilization,  the  permission  of  polygamy  is  the  ordinary 
rule,  while  in  the  higher  civilization  monogamy  is  the  rule.  In 
this  limited  and  restricted  sense  it  is  true,  after  all  exceptions 
are  allowed  for,  to  say  that  the  tendency  of  the  lower  culture  is 
to  allow,  and  of  the  higher  to  prohibit,  the  pluraHty  of  wives. 
We  may  carry  the  matter  a  step  further  and  say  that  polygamy 
is  the  special  characteristic  of  peoples  above  the  lowest  and 
below  the  highest  levels  of  civilization,  for  though  it  occurs 
among  lower  savages  it  does  not  reach  so  extreme  a  development. 
Now  this  predominance  of  given  types  of  institutions  at  given 
levels  of  general  culture  has  its  significance.  The  forces  econo- 
mic, ethical,  social,  intellectual,  which  tend  to  shape  any  in- 
stitution are  multitudinous.     Some  pull  in  one  direction,  others 

D 


34  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

the  contrary  way.  In  such  cases  we  seldom  obtain  generaliza- 
tions which  hold  without  exception.  The  matter  is  like  any 
other  which  comes  under  the  general  Law  of  Probabilities. 
There  are  typical  cases  representing  the  normal  balance  of  forces, 
and  round  these  as  a  centre  radiate  deviating  cases  where  the 
ever  varjdng  forces  have  gathered  strength  in  one  direction  or 
another.  Further,  if  there  is  any  influence  at  work  which  alters 
the  distribution  of  forces,  there  may  be  several  such  centres 
corresponding  to  different  degrees  in  the  working  out  of  that 
influence.  This  is  what  we  shall  find  in  ethical  institutions.  At 
successive  stages  of  general  culture  certain  types  predominate 
without  being  universal ;  that  is  to  say,  the  forces  making  for  a 
given  type  are  apparently  favoured  by  the  general  conditions  of 
one  stage  and  depressed  by  those  of  another. 

But  to  study  correlation  effectively  we  need  something  more 
definite  than  the  conception  of  general  culture,  which,  indeed, 
strictly  speaking,  includes  ethical  development  itself.  We  must 
find  some  element,  not  in  itself  ethical,  occupying  a  leading  place 
In  social  development,  and  enabling  us  by  its  changes  to  measure 
the  distance  which  any  given  society  has  travelled  from  the 
primitive  condition  of  man.  To  this  end  the  collective  stock 
of  knowledge,  the  equipment  of  method  and  governing  con- 
ceptions which  constitute  the  working  intellectual  capital  of 
any  community  will  serve  us  best.  Intellectual  development  in 
this  form  is  the  most  conspicuous  and  most  measurable  feature 
of  human  evolution.  For  if  the  human  race  did  in  fact  evolve 
from  a  lower  type,  it  must  have  started  at  a  zero  point  in  this 
scale,  and  in  the  anthropological  record  we  have  on  this  side 
peoples  whose  equipment,  though  certainly  not  primitive,  is 
exceedingly  crude  in  shape  and  slender  in  amount,  while  from 
these  upwards  we  have  a  rich  development  including  every 
possible  gradation.  On  this  side  again,  development  is  un- 
ambiguous in  meaning,  definite  in  direction,  and  roughly  measur- 
able in  degree.  It  is  always  towards  fuller,  more  accurate,  and 
more  systematic  knowledge  and  understanding  of  the  conditions 
affecting  human  life  and  its  environment.  It  is  measurable  for 
all  races  by  the  control  which  it  renders  possible  over  these 
conditions,^  and  in  its  higher  stages,  in  addition,  by  the  written 
record  of  intellectual  activity.  It  is  not,  indeed,  continuous,  for 
it  has  in  historical  times  suffered  periods  of  arrest  and  decay, 
but  it  is  more  nearly  continuous  than  any  other  known  movement 
of  humanity,  and  it  tends  to  more  complete  continuity  and 

*  With  certain  limitations,  which  will  be  considered  in  their  place  (see 
below,  chap.  ii.  pp.  39  and  41). 


ETHICAL  EVOLUTION  35 

greater  speed.  It  is,  in  fact,  a  self-accelerating  function.  Now 
does  this  intellectual  enlargement  involve,  upon  the  whole,  a 
profounder  etliical  understanding,  a  larger  scope  of  the  moral 
will,  a  firmer  grip  on  the  purpose  of  life  ?  If  we  could  answer 
this  question,  we  should  have  a  key,  not  only  to  the  historic 
movement  of  ethical  conceptions  but  to  the  future  evolution  of 
the  race,  for  man  grows,  and  to  all  appearance  will  grow,  more 
and  more  rapidly  in  power,  but  whether  he  will  use  that  power  for 
noble  ends  or,  child-like,  make  of  it  a  gigantic  and  dangerous 
toy,  is  unhappily  not  so  certain. 

The  relation  between  intellectual  and  moral  advance  is  cer- 
tainly not  simple  or  direct.  In  the  first  place,  as  already  hinted, 
advance  in  industrial  arts  tends  to  breed  social  inequality,  to 
complicate  the  social  structure,  and  set  problems  which,  even 
with  the  best  will,  the  wisdom  of  man  finds  hard  to  solve.  In  the 
second  place,  the  mere  diversion  of  energy  and  interest  to  one 
side  of  human  endeavour  draws  on  the  supply  available  for 
another.  When  the  best  minds  of  antiquity  were  concentrated 
on  the  rehgious  problem,  knowledge  and  the  arts  fell  into  decay, 
and  when  the  will  and  intellect  revolted,  they  destroyed  much 
that  they  are  still  seeking  to  re-build.  We  cannot  think  without 
rebelUng,  and  in  rebelling  it  is  easier  to  undo  than  to  re-make. 
Nevertheless,  it  is  possible  that  the  direction  and  the  goal  of  the 
practical  and  theoretical  reason  are  ultimately  the  same,  and  if 
so,  though  their  paths  often  cross  and  their  movements  collide, 
we  may  find  running  through  many  strange  kinks  and  quirks  of 
reaction  a  certain  broad  parallelism  of  advance.  To  examine 
into  these  issues,  we  have  to  add  to  our  classification  of  moral 
institutions  and  ideas,  a  classification  of  societies.  This  classi- 
fication will  yield  us  not  a  simple  order  in  time,  for  intellectual 
advance  is  not  uniform  or  continuous,  and  in  the  world  of  to- 
day all  types  except  the  very  lowest  are  still  represented,  but 
an  order  of  development.  By  development  here  we  mean  simply 
advance  in  the  intellectual  equipment  of  knowledge  and  method, 
and  in  the  control  of  the  conditions  of  life  depending  thereon; 
and  civilizations  most  advanced  in  this  respect  we  shall  call  higher 
civifizations.  The  development  tends  to  correspond  to  the  time 
order,  but  the  relation  is  not  exact,  for  development  takes  time 
but  time  does  not  always  bring  development.  Upon  the  whole, 
however,  the  advance  becomes  more  certain  as  it  proceeds,  and 
the  time  order  and  development  order  on  this  side  of  human  life 
are  a  converging  series. 

Now  our  specific  problem  will  be  first  to  describe  the  types  of 
ethical  order  and  then  to  inquire  into  their  correlation  with  this 


36  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

development.  Behind  these  there  is  a  third  question.  Suppose 
that  we  find  a  distinctive  ethics  of  the  higher  civihzations, 
we  have  yet  to  ask  whether  this  is  the  higher  ethics.  This  is  a 
question  partly  of  fact  but  also  partly  of  value,  for,  ethically, 
what  is  higher  or  lower  ?  We  are  prone  to  take  our  own  ethics 
as  the  highest,  and  so  are  provided  with  a  very  short  and  simple 
answer  to  the  question,  for  in  realized  articulate  knowledge,  and 
consequently  in  control  of  material  conditions,  our  civilization 
is  the  highest  known,  and  its  ethics  are  our  own,  and  what  more 
would  you  ?  But  in  reality  our  own  ethics  are  riddled  with 
inconsistencies,  pretences,  and  absurdities,  and  a  man  who  would 
judge  whether  they  are  on  the  balance  better  or  worse  than  any 
other,  must  have  an  objective  standard  to  guide  him — that  is, 
he  must  have  a  moral  philosophy.  It  is  not  my  purpose  here  to 
add  a  system  of  moral  philosophy  to  a  treatise  sufficiently  lengthy 
on  the  history  of  ethics,  but  I  would  emphasize  at  this  point 
that  the  question  of  Values  is  quite  distinct  from  the  question 
of  fact — the  history  of  ethics  quite  distinct  from  its  philosophy. 
Nevertheless,  the  real  meaning  of  the  history  can  only  be  appre- 
hended when  we  have  determined  the  question  of  value;  and, 
in  point  of  fact,  the  position  which  people  assign  to  the  more 
distinctive  ethical  tendencies  of  our  own  period  must  differ 
radically  according  to  the  value  which  they  put  on  this  or  that 
side  of  human  conduct  and  social  relations.  I  shall  therefore  en- 
deavour in  its  place  to  indicate  in  briefest  outline  the  principles 
on  which  I  believe  the  ultimate  judgment  of  value — that  is,  the 
measure  of  right  and  wrong — to  depend,  and  I  shall  apply  this 
standard  in  estimating  the  actual  moral  codes  of  mankind.  It 
is  fair  to  remark,  however,  that  it  is  also  quite  useful  to  apply 
our  ordinary  civihzed  codes  to  the  judgment  of  simpler  peoples, 
for  one  of  our  questions  is  how  codes  actually  change,  and  in 
relation  to  this  question  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  any 
other  code  with  that  which,  whether  it  be  better  or  worse,  belongs 
to  the  most  developed  society,  is  material  to  the  appreciation  of 
the  course  of  ethical  movement. 

We  have,  then,  before  us  three  problems.  We  have  first  to 
classify  customs  and  ideas  relating  to  conduct.  Next,  having 
classified  societies  in  accordance  with  their  intellectual  develop- 
ment in  the  sense  explained,  we  have  to  inquire  into  the  relation 
between  ethical  thought  and  practice  and  this  classification — 
that  is,  to  discover  what  sort  of  ethical  order  belongs  to  the  less 
and  what  to  the  more  advanced  societies.  Lastly,  we  have  to 
examine  the  moral  types  thus  distinguished  in  the  fight  of  a 
reasoned  standard  of  value,  in  order  to  determine  whether  the 


ETHICAL  EVOLUTION  37 

movement  is  towards  the  higher  or  the  lower.  No  theory  of 
moral  development  is  complete  which  does  not  deal  with  all  these 
as  distinct  but  related  questions.  The  limits  of  a  single  treatise, 
of  course,  imply  that  none  of  the  three  can  here  be  set  forth  with 
the  fulness  which  it  deserves.  I  have,  in  fact,  confined  myself  to 
those  aspects  of  ethical  development  which  appear  most  essentia], 
and  on  the  philosophical  side  to  such  indications  of  a  view  as  will 
enable  the  reader  to  form  a  fair  judgment  of  the  method. 


CHAPTER  II 

TYPES    OF   SOCIETY 

1.  The  problem  of  classifying  peoples  in  accordance  with  their 
intellectual  equipment  falls  into  two  quite  distinct  parts.  In 
the  first  place,  we  have  the  multitude  of  "  uncivilized  "  peoples 
known  slightly  from  ancient  authors  but  mainly  from  contem- 
porary or  comparatively  recent  research.  These  peoples  do 
not  speak  for  themselves.  They  have  no  trustworthy  recorded 
history  because  they  have  no  writing,  and  for  the  same  reason 
they  have  no  documentary  literature,  science,  theology,  or  philo- 
sophy. Nor  do  they  even  communicate  their  ideas  orally  to 
the  white  man  with  ease  or  accuracy.  Our  knowledge  of  them 
is,  and  must  be  in  the  main,  an  intellectual  construction  of 
our  own.  They  are  very  numerous  and  present  a  bewildering 
variety  of  types  curiously  intermingled,  marked  differences 
being  often  presented  by  neighbouring  peoples  and  baffling 
attempts  at  generalization.  The  "  civilized  "  peoples,  on  the 
other  hand,  are,  for  purposes  of  investigation,  the  peoples  who 
could  write  and  therefore  have  a  history.  Often  the  history  is 
long  enough  and  full  enough  to  enable  us  to  trace  outlines  of  their 
development  in  the  actual  record,  instead  of  merely  inferring  it 
by  the  aid  of  comparisons  and  probabilities.  Their  individuahty, 
therefore,  is  more  marked,  at  least  for  us,  than  that  of  the  simpler 
peoples,  and  the  centres  of  civilization  are  few  in  number  and 
can  be  referred  to  by  name.  Thus,  to  deal  with  the  uncivilized 
peoples  we  need  a  classification  which  will  enable  us  to  handle 
them  in  groups;  to  deal  with  civilized  peoples  one  that  will 
rather  be  adapted  to  the  distinction  of  phases  in  growth  which  a 
single  people  may  pass  through  within  the  limits  of  our  record. 

For  the  classification  of  the  simpler  peoples  we  require  external 
marks  which  are  easily  verifiable,  so  that  even  superficial  reports 
of  them  are  not  likely  to  mislead  us.  We  can  best  find  these 
in  the  nature  and  degree  of  the  control  over  the  environment 
evidenced  by  the  industrial  arts.  These  will  not,  indeed,  afford 
a  complete  measure,  for  even  among  the  simplest  peoples  some 
may  have  put  more  of  their  thought  into  religion  or  mythology, 
just  as  some  have  undoubtedly  combined  high  artistic  sensibility 

3S 


TYPES  OF  SOCIETY  39 

with  great  poverty  in  practical  resources.  But  in  the  absence 
of  writing  it  must  be  exceedingly  difficult  for  any  body  of  positive 
knowledge  to  bo  handed  on,  and  without  tradition  no  body  of 
knowledge  can  grow,  except  in  the  form  of  traditional  instruction 
in  practical  arts/  and  intellectual  equipment  in  the  sense  defined 
in  the  last  chapter  was  confined  to  the  body  of  positive  knowledge 
and  the  methods  and  governing  conceptions  by  which  it  is 
organized,  refined  and  applied.  Still,  the  measure  is  but  rough, 
and  in  applying  it  further  allowances  mvist  be  made.  One  people 
is  confined  to  an  arid  region  which  has  debarred  it  from  the 
beginnings  of  agriculture,  but  it  may  have  made  a  struggle  with 
an  untoward  environment  which  should  place  it  above  another 
people  more  favourably  situated  and  so,  in  externals,  better 
equipped.  Another  people,  again,  may  have  acquired  from 
neighbours  arts  which  they  could  not  invent,  and  on  a  surface 
view  we  may  rate  them  too  highly.  These  and  similar  considera- 
tions  have  to  be  kept  in  mind  in  placing  any  people,  and  any 
classification  effected  at  present  must  only  be  regarded  as  a  first 
approximation. 

The  simplest  method  of  approaching  a  classification  is  to 
begin  with  the  method  of  obtaining  food,  and  to  correct  and 
supplement  it  by  attention  to  dwellings,  clothing,  implements, 
weapons,  industry,  trade  and  commerce. ^  With  regard  to  food- 
getting  we  have,  first,  the  Hunters  and  Gatherers — people  who 
live  on  the  raw  products  of  the  earth,  largely,  especially  in  the 
lowest  stage,  by  gathering  fruits,  berries,  roots  or  acorns,  but  also, 
particularly  in  a  slightly  higher  stage,  by  hunting  and  trapping 
wild  animals,  and  by  fishing.  There  is  no  agriculture,  and  in 
many  cases  no  domestic  animal  but  the  dog,  and  in  some  cases — 
generally  owing  to  contact  with  higher  civiUzation — the  horse, 
or,  again,  the  reindeer.  Peoples  at  this  stage  may  be  called 
Hunters,  Fishers  and  Gatherers,  or  as  a  simple  though  not 
always  quite  appropriate  title.  Hunters.  We  have  divided  them 
into  (a)  Lower  Hunters,  who  in  general  live  largely  by  gathering, 
have  no  substantial  dwellings,  no  spinning,  weaving  or  pottery, 
and  no  domestic  animals  but  the  dog ;  and  (6)  Higher  Hunters, 
who  live  more  by  hunting  proper,  or  by  fishing,  and  have  some, 

*  The  fino  arts  are  not  taken  into  account  in  this  classification.  It  is 
clear  that,  though  they  certainly  imply  some  command  over  matter  and 
a  body  of  traditional  knowledge  and  skill,  they  depend  on  other  and  quite 
different  factors  from  those  which  govern  intellectual  development  in 
general. 

*  The  method  used  is  explained  and  the  results  given  in  detail  in 
"  Institutions  of  the  Simpler  Peoples,"  chap,  i,  by  (^  C.  Wheeler, 
M.  Ginsberg,  and  the  present  writer. 


40  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

at  least,  of  the  arts  mentioned.  The  highest  of  the  class  are  the 
fishing  peoples  of  the  West  Coast  of  America,  who,  in  general 
culture,  almost  deserve  to  be  in  a  class  by  themselves,  along, 
perhaps,  with  one  or  two  other  tribes  who  have  made  substantial 
advances  in  general  culture  without  altering  their  method  of 
obtaining  food. 

Agriculture,  in  its  lowest  stage,  is  combined  with  hunting  and 
gathering.  It  accounts  at  first  for  but  a  fraction  of  the  food 
supply  and  does  not  involve  the  abandonment  of  nomadic  habits, 
because  the  ground  is  only  tilled  while  its  first  fertility  lasts, 
and  after  one  or  two  crops  are  taken  a  new  clearing  is  made  for 
which,  very  possibly,  a  new  encampment  is  required.  From  this 
we  distinguish  a  second  stage  of  agriculture,  when  it  has  become 
the  regular  and  main  source  of  supply,  and  from  this  again  a 
third  stage  where,  in  addition  to  agriculture,  other  arts  and 
industries  are  developed  or  trade  begins  to  play  a  regular  part 
in  the  supply  of  necessaries.  Where  we  find  the  larger  cattle 
kept,  and  oxen  used  in  farming,  we  refer  a  people  to  this  stage, 
and  generally,  in  assigning  a  people  to  any  one  of  these  stages, 
we  should  take  its  dwellings,  its  handicrafts,  and  its  commer- 
cial development  into  account  as  well  as  the  condition  of  its 
agriculture  alone. 

Pasture  may  be  regarded  partly  as  an  alternative,  partly  as 
a  supplement  to  agriculture.  We  distinguish  a  lower  pastoral 
stage  in  which  there  is  no  agriculture,  and  a  higher  one  in  which 
agriculture  generally  exists,  though  in  a  subordinate  place,  and 
trade  and  the  industrial  arts  are  well  developed.  This  stage  may 
fairly  be  set  on  a  level  with  the  highest  agricultural  stage. 

A  settled  agricultural  people,  practising  irrigation,  using  the 
plough,  having  draught  oxen  and  other  cattle,  acquainted  with 
iron  or  bronze,  copper,  and  gold,  having  substantial  houses  of 
timber  or  sun-dried  brick,  spinning  and  weaving  textiles,  and 
making  their  own  pottery,  is  in  material  culture  sufficiently 
equipped  for  a  simple  civilization,  and  at  the  top  of  our  highest 
classes  would  be  peoples  so  equipped.  Our  classification  there- 
fore extends  from  the  lowest  known  savagery  to  the  verge  of 
civilization.  But  when  we  pass  the  boundary  our  methods  need 
a  change.  The  food  supply  can  no  longer  be  used,  for  all  civi- 
hzed  peoples  hved  by  a  combination  of  agricultural  and  pastoral 
pursuits,  or  by  an  industry  and  commerce  which  enables  them  to 
buy  the  products  of  agriculture  and  pasture.  No  change  either 
in  the  methods  of  tillage  or  trading,  of  sufficient  magnitude  to 
serve  as  a  class  distinction,  could  be  pointed  out  until  we  come 
to  the  beginnings  of  scientific  farming  in  the  eighteenth  century. 


TYPES   OF  SOCIETY  41 

Other  arts  might  give  more  help.  For  example,  the  early 
Oriental  civilizations  used  copper,  and  later  bronze,  but  not 
iron.i  The  use  of  important  artificial  substances  such  as  glass  ^ 
belongs  to  the  maturity  rather  than  the  youth  of  these  civiliza- 
tions, and  the  Egyptians  gradually  built  up  a  fairly  extensive 
empirical  chemistry.^  Beyond  these  arts,  if  we  except  the 
compass,  known  to  the  Chinese  from  the  second  century  B.C., 
the  use  of  the  arch  in  building,  and  the  elaboration  of  some 
of  the  simpler  machines  in  the  art  of  war,  we  find  relatively 
little  advance  in  industrial  appHances  till  we  come  to  the  first 
epoch  of  inventions  in  the  Middle  Ages.*  But  in  the  meantime 
great  advances  had  been  made  in  other  departments  of  thought 
and  knowledge,  which  no  useful  classification  could  leave  out  of 
account.  In  fact,  if  we  look  to  the  early  civilizations  themselves, 
what  marks  them  out  as  the  beginners  of  historic  culture  is  not 
so  much  any  new  method  of  dealing  with  the  material  world,  as 
the  invention  of  writing,  which  at  once  facilitated  the  organiza- 
tion of  regular  government  over  an  extended  territory,  and  made 
it  possible  to  record  and  hand  on  acquired  knowledge  outside  the 
sphere  of  the  traditional  handicrafts.  The  use  of  WTiting  is  thus 
the  best  rough-and-ready  mark  to  distinguish  civilized  peoples 
as  a  class.  With  its  aid  the  first  Asiatic  civilizations  in  Baby- 
lonia, Egjrpt,  and  Ancient  China  built  up  the  first  elements  of 
systematic  knowledge,  in  arithmetic,  geometry,  and  astronomy, 
together  with  some  fragmentary  and  empirical  knowledge  of 
chemistry  and  medicine.  If  we  used  a  name,  we  may  call  this 
the  stage  of  proto-science  —  of  systematic  knowledge  in  its 
germinal  elements.  But  from  the  eighth  to  the  fifth  centuries 
B.C.,  higher  phases  of  thought  appear  in  many  parts  of  the  world. 
Men  begin  to  reflect  on  ethics  and  government  as  in  China,  on 
religion  and  ethics  as  in  Palestine,  on  ultimate  problems  of  being 
as  in  India,  and  finally  on  the  whole  field  of  knowledge  in  Greece. 

1  In  Egypt  iron  is  found  in  1st  Dj-nasty  tombs  but  does  not  seem  to 
have  come  into  general  use  till  the  seventh  century  (Myres,  Dawn  of 
History,  p.  60).  The  Smnerians  do  not  seem  to  have  known  iron  (King, 
Sumer  and  Accad,  p.  50)  and  to  have  used  copper  rather  than  bronze 
(ih.,  p.  72).  In  Crete,  the  introduction  of  metal  is  referred  to  2800  B.C., 
of  iron  to  1200  B.C.  (Hawes,  Crete  the  Forerunner  of  Greece,  p.  280). 

^  Glazed  beads  appear  in  prehistoric  finds,  but  glass  by  itself  not  before 
the  18th  DjTiasty  (Flinders  Petrie,  Enc.  Brit.,  "Egypt,"  p.  73). 

*  They  knew  gold,  silver,  copper,  iron  and  lead,  and  the  alloys  of  copper 
with  tin  and  zinc,  glass  and  glazed  earthenware.  The^y^  prepared  silk, 
and  had  many  dye-stuffs,  and  drugs  for  medicine  and  embalming  (La  Cour 
and  Appel,  Physik,  ii.  325,  355). 

*  The  Alexandrian  experiments  with  atmospheric  pressure  and  with 
steam  appear  to  have  found  little  or  no  practical  application  until  this 
period. 


42  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

What  connecting  channels  there  may  have  been  to  communicato 
this  impulse,  whether  in  reality  it  arose  independently  among 
different  peoples,  how  far  it  was  prepared  by  such  gradual 
development  of  religious  speculation  which  we  trace  in  Egypt 
during  the  second  millennium  B.C.,  we  do  not  know  accurately 
as  yet.  But  we  have  clearly  to  do  with  a  phase  of  thought  of 
which  the  oldest  civilizations  present  Uttle  or  no  evidence.  It 
has  become  deUberate,  systematic,  definite,  and  in  a  measure 
critical.  In  Greece  criticism  is  appUed  to  the  foundations  of 
thought  itself,  so  that  we  have  a  philosophy,  and  the  field 
of  acquired  knowledge  is  distributed  into  departments,  each  of 
which  is  systematically  explored,  so  that  we  have  true  sciences. 
Finally,  carried  on  by  Arabic  culture,  Greek  thought  arrived  in 
mediaeval  Europe,  and  we  have  the  modern  development  of 
philosophy  and  science.  The  relation  of  each  of  these  phases  of 
thought  to  religion  and  ethics  we  shall  consider  briefly  in  their 
place.  Here  we  may  simply  distinguish  (1)  the  stage  of  incipient 
learning  in  the  ancient  East;  (2)  the  stage  of  reflection  in  the 
later  East;  (3)  the  critical  thought  of  Greece,  widely  affecting 
subsequent  culture;  and  (4)  that  of  the  modern  world,  which 
begins  to  take  independent  shape  from  about  the  sixteenth 
century — movements  too  rich  in  content  to  be  aptly  character- 
ized in  abstract  terms,  and  best  identified  by  the  peoples  among 
whom,  and  the  periods  in  which  they  flourished. 

2.  Intellectual  development  is  not  the  product  of  one  race,  still 
less  of  one  society  alone.  It  is  a  tradition  handed  on  with  suc- 
cessive improvements  from  one  civilization  to  another,  and  that 
is  why  it  shows  a  nearly  continuous  advance.  In  the  field  of 
ethics  tradition  is  not  so  potent,  and  it  is  less  easy  for  one  society 
to  stand  on  the  shoulders  of  another.  In  place  of  a  continuous 
development,  therefore,  we  have  a  succession  of  forms,  of  experi- 
ments in  social  life  we  might  almost  call  them,  which  have  their 
measure  of  success,  and  build  up  societies  that  endure  for  a  longer 
or  shorter  time,  but  in  the  end  give  place  to  some  fresh  social 
type.  Whether,  on  the  whole,  there  is  development  on  this  side 
too,  and,  if  so,  whether  it  stands  in  any  broad  relation  to  intellec- 
tual development,  is  a  question  which  we  must  do  our  best  to  de- 
termine. But  we  must  first  consider  the  forms  themselves,  and 
we  must  begin  by  examining  the  general  character  of  the  social 
union.  For  the  broadest  distinction  between  different  forms  of 
human  society  turns  on  the  nature  of  the  social  bond  itself — the 
tie  which  keeps  the  members  of  a  society  together  while  separating 
them  in  a  greater  or  less  degree  from  the  rest  of  the  world.     Not 


TYPES   OF   SOCIETY  43 

that  the  bond  of  union  is  ever  simple  or  single.  The  motives 
that  make  men  live  and  act  together  are  diverse.  But  among 
the  conditions  which  keep  society  at  one  and  maintain  its  con- 
stitution in  vigour  certain  leading  forces  may  be  distinguished, 
and  at  different  stages  of  development  one  or  other  of  these  is 
often  so  prominent  as  to  dominate  the  remainder  and  give  its 
character  to  the  society  as  a  whole.  These  forces  may,  I  think, 
be  usefully  grouped  into  three  which,  we  may  say,  constitute  the 
leading  principles  of  social  union.     I  will  call  them — 

(A)  The  principle  of  Kinship. 

(B)  The  principle  of  Authority. 

(C)  The  principle  of  Citizenship. 

It  might  be  expected  that  I  should  add  religion  as  a  fourth, 
but  it  is  better  to  say  that  the  rehgious  factor  works  all  along  the 
line,  strengthening  each  of  these  three  in  turn  v/ith  its  authority, 
though  there  are  some  cases  in  which  it  becomes  so  dominant 
as  to  give  a  special  character  to  the  bond,  and  these  must  be  noted 
in  their  place. 

(A)  Kinship,  as  a  bond  of  Social  Union. 

Now  primitive  and  savage  society  appears  to  rest  generally  on 
kinship.  Thus,  the  one  form  of  social  union  which  may  with 
entire  confidence  be  called  natural  and  universal  is  the  relation- 
ship of  mother  and  child.  But  as  the  children  grow  up  they  will 
want  partners  in  their  turn,  and  by  an  impulse  which  rarely  if 
ever  fails  altogether  in  any  society,  will  seek  them  outside  the 
circle  of  their  own  parents,  brothers  or  sisters.  The  simplest 
social  organization,  therefore,  postulates  two  or  more  families 
living  together,  but  constantly  united  by  cross  ties  of  inter- 
marriage. It  may  be  in  such  a  society  that  a  practice  and  even 
a  binding  custom  arise,  that  a  youth  is  given  his  mother's  brother's 
daughter  in  marriage,  while  her  brother,  perhaps,  takes  his  sister 
in  exchange.^  If  so,  or  if  the  group  is  simply  endogamous,^  it 
is  hkely  to  remain  compact  and  exclusive,  and,  indeed,  some 
societies  seem  hardly  to  advance  beyond  this  stage.  A  handful 
of  families,  which  must  in  turn  be  united  by  countless  ramifica- 
tions of  intermarriage,  occupy  in  common  a  tract  of  jungle  or 
bush,  now  camping  together,  now  separating  as  the  need  of  food 
determines.  Their  whole  numbers  will  not  amount  to  more 
than  ten  or  a  dozen  families,  perhaps  not  to  more  than  three  or 

^  With  the  Veddas  marriage  is  either  with  the  mother's  brother's 
daughter  or  father's  sister's  daughter — probably  the  former  by  preference 
(SeHgmann,  The  Veddas,  p.  65).  The  statement  of  older  authorities 
quoted  in  the  first  edition  of  this  work,  that  Veddas  married  their  sisters, 
was  an  error  arising  from  a  linguistic  confusion. 

2  As  the  wild  Kubn  (Hagcn,  p.  130)  and  Semang  (Martin,  p.  8G3). 


44  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

four,  including  from  twenty  to  sixty  individuals.^  In  such  a 
Gross -jamilie,  enlarged  family  or  kindred  group,  whatever  govern- 
mental authority  there  is  fuses  itself  with  the  domestic  authority 
of  the  elders,  and  must  depend  largely  on  their  personal  qualities, 
though  it  may  be  that,  whether  for  his  personal  prowess  or  by 
some  rule  of  succession,  some  one  man  is  pre-eminent  among 
them.  There  is  here  neither  government  nor  law  in  the  sense  of 
an  impersonal  system  capable  of  over-riding  the  ties  of  kinship, 
for  the  ties  of  kinship  are  society. ^ 

But  such  isolation  is  exceptional.  Lender  ordinary  conditions 
the  little  community  will  be  in  contact  with  others,  while  even  if 
it  enters  unoccupied  territory,  it  would,  if  it  were  fruitful  and 
multiplied,  soon  extend  beyond  the  limits  of  the  enlarged  family. 
In  the  latter  case  relations  are  maintained,  and  in  the  former 
may  be  instituted  by  intermarriage.  Suppose  two  such  groups 
as  we  have  described  to  come  into  contact  with  one  another,  and 
suppose  the  young  men  of  the  one  to  find  the  maidens  of  the  other 
fair;  it  is  possible  that,  sooner  or  later,  they  will  get  over  the 
antipathy  of  their  elders,  if  such  there  be,  to  departure  from  the 
practice  of  marriage  within  the  group.  The  groups  will  inter- 
marry and  so  form  a  larger  and  looser  unity.  But  the  very  first 
marriage  is  likely,  if  acknowledged,  to  fix  the  status  of  the  woman 
of  the  new  group  and  her  family.  Very  likely  her  brother  will 
take  a  sister  of  her  suitor  in  exchange,  and  her  family  will  occupy 
towards  that  of  her  husband  the  same  relation  as  any  of  the 
families  of  his  own  group  with  wliich  he  might  previously  marry. 
The  new  family,  that  is,  will  be  ranked  with  a  portion  of  the 
existing   group  for    marriage   purposes,   and  come  under   the 

^  Among  the  wild  Semang,  Martin  [Die  Inland- Stamme  der  Malayischen 
Halbinsel)  saj's  that  the  largest  group  known  seems  to  have  had  six  huts 
with  twentj'^-seven  individuals  (p.  860).  Of  the  Kubu,  Hagen  (Die  Orang 
Kubu  auf  Sumatra)  speaks  (p.  93)  of  ten  to  twelve,  and  elsewhere  (p.  95) 
of  three  to  five  huts.  All  the  Veddas  of  a  group  are  closely  related 
(Seligmann,  p.  68).  The  Botocudo  groups  may  number  ten  to  twenty 
families  (Keane,  J.  A.  I.,  xiii.  207 — The  "horde"  is  an  enlarged  family — 
Von  Tsehudi,  ii.  264).  Some  of  the  Australian  local  groups  seem  to  be  of 
this  type  and  of  about  the  same  number  (Howitt,  p.  59).  According  to 
J.  Mathew  (Eaglehawk  and  Crow,  p.  93),  "  the  cohesion  of  a  community 
rested  entirely  upon  consanguinity,"  the  aggregation  of  families  wherein 
the  older  men  had  a  certain  amount  of  control  constituting  the  com- 
munity. Among  the  Central  Australians  a  strong  local  group  had  about 
forty  individuals,  but  owing  to  the  marriage  customs  of  the  tribe  they 
would  not  all  be  more  closely  related  among  themselves  than  with 
members  of  other  groups. 

^  So  far  as  the  above  account  refers  to  the  Malay  tribes,  it  must  be 
carefully  noted  that  it  is  true  only  of  the  "  wild  "  communities  of  the 
forest,  not  of  the  relatively  settled  people,  who  have  come  under  Malay 
influence,  and  have  frcqucHtly  chiefs  and  something  of  an  organized 
government  (see  Martin,  pp.  876-7). 


TYPES   OF   SOCIETY  45 

same  rules,  whatever  they  happen  to  be,  permitting  or  restrict- 
ing further  unions.  Thus  rules  of  marriage  at  first  based  on 
blood  relationship  are  extended  beyond  it,  and  we  get  the 
germ  of  the  system  of  marriage  classes.  Indeed,  marriage 
outside  the  group,  far  from  being  opposed,  may  be  favoured 
by  more  far-seeing  elders,  who  recognize  in  it  a  source  of 
strength. 1  Be  this  as  it  may,  we  find  above  the  isolated 
family  group  a  stage  at  which  the  kindred  is  the  nucleus  of  a 
wider  but  much  looser  organization  generally  spoken  of  as  the 
tribe.  The  effective  basis  of  this  wider  union  is  still  inter- 
marriage. The  group  may  indeed,  through  the  working  of 
rules  of  kinship,  become  wholly  exogamous,^  in  which  case  it 
will  still  be  thought  of  as  a  kindred,  or  marriage  may  be  regu- 
lated by  rules  cutting  across  the  group  divisions  of  the  tribe  and 
restricting  choice  without  forbidding  marriage  within  the  group 
limits.  In  this  case  the  group  will  cease  to  be  a  distinct  kindred, 
and  will  become  a  local  division  of  a  larger  intermarrying  tribe. 
These  are  familiar  forms  of  tribal  organization,  which  it  will  be 
well  to  illustrate  by  a  concrete  case. 

In  Australia,  a  tribe  such  as  the  Wakelbura,  which  is  typical 
of  many,  occupies  exclusively  a  certain  well-defined  area.  Tliis 
is  divided  into  lesser  areas  occupied  by  divisions  of  the  tribe,  and 
the  subdivision  may  be  followed  till  we  come  to  the  local  unit 
consisting  of  men  who  are  nearly  related  to  one  another,  along 
with  their  wives  who  are  "  brought  from  other  localities."  ^ 
This  is  one  way  in  which  the  tribe  is  divided.  But  there  is  a 
cross  division  dependent  upon  the  marriage  customs.  The  whole 
tribe  is  divided  into  two  moieties  which  are  "  exogamous  " — 
that  is  to  say,  people  must  marry  outside  their  own  moiety. 
These  moieties,  again,  are  divided  into  sub-classes,  and  the  sub- 
classes into  totems.  The  totem  is  a  class  of  objects,  e.  g.  animals 
or  plants,  with  which  certam  human  beings  have  a  mysterious 
affinity.  The  animal  has  an  influence  over  the  human  being, 
the  human  being  can  control  or  affect  the  procreation  of  the 
animal.*  Among  the  Wakelbura  we  find  such  totem  names  as 
the  Plain  Turkey,  Small  Bee,  Opossum,  Kangaroo,  Emu,  Carpet 
Snake,  etc.     The  totems  are  also  exogamous. 

1  This  is,  in  fact,  alleged  as  a  practice,  with  the  motive  assigned  in  the 
text,  among  the  natives  of  East  Victoria  by  R.  H.  Matthews  (Aboriginal 
Tribes  of  N.S.  Wales  and  Victoria,  p.  97). 

^  As  the  Narrinyeri  (Woods,  p.  10). 

^  A.  W.  Howitt,  The  Organization  of  Australian  Tribes,  vol.  i.  part  2, 
1888,  p.  101. 

*  At  least  among  the  Central  Australians  (Spencer  and  Gillen,  I.  chap.  vi). 
I  do  not  know  whether  this  holds  of  the  Wakelbura. 


46  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

Now  the  moiety  and  totem  divisions  go  by  "  mother-right,"  i.  e. 
they  are  inherited  through  the  mother,  and  it  will  be  seen  to 
follow  that  the  women  and  children  of  an}'^  local  group  belong  to 
different  totems  and  the  opposite  moieties  to  their  husbands  and 
fathers.  For  example,  a  man  of  the  Plain  Turkey  totem  cannot 
marry  a  Plain  Turkey  woman.  His  wife  will  be,  say,  an  Emu. 
Her  children,  male  or  female,  will  also  be  Emus.  Hence  any 
single  local  group  must  contain  members  of  the  two  moieties  and 
of  different  totems.  The  moieties  and  totems  will  accordingly 
be  scattered  among  the  different  local  divisions  of  the  tribe. 
In  other  words,  the  two  kinds  of  division  will  cross  one  another. 
On  the  one  hand  we  have  the  local  division  corresponding  to 
the  actual  grouping  of  men  in  their  daily  life.  On  the  other 
we  have  a  cross  division  into  classes  and  totems  which  spread 
all  over  the  tribe.  The  magical  bond  of  totemism  and  the 
practice  of  intermarriage  connected  with  it  ^  constitute  a  strand 
sf  coimection  holding  the  district  local  groups  together. 

Considering  the  social  structure  as  a  whole,  we  find  a  smaller 
unit — the  local  group — based  on  near  kinship  and  maintained 
by  descent  from  parent  to  child,  and  a  wider  unity — the  tribe — 
the  parts  of  which  are  kept  in  close  relationship  by  intermarriage, 
the  whole  structure  being  permeated  by  what  at  a  higher  stage 
we  should  call  common  religious  beliefs,  though  here  the  beUefs 
are  really  not  so  much  religious  as  magical. ^  These  appear  to 
be  the  typical  elements  in  early  society. 

The  matrimonial  class  cutting  through  the  local  groups  of  a 
tribe  does  not  necessarily  lead  to  any  governmental  organization. 
The  fictive  relationships  on  which  it  rests  are  psychologically  of 
feeble  efficacy  for  the  purpose  of  building  up  a  compact  society. 

^  Members  of  the  same  totem  are  also  in  many  tribes  bound  to  mutual 
defence — in  others  not,  as  the  Arunta  (Spencer  and  Gillen,  I.  211).  The 
association  of  the  totem  with  exogamy  is  also  irregular. 

2  Howitt,  op.  cit.,  pp.  98-103.  With  other  forms  of  Australian  social 
organization  and  the  stages  of  transition  to  a  higher  type  I  need  not  deal 
here  (see  Howitt,  I.  c,  p.  102,  and  Tribes  of  South-East  Australia,  chap.  ii). 
Whether  the  local  group  is  strictly  exogamous  depends  on  the  rules  of 
descent.  The  fundamental  rule  of  marriage  in  Australia  is  the  division  of 
the  tribe  into  two  exogamous  moieties,  which,  as  a  rule,  are  further  sub- 
divided into  classes  barring  marriage  between  the  next  successive  genera- 
tions, or  possibly  two  generations.  The  moiety  and  class  may  be  reckoned 
by  descent  through  the  father  or  through  the  mother.  Now  the  child 
generally  (though  not  always)  belongs  to  his  father's  group.  Hence,  if 
the  moiety  is  also  patrilineal  the  group  will  be  exogamous,  as  among  the 
Narrinyeri  and  the  Kurnai  (Howitt,  Kamilaroi  and  Kurnai,  p.  199). 
For  the  variation  in  the  Australian  rules  of  marriage  and  descent,  see 
especially  Howitt,  chap,  iii.,  and  Spencer  and  Gillen,  I.  chap,  ii,  and  II. 
chap.  iii. 


TYPES   OF   SOCIETY  47 

The  relationships  are  all  group  relationships,  i.  e.  no  distinction 
in  name  or  in  tribal  custom  is  drawn  between  the  blood  brother 
and  the  tribal  brother.  A  group  of  tribal  brothers  (a)  inter- 
marrying with  a  group  of  sisters  (6)  will  have,  as  children,  brothers 
and  sisters  of  a  third  group  (c).  This  group  relationship  clearly 
does  not  lend  itself  to  the  family  structure  which  hinges  on  the 
central  position  of  the  common  ancestor  or  eldest  male  ascendant 
as  representing  him.^  But  there  is  an  alternative.  The  kindred 
may  grow  in  numbers,  intermarry  with  others,  and  so  form 
a  tribal  union  while  preserving  the  structure  of  an  enlarged 
family,  and  perhaps  accentuating  the  powers  of  the  head. 
It  then  corresponds  better  to  our  traditional  notion  of  a 
clan — that  is  to  say,  a  kind  of  enlarged  family.  In  the  clan 
most  famihar  to  us,  where  kinship  is  based  on  "  father-right  " — 
that  is,  where  the  child  inherits  its  father's  name  and  status — 
the  government  rests  on  the  eldest  male  ascendant.  A  man 
and  his  wife,  their  sons  with  their  waves,  their  grandchildren 
and  great-grandchildren,  may  dwell  together  or  near  at  hand, 
all  ruled  by  the  common  progenitor.  This  is  the  faniilia,r 
patriarchate  of  Genesis.  But  the  clan-structure  may  also  be 
built  up  on  mother-right,  in  which  case  the  organization  is  a 
degree  more  complex  and  less  compact.  Here  the  centre  of 
the  family  is  the  mother,  and  all  her  children  and  daughters' 
children  belong  to  it.  But  her  husband  is  not  a  member  of  it, 
neither  are  her  daughters'  husbands.  They  are  strangers  and 
sojourners  in  the  abode  of  their  wives,  and  often  have  to  visit 
them  in  s^^cret  and  avoid  all  communication  with  their  wives' 
relatives.  This  is  the  form  of  society  known  formerly  as  the 
matriarchate,  but  the  term  was  a  misnomer,  since  the  cases  in 
which  the  eldest  woman  rules  are  extremely  rare,  if  they  exist 
at  all,  while  mother-right  is  common.  The  headship  of  such  a 
clan  is  ordinarily  inherited  through  the  mother,  but  not  by  the 
mother,  passing  from  her  brother  to  her  son  and  from  her  son  to 
her  daughter's  son. 

The  clan,  whether  maternal  or  paternal,  has  certain  character- 
istic features.  Take,  for  example,  the  Malay  Suku,  the  unit  of 
the  original  Malay  Society.  Here  membership  of  the  Sukus 
goes  by  female  descent,  the  headship  is  partly  inherited  through 
the  mother  but  in  part  elective,  and  the  head  dispenses  justice 
except  in  the  grave  cases  for  which  an  assembly  of  heads  are 
gathered    together.      The    clan    owns    all    the   land   which    its 

^  At  the  same  time  men  of  the  same  marriage  class  may  stand  by  one 
another  in  a  quarrel  (Spencer  and  Gillen,  I.  p.  211)  and  the  "tribal 
brothers"  protect  a  man  or  woman  (Roth,  p.  140). 


48  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

members  occupy.  The  men  who  marry  into  it  cannot  touch 
their  wives'  property  without  the  consent  of  her  family.  It 
protects  and  avenges  its  members  and  is  collectively  answerable 
for  their  misdeeds.  These  are  ordinary  features  of  clan-life, 
thoixgh  naturally  they  are  worked  out  with  many  differences  of 
detail.^ 

As  to  government,  for  example,  there  are  many  variations  in 
the  power  of  the  head  and  the  mode  of  his  appointment.  He 
may  have  absolute  powers  of  life  and  death  like  the  Roman 
father,  or,  to  take  an  example  from  the  domain  of  mother-right, 
hke  the  maternal  uncle  or  grandfather  among  some  African 
people,  such  as  the  Barea  and  Kunama.^  Or  he  may  have  little 
power  to  act  without  the  consent  of  the  clan.  Thus,  in  the 
Indian  law  books  his  position  fluctuates  between  that  of  a 
patriarch  and  the  manager  of  a  joint  stock. ^  He  may  have  the 
right  at  will  to  expel  his  son  from  the  family,  as  apparently  in 
the  older  Babylonian  law,  or  this  right  may  be  expressly  Hmited, 
as  in  Hammurabi's  code.*  Finally,  he  may  liimself  be  set  aside 
for  incompetence,  as  is  possible  at  the  present  day  in  the  joint 
family  of  the  Deccan  and  of  Montenegro,  and  could  be  done  by 
the  Phratry  under  Athenian  law.^ 

The  clan  may  also  be  ruled  by  a  council,  as  among  the  Wyan- 
dots,  where  a  council  of  four  women  was  chosen  by  the  women. 
These  four  selected  a  chief  from  among  their  sons  and  brothers, 
and  the  aggregate  of  the  gentile  councils  so  constituted  form  the 
council  of  the  tribe. ^ 

Again,   the   extent   of   the   clan   may   vary   greatly.     Under 

1  Waitz,  Anthropologic,  5,  i.  pp.  139-142. 

2  The  theory  of  Manu,  Book  VIII,  416,  is  that  all  the  property  is  the 
father's.  Among  the  Kondhs,  too,  the  father  is  absolute,  the  sons  having 
no  property,  but  with  their  wives  and  children  sharing  the  common  meal 
(J.  D.  Mayne,  A  Treatise  on  Hindu  Law,  p.  231 ;  Post,  Orundriss  der 
Ethnologischen  Jurisprudenz,  i.  136). 

3  Mayne,  255-298. 

*  I  assimae  in  the  text,  for  the  sake  of  argument,  that  the  "  Sumerian 
Laws  "  do  represent  actual  custom  of  early  date.  According  to  the  third 
of  these  "  laws,"  the  father,  by  disowning  his  son,  could  expel  him  from 
house  and  "  wall "  (?).  The  mother  could  deprive  him  of  the  house  and 
its  furniture.  On  the  other  hand,  the  son,  for  disowniiag  his  father,  could 
be  thrown  into  chains  and  sold,  and  for  disowning  his  mother,  he  could  be 
driven  out  of  house  and  town  (Meissner,  Beitriige  zum  Altbabylonischen 
Privatrecht,  p.  14).  In  Hammurabi  (sections  168  and  169),  the  father  can 
only  disinherit  for  a  second  offence,  confirmed  by  the  judgment  of  a  court. 
In  contracts  of  the  period,  both  the  older  and  newer  usages  are  found 
(Kohler  and  Peiser,  Hammurabi's  Oesetz,  p.  134  ff).  If  the  Sumerian  Laws 
form  a  real  code,  they  are,  as  Kohler  and  Peiser  have  pointed  out,  distinctly 
more  archaic  than  Hammurabi. 

^  Post,  op.  cit.,  1.  pp.  137,  138. 

•  Powell,  Wyandot  Government,  p.  6L 


TYPES   OF   SOCIETY  49 

faiher-right,  for  example,  it  may  hold  together  only  while  the 
common  ancestor  lives,  or  it  may  continue  in  being  after  his 
death,  his  eldest  son,  or  next  brother,  succeeding  him,  or  the 
succession,  perhaps,  being  determined  by  free  choice.  Some 
writers  distinguish  the  two  forms  as  the  Patriarchal  Family 
and  Joint  Family  respectively,  and  both  are  common  enough  in 
modern  India. ^  There  is  no  necessary  limit  at  which  the  family 
must  break  up,  though  naturally  the  disruptive  tendencies  in- 
crease with  its  size.  In  India,  the  presumption  of  the  law  is 
that  the  family  is  undivided,  but  this  presumption  is  naturally 
weaker  in  proportion  as  the  relationship  is  more  remote.  Often, 
as  in  parts  of  the  Malay  world,  among  the  Nairs  of  the  Malabar 
coast,  and  among  the  North  American  Indians,  a  vigorous  joint 
family  system  grows  up  on  the  basis  of  mother -right.  Some- 
times a  group  of  famihes  occupy  one  large  house,  each  family 
having  its  own  apartments.  Among  the  Iroquois  the  members 
of  the  Long  House  carried  out  their  harvest  in  common  and  had 
a  common  store  administered  by  the  elder  women  and  distributed 
by  them  among  the  different  apartments,^ 

3.  The  intermarrying  clans  form  a  tribe,  which,  however,  may 
be  a  very  loose  organization.  Thus,  among  the  Western  Dene, 
we  are  told  that  there  was  no  bond  between  different  villages 
except  the  gentile  tie  which  would  be  due  to  exogamy,  and  also 
probably  to  migration,  and  here  there  was  no  common  head  of 
the  clan. 2  As  long  as  the  clan  mainta>ns  the  right  of  protecting 
its  own  members  the  gentile  tie  will  be  more  effectual  than  the 
tribal.  Here  it  is  important  to  remark  that  the  effects  of  inter- 
marriage on  the  social  structure  differ  materially  according  as 
mother-right  or  father-right  prevails.  Under  mother-right  the 
result  of  marriage  outside  the  clan — "  clan  exogamy  " — is  that 
the  man  will  always  belong  to  a  different  clan  from  that  of  his 
wife  and  children,  who  are  accordingly  more  closely  dependent 
on  the  wife's  brother  than  on  her  husband.^    The  result  is  to 

1  Mayne,  223-232.  The  ruler,  after  the  father's  death,  may  be  the 
eldest  male — the  eldest  brother,  "  by  consent,"  according  to  Narada — or 
he  may  be  chosen,  as  among  the  Todas. 

^  Morgan,  Houselife,  pp.  63,  66. 

'  Morice,  "  Manners  and  Customs  of  the  Western  Den6,"  in  Proceedings 
of  the  Canadian  Institute,  vol.  vii.  p.  142. 

*  Thus  the  uncle  (or  whatever  other  relation  the  particular  constitution 
of  the  clan  may  designate)  will  have  the  right  of  protecting  or  punishino- 
the  children,  giving  the  girls  in  marriage,  etc.  The  children  will  inherit 
from  him,  and  in  case  of  divorce  they  remain  in  the  mother's  clan  (for 
examples,  see  Post,  i.  72-78).  The  uncle  may  even  have  the  right  to 
protect  the  child  against  its  own  father,  e.  g.  among  the  Barea,  Bazen,  and 


50  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

introduce  a  cross  division,  a  cleavage  that  cuts  tlirough  family 
and  clan  life.^  We  have  seen  this  cross  division  at  work  among 
the  Australians,  but  there  we  thought  of  it  mainly  as  a  bond  of 
union  between  little  groups  of  low  organization.  In  relation  to 
a  more  developed  system  of  kinship,  however,  its  other  effects 
become  important.  The  bond  that  unites  separate  clans  mars 
the  unity  of  the  family  itself.  This  is  very  apparent  where,  as 
among  the  North  American  Indians,  exogamy  is  based  on 
Totemism.  The  members  of  the  totem  are  bound  to  mutual 
defence,  and,  as  the  same  totem  may  be  found  in  quite  remote 
parts — as  e.  g.  there  will  be  Bears  or  Beavers  all  over  North 
America,  there  is  a  potential  bond  of  union  over  a  wide  district. 
But  equally,  since  the  totem  is  exogamous,  no  one  totem  by  itself 
can  form  a  society.  In  some  cases  two  totems  are,  one  may 
say,  marriage  partners,  i.e.  the  men  of  one  must  take  wives 
only  from  the  women  of  another.  More  generally  there  is  no 
such  restriction,  but  two  or  more  totems  live  together  and  inter- 
marry. Thus  among  the  Iroquois  there  were  eight  totems — 
the  Wolf,  Bear,  Beaver,  Turtle,  Deer,  Snipe,  Heron  and  Hawk.^ 
All  or  most  of  these  were  found  in  each  of  the  five  "  nations  " 
or  local  communities  into  which  the  Iroquois  were  divided.  In 
each  "  nation  "  or  local  community  there  would  be  Beaver  men 
with  Bear  wives  and  children.  Bear  men  with  Beaver  wives  and 
children,  the  totem  bond  cutting  clean  across  the  family  and  local 
divisions. 

This  dual  relationship  became  a  means  of  achieving  a  higher 
political  Union.  The  famous  League  of  the  Five  Nations  was 
founded  on  the  fact  that  each  nation  contained  the  eight  totemic 
groups  enumerated  above,  and  that  the  totem  tie  was  held  as 
strong  as  the  local  tie — so  that  two  Hawks  of  different  nations 
would  have  stood  together  against  a  Heron  or  a  Bear  of  their 
own  nation.  This  cross  division  formed  a  natural  basis  for 
union,  and  its  strength  was  attested  by  the  success  and  dura- 

Kunama.  Cf.  Rivers,  in  The  Cambridge  Expedition,  p.  151.  In  the  Torres 
Straits  a  fight  would  be  stopped,  if  one  of  the  combatants  saw  his  mother's 
brother  on  the  other  side.  The  father  also  had  power  to  stop  a  fight,  but 
it  was  less  absolute  {ib.,  144,  145).  In  some  cases  both  the  paternal  and 
maternal  gens  were  bound  to  help  an  injured  member,  e.  g.  among  the 
Kwakiutl  (Boaz,  B.  A.,  1889,  p.  833). 

^  The  children  might  even  return  to  the  mother's  tribe,  though  brought 
up  with  her  in  that  of  the  father — as  among  the  Thiinkeets  (Boaz,  B.  A., 
18SS,  p.  237).     This  would  still  further  dislocate  the  family. 

*  Originally  these  formed  two  exogamous  groups,  i.  e.  Wolf,  Bear, 
Turtle  and  Beaver  could  not  intermarry,  but  must  take  a  partner  from 
one  of  the  other  four  totems.  But  this  restriction  broke  down  (Morgan, 
Jueague  of  the  Iroquois,  p.  83). 


TYPES    OF   SOCIETY  51 

bility  of  the  League.  What  was  done  consciously  by  the  Iroquois 
was,  if  the  view  suggested  be  correct,  an  application  of  a  principle 
which,  operating  in  less  conscious  form,  has  contributed  in  large 
measure  to  the  formation  of  organized  society.  The  practice 
of  marrying  outside  the  family  would  cause  every  local  aggre- 
gation of  peoples  to  consist  of  individuals  belonging  to  two 
families  or  more,  and  while  the  physical  tie  bound  the  husband 
to  his  wife's  children  the  marriage  tie  bound  both  him  and 
them  to  other  families.  In  this  we  may,  perhaps,  find  an 
explanation  both  of  the  wide  prevalence  of  varying  rules  of 
exogamy  and  of  the  horrors  attending  its  breach.  If  the 
structure  of  any  society  were  bound  up  with  the  maintenance 
of  exogamy  it  is  in  accordance  with  the  normal  processes  of 
social  evolution  that  a  strongly-felt  tradition  should  assist  to 
safeguard  the  practice  and  to  condemn  and  destroy  those  who 
break  it.^ 

Be  this  as  it  may,  let  us  note  the  form  of  social  union  arrived 
at  under  mother-right  and  exogamy.  We  have  (1)  the  clan, 
the  enlarged  family,  living  together  and  connected  by  ties  of 
descent  through  the  female.  (2)  The  marriage-relation  cutting 
across  the  clans  and  grafting  the  sons  and  brothers  of  one  clan 
on  to  another  as  husbands  and  fathers.  On  the  basis  of  this 
connection  we  may  have  (3)  the  local  community  of  several 
intermarrying  clans  living  side  by  side,  and  (4)  a  wider  tribal 
union  so  far  as  the  unity  of  the  totem  or  marriage  class  extends. 
There  is  here  a  possible  basis  for  an  extensive  but  somewhat 
loose  organization,  the  totem  bond  tending  to  weaken  rather 
than  to  strengthen  that  of  the  clan. 

Under  father-right  the  development  is  simpler.  So  far  as 
exogamy  prevails  this  will  still  form  a  bond  of  connection  be- 
tween separate  stocks,  but  the  wife  now  passes  out  of  her  family 
into  that  of  her  husband,  and  her  children  are  his.  Hence  the 
division  cutting  across  the  family  is  no  longer  to  be  found. ^ 
Without  it  the  family  group  is  more  closely  knit.  Yet  the  tie 
formed  by  intermarriage,  though  less  strong  than  under  the 
other  system,  would  still  be  very  real.  The  wife  becomes  a 
member  of  the  family  into  which  she  marries,  but  she  still  retains 
relationship  with  her  blood  kindred,  and  cognatio — relation- 
ship   through    either   parent — is    generally    recognized    by   the 

^  On  the  instinctive  element  underlying  exogamy,  see  below,  chap.  iv. 

*  Among  the  Australian  tribes,  indeed,  the  totem  (or  class)  divides  the 
family  as  much  under  father-right  as  under  mother-right.  In  either  case, 
one  parent  is  separated  from  the  children.  But  "  father-right  "  at  a  stage 
when  the  family  is  so  little  developed,  means  much  less  than  the  father-right 
of  the  clan  system. 


52  MORALS   IN   EVOLUTION 

side  of  agnatic,  strict  male  kinship  alone.^  A  group  of  such 
intermarrying  families  therefore  forms  a  community  united  by 
countless  interwoven  strands  of  affinity  and  blood  relationship, 
while  the  component  units  would  be  more  compact  than  under 
mother-right.^ 

^  As  e.  g.  among  the  Celts  (Vinogradoff,  Growth  of  the  Manor,  pp.  10-12), 
and  still  naore  strongly  among  the  primitive  Germans  {ib.,  135,  136). 

*  It  is  probably  owing  to  the  importance  of  intermarriage  as  a  bond  of 
union  in  early  society  that  prohibitions  of  marriage  generally  extend 
over  a  wider  circle  of  relationships  in  primitive  than  in  advanced  peoples 
(Westermarck,  297  ff.),  and  that  they  are  often  highly  developed  under  the 
paternal,  no  less  than  under  the  maternal  system.  Thus,  in  early  Rome, 
marriage  was  forbidden  within  the  sixth  degree  of  cognatio  (Westermarck, 
308) ;  in  Manu,  between  all  Sapindas,  i.  e.  to  the  seventh  degree.  Manu 
further  opposes  marriage  between  all  relations  through  the  male  (Mtmu,  iii. 
section  5.  The  law  is  not  stated  very  stringently — a  damsel  fulfilling  these 
conditions  is  recommended  to  twice-born  men).  The  law  re-appears  in  the 
minor  codes.  Apastamba,  ii.  v.  11,  15-16;  Gautama,  iv.  2-5;  Vasishtha, 
viii.  1,  2;  Vishnu,  xxiv.  §  9,  10.  According  to  J.  D.  Mayne,  pp.  87,  88, 
though  Manu  applies  the  rule  to  twice-born  men  only,  it  is  also  observed  by 
the  Kurumbas,  Meenas,  Kondhs  of  Orissa,  and  Dravidian  tribes  of  S.  India. 
In  China,  marriage  is  forbidden  to  all  of  the  same  name  (Alabaster,  177). 

Such  prohibitions  may,  of  course,  be  combined  with  clan  or  race  or  caste 
endogamy  (prohibitions  to  marry  outside  the  group  concerned).  The  union 
of  exogamy  in  one  relation  with  endogamy  in  another  leads  to  much  con- 
fusion in  the  discussion  of  the  subject,  and  obscures  the  functions  and 
tendencies  of  each  rule.  Thus,  the  suggestion  that  the  clan  is  built  up  by 
exogamy  may  be  countered  by  the  production  of  endogamous  clans.  This 
would  be  fallacious,  since  the  exogamy  which  helps  to  build  the  clan  is 
the  prohibition  of  marriage  between  near  kin,  not  that  of  marriage  within 
the  clan  itself.  But  the  working  of  endogamy  illustrates  by  contrast  the 
uniting  effects  of  intermarriage.  In  the  history  of  Rome,  each  step  towards 
a  wider  union  seems  to  have  been  accompanied  by  a  breakdown  of  endo- 
gamous rules.  Originally  marriage  seems  to  have  been  limited  to  the 
"  gens  "  (Westermarck,  quoting  Mommsen  and  Marquardt,  308),  or  perhaps 
the  "  curia  "  (see  Ihering,  Evolution  of  the  Aryan,  p.  334).  Then  the 
patrician  gentes  formed  a  circle  of  intermarrying  clans.  The  plebs 
obtained  the  jtts  connubii  in  445  B.C.  (Mommsen,  I.  p.  297),  and  hence- 
forward the  distinction  of  patrician  and  plebeian  faded  away .  Further, 
the  Latini  Prisci  had  the  jus  connubii  from  an  early  period  (Mommsen,  I. 
p.  100;  Girard,  104),  and  the  extension  of  this  form  of  Latinitas,  and 
still  more  of  Roman  citizenship,  meant  at  every  stage  a  widening  of  the 
circle  within  which  marriage  was  possible,  till  it  embraced  the  whole  free 
population  of  the  empire.  At  each  remove  endogamy  is  the  separator, 
intermarriage  the  bond  of  union. 

The  line  of  thought  developed  in  the  text  points  to  the  conclusion  that 
it  is  the  combination  of  the  tie  of  intermarriage  with  that  of  descent  that 
forms  the  basis  of  primitive  society.  But  to  lay  this  down  as  our  positive 
conclusion  would  be  to  go  beyond  the  evidence.  There  are  rude  societies 
in  existence,  in  which  no  rule  of  exogamy  holds,  so  that  even  the  imion  of 
parent  and  child  is  permitted  (several  instances  are  given  in  Westermarck, 
pp.  290,  291).  On  the  other  hand.  Post,  Grundriss,  i.  p.  33)  justly  remarks 
that  close  unions  are  scarcely  ever  enjoined,  unless  to  preserve  the  purity 
of  blood  (as  among  the  Pharaohs  and  the  Incas),  or  possibly  to  preserve  the 
family  property.  Such  reasons  imply  a  society  that  is  alrpady  well  estab- 
lished, from  which  the  need  of  intermarriage  to  maintain  the  social  bond 


TYPES   OF   SOCIETY  65 

Of  course,  even  in  early  society  the  principle  of  kinship  is 
not  as  rigid  in  practice  as  it  is  in  theory.  It  admits  of  an 
element  of  fiction,  since  the  inclusion  of  strangers  and  slaves, 
which  is  seldom  wholly  unknown,  makes  the  community  of 
blood  in  part  at  least  imaginary.  But  it  is  altogether  in  accord- 
ance with  primitive  ideas  that  the  make-beUeve — if  the  belief 
is  properly  made  with  all  due  rites  and  conditions  fulfilled — is 
just  as  good  as  the  reality,  and  so  the  adopted  son  fills  the  place 
of  a  real  son.  But  though  he  is  not  really  bound  by  the  blood 
tie,  the  fictions  used  to  constitute  him  one  of  the  family  are 
an  evidence  to  us  showing  how  strong  the  sense  of  the  blood 
tie  is.  This  sense  finds  its  expression  in  the  family  worship, 
the  funeral  feast  to  the  dead  kindred,  and  the  belief  that  none 
but  the  actual  kin,  or  those  who  have  with  due  formality  been 
made  such,  may  lawfully  do  this  service  to  the  dead.  Hence 
the  fear  of  calamities,  of  troubles  from  unfed  and  unpropitiated 
ghosts,  if  the  family  should  ever  die  out.  Hence,  again,  the 
duty  of  maintaining  the  family  succession,  the  intense  desire 
for  male  descendants,  and  the  community  of  property  out  of 
which  the  funeral  feasts  are  served.  The  patriarchal  family  is 
in  ideal  an  undying  unity.  Unencumbered  by  the  cross  currents 
of  feeling  set  in  motion  by  mother-right,  it  carries  the  tie  of 
kinship  and  the  affections  of  the  household  to  their  highest 
development,  while  it  is  none  the  less  capable  of  utilizing  inter- 
marriage or  the  ramifications  of  descent  to  extend  the  bonds 
of  kinship,  and  so  build  up  a  wider  union.  Thus,  as  in  the  case 
of  the  Roman  gens,  the  clan  may  be  a  much  wider  society  than 
any  family  group  connected  by  a  known  common  descent. 
Again,  distinct  clans  may  be  parts  of  a  still  wider,  if  looser  union, 
bound  by  a  sense  of  kinship.  Thus  beyond  the  Greek  yeVo?  we 
have  the  ^par/ota,  and  beyond  that  the  <l)vkrj,  each  maintaining 

has  already  fallen  away.  On  the  other  hand,  in  a  primitive  people  where 
the  social  order  was  only  in  the  making,  it  is  certainly  reasonable  to  sup- 
pose that  the  objection  to  marriage  between  those  of  the  same  stock  (on 
whatever  principle  kinship  be  reckoned)  would  tend  to  keep  society  together, 
while  a  preference  for  such  marriages  would  tend  to  break  it  up. 

The  forces  binding  men  together  are  in  reality  complex,  but  if  we  imagine 
kinship  to  be  the  only  one,  and  then  conceive  two  families  living  in  prox- 
imity, fii'st  with  an  exogamous,  and  then  with  an  endogamous  rule,  we  shall 
be  able  to  understand  the  function  of  exoganny.  The  two  intermarrying 
families  will  form  in  all  essentials  the  nucleus  of  a  community.  The  two 
which  do  not  intermarry  must  remain  permanently  separate.  Each  may 
grow,  but  if  the  in-and-in  tendency  persists,  kinship  still  being  assumed 
to  remain  the  sole  basis  of  union,  they  will  tend  constantly  to  split  up,  the 
ties  between  each  section  being  so  much  closer  than  those  between  more 
distant  kin.  Thus  the  practice  of  intermarriage  is  the  main  condition 
determining  the  formation  and  governing  the  limite  of  early  society. 


54  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

a  certain  bond  between  its  members  resting  on  real  or  sup- 
posed kinship.^  Indeed,  the  paternal  clan  has  very  naturally 
formed  the  starting  point  for  the  development  of  nearly  all  the 
civilized  races,  Aryan,  Semitic  and  Mongol,  and  has  left  its 
marks  deep  in  the  life  of  the  great  nations  which  have  arisen 
out  of  it. 

We  are  led,  then,  to  think  of  the  simplest  societies  as  living  in 
"enlarged  famihes,"  and  of  those  just  above  them  as  forming 
larger  aggregates,  principally  on  the  basis  of  intermarriage. 
Within  these  aggregates  or  tribes  the  groups  remain  though  modi- 
fied in  various  ways,  and  constitute  at  first  the  more  vital  and 
efifective  social  organism,  the  organization  of  the  tribe  becoming 
important  as  society  advances.  These  points  are  reflected  in  a 
comparison  of  the  accounts  of  government  which  we  obtain 
among  peoples  of  dijGferent  economic  grades.  Considering  first 
the  inner  group,  we  find  a  considerable  number  of  cases 
among  the  Lower  Hunters  where  no  effective  government  can 
be  asserted  apart  from  the  household.  The  proportion  of  such 
cases  to  all  those  of  which  we  have  information  falls  steadily 
from  approximately  one-half  among  the  Lower  Hunters  to  one- 
tenth  in  the  second  grade  of  agriculture  and  to  none  in  the 
higher  economic  grades.^  Passing  to  the  government  of  the 
tribe,  we  have  considerable  difficulty  in  comparing  like  with 
like.^  But,  putting  together  all  the  cases  in  which  we  find 
evidence  of  a  recognized  government  in  a  definite  social  unity 
superior  to  the  clan  or  local  group,  we  find  them  numbering 
from  a  quarter  to  nearly  a  third  of  the  whole  among  the  Hunters 
and  in  the  lowest  agricultural  grade,  rising  to  nearly  a  half  in 
the  next  grade  of  agricultural,  and  to  over  three-fourths  in  the 
highest  pastoral  and  agricultural  peoples,  where,  moreover,  in 
many  instances,  the  organization  of  government  goes  altogether 
beyond  the  tribal  type  and  reaches  that  of  a  petty  kingdom. 

4.  (B)  The  Principle  of  Authority. 

The  types  of  social  organization  hitherto  described  may  be 
looked  upon  as  sj)ontaneous  growths  resting  on  the  natural  ties 

1  Busolt,  Staata  und  Rechtaaltertiimer,  p.  21  ff. 

2  Simpler  Peoples,  p.  51, 

^  It  is  not  always  clear,  e.  g.  whether  a  village  containing  several  clans 
or  joint  families  should  be  ranked  as  a  "  tribe  "  for  this  purpose.  It  is 
probably  one  of  a  number  of  villages  all  reckoned  as  one  tribe,  so  that 
relatively  to  them  it  is  an  inner  group.  Compared  with  a  hunting  people, 
on  the  other  hand,  it  probably  contains  as  many  individuals  and  as  complex 
an  internal  structure  as  a  tribe.  The  comparisons  we  give  probably  under- 
estimate, through  caution  on  this  point,  the  extent  of  the  change  found  in 
passing  from  the  lowest  to  the  higher  economic  grades. 


TYPES   OF   SOCIETY  65 

of  blood  relationship,  intermarriage  and  neighbourhood.  By 
consequence  they  are  suited  to  small  societies.  It  is  true  that 
they  widen  out  into  broader  organizations ;  many  clans  form 
one  tribal  union;  a  number  of  communes  form  a  district,  and 
perhaps  own  a  common  chief.  Sometimes  even,  as  in  the 
League  of  the  Iroquois,  these  unions  are  the  deliberate  work 
of  barbarian  statesmen,  so  that  something  more  than  mere 
spontaneous  semi-instinctive  social  forces  come  into  play.  But 
these  wider  ramifications  have,  as  a  rule,  been  loosely  and  feebly 
connected.  The  living  energy  remains  with  the  small,  con- 
centrated unit.  How,  then,  are  larger  aggregations  built  into 
compact  societies  ?  The  most  direct  method  is  that  of  forcible 
subjection  to  a  single  chief  or  a  ruling  class.  In  the  primitive 
tribe  the  power  of  the  chief  is  seldom  great  or  even  assured.  In 
the  commune  the  headman  is  little  more  than  a  chairman  of 
the  folkmoot.  But  when  a  people  begin  a  career  of  conquest 
two  things  happen.  They  themselves  must  have  discipline,  and 
they  need  a  war-chief  with  unlimited  powers.  The  war-chief 
surrounds  himself  with  his  following,  his  comites,  who  attach 
themselves  to  his  fortunes,  and  is  a  simpleton  if  he  cannot  make 
the  state  of  war  or  the  fear  of  war  so  permanent  that  his  own 
absolute  authority  becomes  indefinitely  prolonged.  On  the 
other  hand,  captive  prisoners  form  for  the  first  time  an  important 
slave  class,  or  perhaps  the  lands  of  conquered  peoples  are  left 
to  them  to  till  as  serfs  under  the  lordship  of  favoured  individuals 
from  the  comitatus  of  the  war-chief.  Hence,  on  the  one  hand 
the  decay  of  free  institutions  among  the  conquerors,  and  on  the 
other  the  growth  of  classes  within  society.  All  the  great  civiliza- 
tions, those  of  western  Europe,  of  the  far  East,  of  Mexico  and 
Peru,  of  ancient  Egypt  and  Babylonia,  seem  to  have  experienced 
this  stage  of  development.  But  it  should  be  noted  that  the 
despotic  system  arises,  and  in  some  respects  finds  its  most 
extreme  developments,  among  people  still  in  the  stage  of  bar- 
barism. For  example,  in  West  Africa,  as  in  Dahomey  and 
Ashanti,  we  find  the  principle  pushed  to  the  point  that  the  king 
is  absolute  master  of  the  persons  and  property  of  every  one  of 
his  subjects.  He  can  put  any  one  to  death  at  pleasure,  any 
man  may  be  his  slave,  any  woman  taken  to  his  harem.  The 
political  exaltation  of  the  monarch  is  often  accentuated  by 
a  certain  phase  in  the  growth  of  religious  conceptions.  He 
becomes  a  man-god  like  the  Pharaohs ;  his  person  is  sacred ;  no 
one  may  look  on  him  and  live — finally  he  becomes  taboo  and  so 
full  of  danger  to  his  subjects  that  he  has  to  be  secluded,  and  the 
almighty  being  ends  in  becoming  a  helpless  puppet  in  the  hands 


66  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

of  his  priests.  Perhaps  he  becomes  responsible  for  good  and 
evil  fortune,  for  sunshine  and  rain,  and  if  he  manages  the  weather 
badly,  his  absolute  power  will  avail  him  httle  and  his  spirit 
stands  in  imminent  danger  of  a  compulsory  migration  to  another 
representative  of  the  royal  line.  Where  religion  is  too  advanced 
for  the  actual  deification  of  the  king,  as  in  western  Europe, 
he  may  yet  be  God's  representative,  and  so,  e.  g.  the  theory 
of  divine  right  arose  in  England  when  feudalism  passed  into 
absolutism  and  the  king  who  could  not  be  God  Himself  proclaimed 
himself  at  least  God's  viceregent. 

The  personal  power  of  the  king,  whatever  the  theory  of  abso- 
lutism may  be,  is  limited  by  hard  facts  of  human  nature ; 
monarchs,  whatever  their  courtier  priests  may  say,  are  not  gods, 
and  therefore  can  in  fact  rule  in  person  only  as  much  as  they 
can  themselves  oversee  and  understand.  Hence  personal  abso- 
lutism is  for  the  most  part  limited  to  a  narrow  circle.  A  Csesar 
or  Napoleon  may  really  supervise  the  affairs  of  a  great  empire, 
but  as  a  general  rule  the  absolute  monarchy  which  I  have 
described  has  effective  existence  only  over  a  comparatively 
small  area.  A  conqueror  of  a  wider  territory  has,  after  all,  to 
divest  himself  of  most  of  his  real  authority  over  it.  To  retain  a 
nominal  supremacy  he  must  parcel  it  out  among  his  followers, 
or  perhaps  leave  the  native  chiefs  in  possession  as  tributaries. 
In  either  case  the  ruler  of  the  subject  province  will  probably 
have  much  real  independence.  Where  the  native  prince  remains 
things  will  go  on  very  much  as  they  did  before.  The  distant 
great  king  will  be  known  as  one  who  exacts  a  tribute,  but  in 
no  other  capacity.  Where  the  king  institutes  one  of  his  own 
followers  or  a  great  noble  of  the  conquering  people  as  the  local 
governor,  he  retains  at  first  a  more  direct  control.  But  where 
the  territory  is  large  and  the  means  of  communication  rude, 
the  position  of  the  man  on  the  spot  is  the  stronger.  The  great 
officer  acquires  much  practical  independence,  and  often  succeeds 
in  making  his  position  hereditary,  and  a  feudal  system  replaces 
absolute  monarchy. 

The  conflicts  between  the  two  principles  of  local  and  central 
authority  make  up  a  large  part  of  political  history.  At  the 
one  extreme  the  monarch  succeeds  in  governing  his  people 
through  officials  wholly  dependent  on  his  favour.  At  the 
other  he  sinks  into  the  position  of  being  merely  the  first  in 
rank  in  an  order  of  practically  equal  and  independent  nobles. 
The  latter  alternative  is  apt  to  be  the  more  depressing  to  the 
general  condition  of  the  people.  But  in  any  case  the  masses 
find  themselves  at  the  base  of  the  social  hierarchy  which  has 


TYPES   OF   SOCIETY  67 

now  arisen  to  replace  the  simpler  and  comparatively  equal 
conditions  of  the  earlier  social  order.  The  best  they  can  hope 
for  is  to  be  let  alone,  and  in  fact  throughout  the  East  the  later 
despotism  is  merely  superimposed  on  the  older  organizations 
which  persist  beneath  its  sway  comparatively  undisturbed,  and 
maintain  their  vitality  while  empires  rise  and  fall.  Such  a 
state  of  civilization  may,  as  Egypt,  Babylonia  and  China  have 
shown,  persist  for  thousands  of  years  without  essential  change 
in  the  customs  of  the  people,  who  in  reality  take  too  small  a  part 
in  the  life  of  a  greater  community  to  which  they  belong  to 
affect  or  be  gravely  affected  by  its  vicissitudes.  But  naturally 
the  tendency  of  despotic  organization  is  upon  the  whole  to 
depress  the  condition  of  the  masses  :  in  some  cases  large  slave 
populations  are  formed;  in  others  a  caste  system  arises;  in 
others  the  tillers  of  the  soil  sink  into  one  or  other  of  the  many 
forms  of  serfdom,  while  the  conquering  race  are  the  lords  of  the 
land.  All  these  forms  of  class  subordination  should  be  reckoned 
as  expressions  of  the  despotic  principle  in  social  organization ;  it 
is  not  only  the  form  of  government  but  the  whole  social  structure 
which  is  infused  with  this  dominating  influence. 

We  are  not,  of  course,  to  suppose  that  any  society  rests  upon 
force  undiluted.  In  the  first  place,  as  already  remarked,  the 
old  forms  of  organization  generally  retain  a  measure  of  their 
vitality  in  spite  of  conquest.  The  conquerors  themselves  are 
united  by  ties  of  blood  by  the  gentile,  the  tribal,  or  the  com- 
munal bond,  they  have  their  own  law  and  customs,  resting  not 
on  force  but  upon  the  deep-lying  social  principles  which  have 
bound  them  together  from  of  old,  and  which  guide  them  by 
some  principle  of  justice,  if  it  be  but  in  the  division  of  the  booty. 
In  the  second  place,  they  find  similar  institutions  flourishing 
among  the  conquered  and  have  to  make  their  account  with 
these ;  but  further,  and  in  the  third  place,  both  from  enlightened 
self-interest  and  from  the  inextinguishable  element  of  self- 
judgment  in  man  which  makes  him  cling  to  the  semblance  of 
right  most  of  all  when  he  is  rejecting  the  reality,  the  conqueror 
cannot  bear  to  rest  his  title  permanently  on  force  alone.  He 
seeks  to  transmute  force  into  authority.  For  this  he  will  find 
a  means  in  religion  and  an  instrument  in  the  priesthood.  But 
at  the  same  time  the  ethical  element  has  its  opportunity,  and 
insists  with  varying  degrees  of  clearness  and  emphasis  that  the 
real  authority  of  the  ruler  must  be  derived  from  his  power  to 
govern  for  the  good  of  the  people.  The  simple  but  compre- 
hensive code  of  despotism  merely  lays  down  that  one  man  is 
divinely  appointed  to  determine  what  is  best  for  all  others,  and 


68  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

therewith  transmutes  arbitrary  power  into  righteous  authority 
and  slavish  subjection  into  loyal  service. 

As  to  the  way  in  which  the  duties  of  a  ruler  are  conceived, 
we  find,  of  course,  every  shade  of  difference  in  the  empires  and 
kingdoms  of  history.  Thus,  a  military  tribe  of  barbarians  will 
merely  raid  their  neighbours  for  slaves  or  for  human  sacrifice,  or 
they  will  conquer  them  for  the  sake  of  tribute.  But  where  a 
more  civilized  morality  prevails,  and  particularly  in  so  far  as 
conquest  ends  in  an  amalgamation  of  races,  and  a  kingdom 
comes  to  be  a  unity,  the  ethical  principle  of  the  common  good 
asserts  itself,  and  is  enforced  by  religious  sanctions.  The  lord 
has  duties  to  his  serfs,  the  feudal  superior  to  his  vassals,  the 
king  to  all  his  subjects.  Such  duties  are  by  no  means  peculiar 
to  modern  and  Christian  communities.  We  find  them  hardly 
less  prominent  in  the  earliest  civilizations.  The  feudal  rulers  of 
Egypt,  for  example,  the  princes  of  the  Nomes,  always  take  a 
special  credit  for  their  uprightness  as  governors,  their  goodness 
to  the  poor,  their  mercifulness  to  the  weak.  A  deceased  governor 
under  the  12th  Dynasty  asserts  that  he  was  "  the  staff  of 
support  to  the  aged,  the  foster-father  of  the  children,  the  coun- 
sellor of  the  unfortunate,  the  refuge  in  which  those  who  suffer 
from  the  cold  in  Thebes  may  warm  themselves,  the  bread  of  the 
afflicted  which  never  failed  in  the  city  of  the  South,"  ^  The 
Chinese  Empire,  though  in  form  an  absolute  despotism,  was  in 
ethical  principle  an  empire  administered  by  a  divine  race  for 
the  good  of  the  governed.  The  duty  of  the  prince  to  his  people 
was  the  constant  theme  of  the  classical  moralists,  and  their 
teaching  took  tangible  shape  in  the  right  of  freely  criticizing 
the  emperor  maintained  by  the  censors  chosen  from  the  educated 
class.  Thus  in  the  settled  and  homogeneous  kingdom  we  have 
a  regime  in  which  government  originating  in  force  is  tempered 
by  moral  considerations  and  evolves  into  some  form  of  recognized 
hierarchical  authority.  The  law  emanates  not  from  society  as  a 
whole,  but  from  its  central  figure  and  chief  ruler.  It  expresses 
not  the  natural  conditions  of  social  life,  but  the  will  of  the 
supreme  lord,  the  representative  it  may  be  of  the  deity.  Or  it 
is  the  possession  of  a  priestly  caste  to  whom  it  has  been  en- 
trusted by  the  powers  that  rule  the  universe.  The  essential 
point  is  that  law  is  imposed  by  the  ruler  upon  the  ruled,  it  is  a 
command  from  a  superior  to  a  subordinate,  it  is  not  any  longer 
conceived  as  a  custom  arising  out  of  the  conditions  of  life  among 
those  who  have  to  conform  to  it,  neither  is  it  a  rule  of  action 
voluntarily  adopted  for  the  common  good. 

^  Maspero,  The  Dawn  of  Civilization,  p.  338. 


(TYPES   OF    SOCIETY  59 

When  consolidated  by  history,  by  the  gradual  blending  of 
races,  and  perhaps  bj''  common  defence  against  the  foreigner, 
the  kingdom  gains  some  of  the  characteristics  of  a  free  com- 
munity. Having  done  so  it  may,  and  if  it  has  the  opportunity, 
probably  will,  start  afresh  on  a  career  of  conquest  beyond  its 
borders.  If  successful,  it  will  build  up  an  empire,  and  here, 
again,  there  will  be  many  gradations  in  the  tempering  of  force 
with  higher  social  and  moral  considerations.  Outside  their 
borders  the  great  kingdoms  of  the  ancient  East  appear  to  have 
conquered  largely  to  obtain  slaves  or  tribute,  and  the  principal 
duty  of  the  local  governor  was  to  collect  taxes,  and  forward  the 
produce  to  the  supreme  lord  at  Thebes,  Babylon  or  Nineveh. 
In  the  Persian  Empire  we  seem  to  recognize  the  begimiing  of  a 
higher  stage.  At  least  its  kings  interested  themselves  in  the 
pure  administration  of  justice,  and  Cambyses  flays  the  corrupt 
judge  and  covers  the  judgment  seat  with  his  skin  to  be  a  memento 
and  a  warning  to  his  successor.^  The  Romans  went  much 
further,  and  developed  their  conquests  into  something  more 
nearly  resembling  a  commonwealth  by  developing  local  institu- 
tions and  throwing  down  barriers  between  conqueror  and  con- 
quered. And  in  proportion  as  supernatural  sanctions  have  lost 
strength  the  modern  empire -states  have  still  more  distinctly  felt 
the  necessity  for  some  other  bond  than  that  of  naked  force  or 
self-constituted  authority  to  link  the  scattered  parts  together. 
Thus  the  furthest  development  of  the  principle  of  authority 
points  to  the  necessity  for  that  remaining  bond  of  social  union 
which  has  yet  to  be  described. 

To  sum  up  the  results  which  the  despotic  principle — whether 
we  regard  it  as  authority  resting  ultimately  on  force  or  as  force 
transmuted  into  authority — has  given  us — 

1st. — ^As  to  the  forms  of  Society,  we  have 

(a)  The  Absolute  Monarchy,  where  the  king  is  divine  and 

lord  without  restraint  of  the  persons  and  properties 
of  his  subjects.  This  form  has  most  vitality  in 
relatively  small  and  barbaric  communities. 

(b)  The   Feudal   Monarchy,   suited   to   wider   areas   where 

power  is  delegated,  and  the  governing  class  form  a 
hierarchy. 

(c)  The  Em'pire,  formed  by  the  aggregation  of  kingdoms, 

overstepping  national  boundaries  and  exhibiting  very 
varying  degrees  of  unity  and  of  local  freedom. 
2nd. — As  to  the  nature  of  Government,  the  conception  of  a 
moral  duty  to  the  governed  develops  in  proportion  to  the  degree 
^  Herodotus,  Book  V.  chap.  xxv. 


60  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

of  unity  achieved,  but  throughout  law  is  conceived  as  based 
upon  authority  and  the  social  system  on  the  subordination  of 
class  to  class.  For  this  order  a  religious  sanction  is  found, 
generally  in  the  special  association  of  the  ruler  with  the  deity, 
often  also  in  the  semi -divine  character  of  the  ruling  race  or 
caste,  or,  simply,  in  the  behef  in  their  conquering  and  civihzing 
mission. 

If,  finally,  we  may  endeavour  to  sum  up  in  a  sentence  the 
function  of  this  principle  in  human  evolution,  we  may  say  that 
it  belongs  to  epochs  of  expansion  in  culture  and  improvements 
in  the  arts  of  life.  It  is  one  method  by  which  large  communities 
can  be  formed  with  greater  facilities  for  self-preservation  and 
for  the  maintenance  of  internal  order  than  the  primitive  clan  or 
village  commune  can  enjoy.  We  shall  also  find  that  on  certain 
sides  the  order  it  imposes  is  not  only  more  adequate  but  ethically 
higher  than  that  attained  by  the  clan.  On  the  other  hand,  it 
tends  to  perpetuate,  and  in  some  respects  to  deepen  those 
distinctions  between  man  and  man  which,  as  we  shall  see,  it  is 
a  main  function  of  the  ethical  spirit  to  overcome.  It  avoids 
this  error  in  so  far  as  it  embodies  or  makes  room  for  something 
of  the  third  principle  with  which  we  now  have  to  deal. 

5.  (C)  The  Principle  of  Citizenship — Personal  Rights  and  the 
Common  Good. 

A  paternal  government  resting  ultimately  on  force,  but 
justifjdng  its  position  in  its  own  eyes  by  kindly  consideration 
for  the  good  of  its  subjects,  is  not  the  last  word  of  civilized 
society.  A  type  of  social  organiza-tion  exists  in  which  the  rela- 
tions of  government  and  governed  are  in  a  manner  inverted. 
Government  is  conceived  not  as  itself  the  source  of  unquestioned 
authority,  but  as  a  function  which  certain  individuals  are  dele- 
gated to  perform  as  servants,  "  ministers  "  of  the  public  as  a 
whole.  The  structure  of  the  laws,  the  acts  of  executive  govern- 
ment, are  not  so  many  commands  issued  by  a  superior  and 
obeyed  by  the  people,  but  are  customs  and  decisions  expressing 
the  character  and  depending  on  the  resolves  of  the  people  them- 
selves. The  subjects  of  a  government  have  become  citizens  of  a 
state,  and  the  citizen  has  rights  which  are  no  less  important 
than  his  duties.  These  rights  hold  good  as  against  the  govern- 
ment just  as  they  hold  against  cfther  individuals,  for  it  is  a 
prime  characteristic  of  the  state  based  on  citizenship  that  it 
establishes  the  reign  of  law,  and  subjects  its  own  officers  to  this 
impersonal  sovereign. 

On  this  side,  then,  the  state  stands  in  strong  contrast  with 


TYPES   OF   SOCIETY  61 

the  despotic  empire.  Its  government  rests  not  so  much  on  the 
authority  of  a  superior  as  on  the  consent  of  the  bulk  of  its  mem- 
bers. Compulsion,  of  course,  is  still  necessary  in  the  enforce- 
ment of  law,  but  its  methods  are  less  violent  and  at  the  same 
time  more  effective.  The  severity  of  punishment  diminishes, 
poUtical  offences  become  rarer,  and  free  discussion  and  criticism 
are  no  longer  found  incompatible  with  social  order.  In  the 
societies  which  have  advanced  furthest  in  this  direction  all 
classes  are  admitted  finally  to  a  share  or  a  voice  in  the  govern- 
ment. In  some  respects  this  description  recalls  the  earher 
tribe.  For  there,  too,  law  or  custom  was  the  direct  expres- 
sion of  the  will,  or,  at  any  rate,  of  the  character  and  traditions 
of  the  people.  It  came  from  them  and  was  not  imposed  on 
them.  So  it  is  not  wholly  without  reason  that  reformers 
struggling  with  the  weight  of  the  bureaucratic  machinery  under 
an  arbitrary  government  have  looked  back  on  primitive  life  as 
an  ideal  state  of  liberty  and  freedom  from  which  civihzation  was 
a  luckless  departure.  But  this  is  only  a  half  truth — hardly 
even  so  much.  There  is  very  little  really  in  common  between 
the  "  liberty  "  of  the  clan  or  tribe  and  that  which  the  law 
secures  to  the  citizen  in  a  civilized  state.  For,  if  on  one  side 
the  state  rests  on  general  consent,^  on  the  other  side  its  constitu- 
tion is  rooted  in  the  personal  rights  of  its  citizens.  Its  com- 
ponent members  or  units  are  not  groups,  but  individuals.  In 
the  clan  and  the  tribe,  as  will  appear  more  fully  in  sub- 
sequent chapters,  the  individual  has  no  legal  position,  scarcely 
even  the  possibility  of  existence,  apart  from  the  body  to  which 
he  belongs.  The  family,  the  clan,  or  the  village,  or  perhaps 
all  three,  are  responsible  to  him  for  his  safety,  responsible  to 
others  for  his  wrong-doing,  responsible,  we  may  almost  say,  for 
his  maintenance.  His  life  is  laid  down  by  his  place  in  them, 
his  property  is  in  the  main  a  share  in  their  property,  his  goda 
are  their  gods.  He  caimot  leave  them,  nor  can  he  enter  into 
obligations  which  will  have  the  effect  of  binding  them.  His 
position  in  the  group  is,  as  it  were,  an  exhaustive  account  of  his 
existence,  and  he  has  little  personal  life  apart  from  it.  In  the 
state  all  this  is  greatly  changed.  The  individual  is  now  a 
responsible  agent.     As  soon  as  he  comes  to  mature  years  he 

^  Even  under  this  aspect,  the  state  does  not  really  resemble  the  primitive 
community  as  closely  as  it  appears  to  do.  In  the  latter,  custom  has  a 
magical  or  religious  sa.nction,  and  in  its  main  lines  is  unalterable.  In  the 
state  it  is  freely  modifiable  by  legislation.  Thus,  in  the  primitive  tribe, 
though  the  social  structiu'e  doubtless  rests  ultimately  on  the  character  of 
the  people,  it  does  not  express  their  free  deliberate  choice,  for  free  criticism 
of  established  custom  is  not  yet  a  part  of  their  character. 


62  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

Btands  or  falls  by  himself.  He  and  no  one  else  is  punished  if 
he  does  wrong,  and  his  engagements  place  no  liability  on  any 
one  except  those  who  are  directly  or  indirectly  parties  to  them. 
He  is  free  to  alienate  his  property,  to  enter  into  contracts  with 
whom  he  will,  to  quit  his  home,  and  even  to  emigrate  and 
abandon  his  allegiance  to  the  state  itself.  The  minor  groups  to 
which  he  belongs  are  either  mere  local  bodies  created  afresh  by 
the  state  which  delegates  to  them  some  of  its  rights  and  duties, 
or  they  are  voluntary  associations  which  the  citizen  himself 
forms  by  agreement  with  others  and  which  fill  an  ever  larger 
part  in  public  and  private  life.  He  even  forms  his  own  church 
and  holds  his  own  creed,  and  his  gods  need  not  be  those  of 
the  state.  At  the  same  time,  the  responsibilities  of  the  old 
"  natural  "  groups  are  taken  over  and  are  even  amplified  by 
the  state,  which  owes  its  members  protection  in  the  exercise 
of  all  rights  which  it  recognizes,  and,  generally  speaking,  holds 
itself  bound  at  need  to  stand  between  them  and  sheer  starvation. 
In  a  word,  the  state,  and  particularly  the  modern  state,  recog- 
nizes the  claims  of  human  personality  as  neither  the  commune 
nor  the  monarchy  can  afford  to  do.  It  exists  for  a  common 
good,  but  its  function  is  to  maintain  private  rights. 

There  lies  in  this  statement,  however,  a  speculative  as  well 
as  a  practical  difficulty,  to  pause  upon  which  for  a  moment  will 
help  us  to  understand  the  nature  and  development  of  the  state. 
For  if  government  is  circumscribed  in  its  action  by  the  rights 
of  citizens,  it  would  seem  that  a  standard  of  conduct  is  being  set 
up  which  is  alien  in  origin,  and  may  at  any  time  be  opposed 
in  practice  to  the  common  good.  The  solution  is  found  by 
considering  in  what  the  common  good  consists,  and  what  is  the 
foundation  of  an  individual  right.  The  community  consists  of 
men  and  women,  who  find  their  happiness  in  the  life  which 
makes  the  most  of  their  capacities  as  thinking,  feehng,  active 
beings.  In  other  words,  the  "  good  "  for  each  man  lies  in  the 
realization  of  what  is  in  him,  the  development  of  his  personality. 
Now,  since  this  is  an  imperfect  world,  the  growth  of  one  per- 
sonality may  be  the  cramping  of  another.  But,  fortunately, 
there  is  another  possibility,  since  by  developing  certain  sides 
of  ourselves,  far  from  injuring  or  cramping,  we  stimulate  and 
assist  the  similar  development  of  others.  Now  what  form  of  de- 
velopment is  best  for  the  individual  is  a  question  of  the  ultimate 
basis  of  morals,  as  to  which  we  shall  have  something  to  say  at 
a  later  stage.  But  if  we  judge  from  the  point  of  view  of  the 
common  good,  as  we  are  now  doing,  our  choice  is  clear.  We 
can   see  that   one   kind   of   self-development,  if  attempted   by 


TYPES   OF  SOCIETY  63 

everybody,  will  be  eventually  destructive,  while  another  kind 
will  harmonize  with  itself  and  grow.  In  this  alone  is  there  the 
possibility  of  a  good  for  each  which  is  also  a  good  for  all — a 
common  good.  Calling  the  basis  of  this  kind  of  self-develop- 
ment the  social  personality,  we  may  define  the  common  good  as 
consisting  in  the  development  of  the  social  personahty,  and  in 
its  name  every  member  of  society  has  a  right  to  the  conditions 
requisite  for  such  a  development,  so  far  as  they  are  generally 
attainable  by  social  action.  On  the  other  hand,  no  rights  exist 
but  those  which  the  common  good  prescribes.  For  a  right  is  a 
claim  which  one  man  makes  on  the  actions  or  forbearance  of 
others,  and  which  is  sustained  by  an  impartial  judgment.  But 
an  impartial  judgment  is  one  which  looks  beyond  the  individual, 
and  recognizes  that  the  right  claimed  by  one  must  be  maintained 
for  all.  But  no  right  could  be  practically  maintained  for  all 
which  was  incompatible  with  the  safety  of  the  community,  nor 
could  any  right  be  desirable  for  all  which  inflicted  net  loss  on 
the  community.  Hence  the  rights  of  each  are  such  as  it  is  for 
the  good  of  all  to  maintain. ^ 

The  generic  character  of  the  state,  then,  is  that  of  a  community 
whose  structure  and  character  depend  on  the  good-will  of  the 
bulk  of  its  members,  and  whose  welfare  rests  accordingly  on 
their  loyalty  and  public  feeling,  while  it  is  for  them  the  source 
and  guarantee  of  the  free  exercise  of  their  rights  as  citizens. 
Thus,  the  citizen  is  a  fully  responsible  agent  with  assignable 
rights  and  duties  as  member  of  a  community.  So  far  as  the 
idea  of  the  community  is  carried  through,  i.  e.  so  far  as  the 
common  good  really  is  common  to  all  belonging  to  it,  the  rights 
and  duties  must  fall  to  all  members  alike,  excepting  only  as  the 
needs  of  the  common  welfare  demand  a  difference.  That  is  to 
say,  privileges  of  whatever  kind  must  depend  on  the  exercise 
of  functions  which  they  encourage  or  render  possible,  and  the 
taking  up  of  such  functions  must  be  open  to  all  who  are  capable 
of  them.  Such  is  the  general  character,  in  the  baldest  state- 
ment, of  the  type  of  civic  community  or  state,  with  its  two 
main  features,  the  responsible  individual  fully  seized  of  civic 
rights  and  obligations,  and  the  responsible  government  express- 
ing the  will  of  the  whole  society  in  law  and  administration. 
Thus  security  under  law  and  the  power  of  the  community  to 
make  and  modify  the  law  express  the  bare  essentials  of  the 
state. 

^  That  is,  for  the  good  in  the  long  run.  There  may  often  be  a  conflict 
between  expediency  and  right  in  the  particular  case,  and  hence  it  is  that 
the  opposition  arises. 


64  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

6.  How  far  the  idea  of  citizenship  is  pushed  is  a  question  of 
degree  on  which  a  great  deal  turns.  The  actual  number  of 
citizens  may  be  but  a  fraction  of  the  whole  number  of  people 
dwelling  in  a  given  territory,  and  while  as  between  these  there 
may  be  a  regime  of  perfect  legality  and  perfect  equality,  their 
relations  to  the  mass  of  the  people  may  be  as  frankly  based  on 
force  as  those  of  any  monarchical  despotism.  Again,  within 
the  circle  of  citizens  there  may  be  degrees  of  civic  rights.  These 
differences  can  only  be  justified  ethically  by  the  belief  in  an 
innate  and  ineradicable  difference  in  capacity  to  meet  civic 
responsibility  on  the  part  of  members  of  different  classes.  In 
proportion  as  this  belief  is  dissolved  by  experience  the  obligations 
of  citizenship  become  universal,  and  the  idea  of  citizensliip  as 
an  exclusive  right  merges  in  that  of  personality,  with  rights 
and  capacities  which  all  may  share  simply  as  human  beings. 
According  to  this  conception,  which  must  be  understood  from 
what  has  been  said  above  of  the  social  personality,  what  is  good 
in  life  consists  in  the  bringing  out  into  full  bloom  of  those 
capacities  of  each  individual  which  help  to  maintain  the  common 
life.  In  this  development  lies  a  form  of  happiness  for  each, 
which  does  not  conflict,  but  fits  in  with  and  promotes  that  of 
others,  and  does  not  tend  to  arrest,  but  to  maintain  and  carry 
forward  what  may  be  called  the  growth  of  the  collective  mind—  < 
the  expansion  of  faculty,  the  growth  of  achievement.  Every 
human  being,  in  proportion  as  he  is  normally  developed,  is  able 
to  enter  into  and  contribute  to  the  good  life  so  conceived,  and 
that  he  should  do  so  is  the  sum  and  substance  of  all  his  duties 
to  society  and  all  the  duties  of  society  to  him.  But  this  same 
principle  once  pushed  through,  annuls,  ethically  speaking,  the 
distinction  between  citizen  and  foreigner,  for  the  foreigner  may 
be  quite  equally  capable  of  the  same  life,  and,  if  so,  is  morally 
seized  of  the  same  rights  and  duties,  and  if,  through  difference 
of  race,  he  is  not  always  equally  capable,  still  his  rights  and 
duties  cannot  fall  to  zero,  but  vary  only  with  the  degree  of 
his  incapacity.  Hence  the  fully-developed  state  in  which 
the  principle  of  personality  is  rigorously  carried  through,  must 
also  find  itself  in  definite  ethical  relation  to  humanity  as  a 
whole. 

The  principles  thus  summarized  are  applied  with  greater  or 
less  of  thoroughness  in  the  forms  of  state  which  under  varying 
conditions  and  on  a  very  varying  scale  have  come  into  existence 
at  different  periods  of  history.  We  find  the  conception  of  a 
government  resting  on  civic  rights  in  the  city-state  of  ancient 
Greece  and  Italy  and  of  mediaeval  Europe ;  we  find  it  on  a  larger 


TYPES   OF  SOCIETY  65 

scale  in  the  country-state  of  the  modern  world.  The  Graeco- 
Italian  city  was  more  than  a  clan,  a  tribe  or  a  village  community ; 
it  was  an  organized  political  society,  with  a  regular  government 
administering  written  laws.  But  the  government  was  not,  in 
relation  to  the  free  citizens,  in  any  way  despotic ;  law  reigned, 
not  the  ruler,  and  sovereign  law  was  not  imposed  upon  the 
people  from  v/ithout,  but  expressed  their  own  traditional 
character  a-nd  laid  down  rules  to  which  they  adhered  of  their 
own  free  choice.^  The  obedience  of  the  Greek  to  law  was  a 
moral  obedience,  the  lo3^alty  of  free  men  to  an  authority  which 
they  recognized  as  a  moral  authority.  "  Though  the  Lace- 
daemonians are  free,"  says  Demaratus  to  Xerxes,  "  yet  they  are 
not  free  in  all  things,  for  over  them  is  set  Law  as  a  master, 
whom  they  fear  much  more  even  than  thy  people  fear  thee: 
It  is  certain  at  least  that  they  do  whatsoever  that  master  com- 
mands ;  and  he  commands  ever  the  same  thing — that  is  to  say, 
he  bids  them  not  fiee  out  of  battle  from  any  multitude  of 
men,  but  stay  in  their  post  and  win  the  victory  or  lose  their 
life."  2 

Thus  law  in  the  Greek  state  expressed  not  the  will  of  a  superior 
but  a  moral  authority,  freely  recognized  by  free  men,  and  equally 
binding  on  the  ruler  and  the  ruled.  On  this  side  the  city  state 
was  contrasted,  as  the  Greeks  were  fully  conscious,  with  oriental 
despotism.  On  the  other  hand,  in  its  many-sided  development 
of  judicial,  executive  and  legislative  organs,  it  stood  far  removed 
from  the  primitive  community.  The  archaic  institutions  of 
early  society — the  clan,  the  phratry  and  the  tribe — gradually 
lost  their  functions.  They  ceased  to  be  responsible  for  their 
members,  and  the  entire  execution  of  justice  passed  into  the 
hands  of  the  state.  In  the  most  advanced  cities  new  divisions 
were  formed  on  a  territorial  basis  to  replace  the  old  spontaneous 
associations.  The  individual  was  responsible  before  the  law 
for  his  own  acts,  and — at  least  as  far  as  he  was  a  free  citizen — 
could  carve  out  his  own  career.  He  was  eligible  for  the  highest 
oiSce,  and  Aristotle  justly  defined  the  good  citizen  as  the  man 
who  could  both  rule  and  be  ruled  with  a  view  of  life  at  its  best ; 

^  It  is  an  interesting  point,  as  illustrating  the  transition  from  the 
primitive  subjection  of  the  popular  will  to  tradition  to  the  later  stage  of 
civic  freedom,  that  throughout  the  best  period  of  Greece  the  established 
law  retained  much  of  the  primitive  sanctity  attaching  to  old  custom,  so 
that,  even  at  Athens,  the  Assembly  could  not  finally  decide  upon  changes 
in  the  law,  but  had  to  refer  such  innovations  to  a  body  selected  from  the 
sworn  jurymen  for  the  year,  while  the  proposer  of  a  law,  held  by  them  to 
be  unjustifiable,  was  liable  to  prosecution  (see  Sidgwick,  European  Polity, 
pp.  175,  176). 

"  Herodotus,  Book  VII.  chap.  civ.  (Macaulay  Tr.). 
F 


66  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

indeed,  in  no  other  political  system  have  public  institutions 
offered  greater  scope  for  individual  initiative,  nor  have  collective 
duties  been  more  generously  conceived  to  meet  human  needs. 
Aristotle  could  define  a  Greek  state  as  an  association  for  main- 
tainmg  a  good  life  for  its  citizens.  The  object  of  political  in- 
stitutions was  frankly  declared  to  be  "  that  we  may  make  the 
citizens  good."  Untroubled  by  any  conflict  between  the  secular 
and  the  spiritual  power,  the  Greeks  could  readily  conceive  a 
political  society  as  an  association  for  all  the  principal  purposes 
of  life  that  are  not  covered  by  the  smaller  association  of  the 
household.  On  this  side  their  ideal  of  the  state  has  never  since 
been  equalled. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  idea  of  association  was  not  pushed 
through.  The  state  was  limited  to  the  narrow  circle  of  the 
freemen,  and  even  within  the  freemen  the  oligarchies  drew  sharp 
distinctions.  Of  the  true  society  which  formed  the  Spartan 
state,  only  a  few  thousand  Spartiates  were  really  members ;  the 
Perioeci  and  Helots  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  Spartan  con- 
stitution except  to  conform  to  its  ordinances.  The  democracies 
opened  citizenship  to  a  wider  circle,  but  here  agam  the  great 
fissure  between  freeman  and  slave  was  maintained.  But  so  far 
as  the  non-free  were  concerned  the  distinctive  character  of  the 
state  disappears.  The  free  Athenian  demos  rules  the  enslaved 
mass ;  ^  the  Spartiate  rules  the  Perioecus  and  the  Helot  no  more 
by  a  principle  of  right  than  the  Great  King  his  motley  crowd  of 
subjects.  So  far  as  the  state  includes  an  unenfranchised  popula- 
tion, it  abandons  the  principle  of  right  and  falls  back  on  that  of 
force.  But  this  was  not  the  only  drawback  to  the  Greek  ttoAis. 
Its  limited  scale  and  the  incapacity  of  the  Greeks  for  a  higher 
form  of  union  proved  the  opportunity  of  Macedon  and  the  de- 
struction of  Greek  freedom.  At  Rome  the  incapacity  of  the 
city  state  to  extend  its  borders  and  yet  maintain  the  vigour  of 
its  free  constitution  led  to  the  extinction  of  the  Republic ;  the 
Empire  could  only  be  consolidated  by  a  bureaucracy.  The 
mediaeval  cities  escaped  slavery.  Indeed,  as  providing  a  refuge 
for  the  fugitive  serf  they  played  a  part  in  the  movement  towards 
general  freedom.  But  in  other  respects  they  repeated  many  of 
the  features  of  the  Greek  ttoAi?.  We  find  similar  conflicts  between 
oligarchic  and  democratic  tendencies.  There  is  the  struggle  of 
the  crafts  as  against  the  merchants,  and  the  counter  tendency  of 
the  crafts  in  their  turn,  when  once  fully  enfranchised,  to  become 

^  It  is  not,  however,  always  sufficiently  recognized  that  the  Athenian 
democracy  did  tend  to  make  the  position  of  slaves  more  tolerable  (see 
below,  chap.  vii.). 


TYPES   OF   SOCIETY  67 

exclusive  corporations.  There  are  difficulties  with  feudal  nobles 
and  with  king  or  emperor  from  which  the  Greek  state  was  free, 
and  a  consequent  exaggeration  of  the  troubles  of  faction  and  an 
even  greater  tendency  than  in  Greece  to  have  resort  to  the 
plenary  powers  of  a  tyrannis.  There  is  the  same  limitation  of 
area,  and  the  same  difficulty  of  combined  action — witness  the 
inertness  of  the  Dutch  cities  in  rendering  aid  to  one  another 
against  Philip  as  compared  with  the  determination  shown  in 
the  defence  of  each  city  individually.  Internal  faction  and 
external  exclusiveness  together  wrote  the  doom  of  the  mediseval 
city. 

7.  The  experiment  of  founding  a  state  was  to  be  tried  over 
again  in  the  modern  world  on  a  larger  scale,  when  the  concen- 
tration of  powers  in  the  hands  of  the  monarch  had  consolidated 
the  more  advanced  nations,  wliile  personal  freedom  had,  on  the 
whole,  been  secured  for  the  mass  of  the  people  and  the  religious 
schism  had  undermined  the  structure  of  ecclesiastical  authority. 
This  concentration  meant,  in  the  first  instance,  a  period  of 
absolutism,  and  the  reaction  against  absolutism  has  filled  the 
greater  part  of  the  modem  period.  Ethically  considered,  this 
re-action  has  two  sides.  On  the  one  hand,  the  government  comes 
to  recognize  that  its  position  is  only  justified  by  its  function  in 
serving  pubHc  order  and  the  general  happiness.  The  doctrine 
of  the  plenary  power  of  the  king,  emerging  though  it  did  readily 
enough  from  the  feudal  conception  of  the  supreme  over-lord 
when  the  feudal  checks  were  removed,  was  nevertheless  alien 
to  the  temper  of  Europe  and  the  spirit  of  modern  Ethics.  The 
doctrine  of  the  ultimate  supremacy  of  the  people  and  the  dele- 
gated power  of  the  supreme  ruler  had  held  its  place  in  the  civil 
law  and  had  never  wholly  disappeared  from  the  academic  world, 
and  in  the  eigliteneth  century  the  world  of  thought  was  fully 
ready  to  accept  the  doctrine  that  a  government  holds  power  only 
by  its  capacity  to  serve  the  people's  needs.  On  the  other  side, 
the  principle  of  personality  won  the  successive  recognition  of  one 
right  after  another — right  to  the  protection  of  the  tribunals 
or  immunity  from  arbitrary  punishment,  freedom  in  religious 
matters,  first  freedom  of  conscience,  afterwards  freedom  of 
expression  and  of  public  worship,  the  right  to  discuss  and 
criticize  acts  of  government,  the  right  of  meeting  and  associ- 
ation, ultimately  the  political  right  to  secure  these  liberties 
by  an  indirect  share  in  the  government  of  the  country — all 
the  rights  which,  taken  together,  make  the  modern  state  what 
it  is. 


68  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

In  so  far  as  it  rests  on  these  and  similar  rights,  while  they  in 
turn  depend  on  the  guarantees  which  orderly  government  can 
give,  the  modern  state  depends  not  on  forcible  control,  but  on 
the  assent  of  the  great  bulk  of  the  governed.  Its  principle, 
needless  to  say,  is  not  always  consistently  carried  through.  In 
particular,  governments  have  almost  everywhere  waged  war 
with  the  spirit  of  nationality  where  it  has  come  in  their  way,  and 
have  preferred  to  wander  far  from  the  principles  of  equal  political 
freedom  rather  than  seek  some  method  of  accommodating 
themselves  to  an  inconvenient  but  very  hardy  sentiment. 
Otherwise  there  is  no  such  permanent  cause  of  internal  division 
as  marred  the  life  of  the  Greek  states.  Nor  has  faction  ever 
shown  itself  so  serious  in  our  world.  The  larger  scale  of  the 
modern  state  gives  it  more  prospect  of  permanence.  But  here, 
again,  its  ultimate  fate  must  depend  on  the  conduct  of  its  ex- 
ternal relations.  The  internecine  feuds  which  ravaged  Hellas 
have  at  times  repeated  themselves  on  the  larger  scale  of  Europe, 
and  threaten  now  to  take  in  the  whole  civilized  world.  And  in 
modern,  as  in  ancient,  times  military  ambitions  and  internal 
liberty  are  hard  to  reconcile.  The  future  of  the  State  is  bound 
up  with  Internationalism.  If  the  rivalries  and  jealousies  of  the 
civilized  nations  can  be  so  far  overcome  as  to  admit  of  combined 
action  in  the  cause  of  peace,  there  is  every  reason  to  expect  that 
within  each  nation  the  rule  of  right  will  be  maintained  and 
developed.  If,  on  the  contrary,  wars  are  to  give  way  only  to 
periods  of  armed  peace,  each  country  alike  must  gradually 
relapse  into  the  rule  of  a  dictatorship.  The  country  state, 
therefore,  can  hardly  be  the  final  word  of  politics,  but  if  pro- 
gress continues  it  must  consist  in  the  quickening  into  active  life 
of  those  germs  of  internationalism  which  the  best  statesmen 
of  the  nineteenth  century  helped  to  bring  into  a  precarious 
existence  .1 

We  have  thus  distinguished  three  principles  of  social  union, 
each  tending  to  work  itself  out  in  more  than  one  form  of  social 
organization,  according  to  the  varying  conditions  upon  which  it 
operates.     We  have  had — 

(1)  The  Blood  Tie,  Kinship,  and  Intermarriage,  from  which 

sjorang  the  Clan  and  the  Tribe.     Of  these  there  were 

two  great  divisions  : 
(a)  The  Maternal  Clan. 
{b)  The  Paternal  Clan,  the  Patriarchate. 
In  both  classes  we  find  the  Joint  Household,  which  may 

be  regarded  as  at  once  a  clan  and  a  fa^piily. 

1  Written  in  1905. 


TYPES  OF  SOCIETY  69 

(2)  Despotism — the  Principle  of  Force  and  Authority. 

(a)  Personal — Military  or  Bureaucratic  Despotism. 

(b)  Feudal  Monarch5^ 

(c)  The  International  Empire. 

(3)  The   Principle   of   Citizenship,   the   Common   Good   and 

Personal  Right,  from  which  spring 

(a)  The  City  State. 

(b)  The  Country  State. 

The  types  of  social  organization  that  have  been  sketched 
are  not  mutually  exclusive.  A  despotic  oriental  monarchy  may 
rule  over  a  hundred  thousand  village  communities,  each  consist- 
ing of  a  dozen  or  a  score  of  patriarchal  households  in  which 
some  residual  traces  of  mother-right  and  totemism  may  still  be 
found.  An  independent  commune  may  rest  on  a  clan  system 
founded  on  mother-right,  and  such  clans  may,  like  the  Iroquois, 
build  up  a  federation  resting  on  assent  rather  than  force,  and  so 
correspond  rather  to  a  state  than  to  a  despotic  kingdom.  What 
we  have  distinguished  are  (1)  certam  principles  of  organization 
which,  when  they  work  out  unencumbered  by  other  principles, 
form  (2)  distinguishable  types  of  social  structure — types  wliich 
we  may  take  as  landmarks  by  reference  to  wliich  we  may  place 
other  social  forms.  These  types  may  co-exist  as  constituent 
parts  of  a  larger  order,  or  may  be  blended  with  one  another  in 
various  ways.  It  follows  that  we  cannot  say  that  one  of  these 
forms  succeeds  another  in  serial  order  as  we  ascend  the  scale  of 
culture.  The  history  of  society,  unfortunately,  is  not  so  simple. 
All  that  we  can  say  with  some  confidence  is  that  the  three 
prmciples  distinguished  and  the  forms  of  social  union  arising 
out  of  them  preponderate  at  successive  stages  in  the  order 
named.  That  is  to  say,  that  the  lowest  form  of  social  organiza- 
tion is  the  group  loosely  connected  with  other  groups  of  the 
same  tribe ;  that  at  a  somewhat  higher  stage  tribal  govern- 
m.ent  develops ;  that  above  these  societies  are  found  organized 
kingdoms;  and  that  the  "state"  in  the  true  sense  is  developed 
only  among  peoples  of  the  highest  civilization.  There  is,  as 
it  were,  a  mea^n  point  in  the  scale  of  social  advance  belonging 
to  each  principle,  and  though  it  extends  far  above  and  far 
below  we  place  the  principle  in  the  series  by  referring  it  to 
this  point. 


CHAPTER  III 

LAW   AND   JUSTICE 

1.  To  the  civilized  man  it  seems  the  merest  truism  to  say  that 
the  business  of  Government  is  to  make  and  execute  laws,  to  see 
that  crime  is  suppressed,  and  that  its  subjects  are  maintained  in 
possession  of  their  just  rights.  Not  only  so,  but  the  broad  lines 
upon  which  justice  is  administered  are  to  him  so  familiar  and 
seem  so  clearly  marked  out  by  reason  and  common  sense  that  if 
he  were  to  think  of  their  origin  at  all  he  would  naturally  imagine 
that  here,  if  anywhere,  we  had  to  do  with  simple  and  elementary 
moral  ideas,  implanted  in  men  by  nature,  and  needing  no  training 
nor  experience  to  perfect  them.  Thus,  what  could  be  more 
obvious,  to  begin  with,  than  the  distinction  of  civil  and  criminal 
justice  ?  A  may  trespass  upon  the  rights  of  B,  but  he  may  do 
so  without  fraud,  violence,  or  any  criminal  intent.  In  such 
cases  the  loss  suffered  by  B  must  be  made  good,  but  no  further 
punishment  should  fall  upon  A.  That  is,  there  is  ground  for  a 
civil  action.  Or,  on  the  other  hand,  in  injuring  B,  A  may  have 
committed  an  offence  against  the  social  order.  In  that  case  he 
must  be  punished  as  a  criminal,  and  is  not  to  escape  merely  by 
making  good  the  loss  inflicted  on  B.  He  has  offended  society, 
and  society  insists  on  punishing  him.  But,  further,  if  A  is  a 
wrong-doer,  it  must  be  proved  that  he  is  a  responsible  agent. 
He  must  have  done  wrong  with  intention,  and,  if  so,  he  alone 
ought  to  suffer.  Socially,  no  doubt,  his  fall  must  affect  his 
innocent  wife  and  children,  but  this  is  a  regrettable  result,  not 
a  consequence  which  the  law  goes  about  to  inflict.  Lastly, 
whether  in  a  civil  or  criminal  case,  the  function  of  the  law  is  to 
set  up  an  impartial  authority,  before  whom  the  question  is 
argued.  Both  sides  are  heard.  Evidence  is  cited,  and  witnesses 
called,  whose  testimony  the  court  is  free  to  sift  and  weigh. 
Formalities  and  rules  have  to  be  observed,  but  apart,  perhaps, 
from  some  which  are  archaic,  they  are  devised  mainly  as  safe- 
guards against  wrongful  decisions,  and  the  real  business  of  the 
inquiry  is  to  get  at  truth  as  to  the  material  facts.  In  the  end, 
the  decision  being  given,  the  court  can  freely  use  the  executive 
power  of  Government  to  enforce  it. 

70 


LAW  AND  JUSTICE  71 

Elementary  as  all  this  sounds,  it  is,  historically  speaking,  the 
result  of  a  long  evolution.  The  distinction  between  civil  and 
criminal  law,  the  principle  of  strictly  individual  responsibility, 
the  distinction  between  the  intentional  and  the  unintentional, 
the  conception  of  the  court  as  an  impartial  authority  to  try 
the  merits  of  the  case,  the  exclusive  reliance  on  evidence  and 
testimony,  the  preference  of  material  to  formal  rectitude,  the 
execution  of  the  court's  decision  by  a  public  force — all  are 
matters  very  imperfectly  understood  by  primitive  peoples,  and 
their  definite  establishment  is  the  result  of  a  slow  liistorical 
process.  Perhaps  no  other  department  of  comparative  ethics 
gives  so  vivid  an  idea  of  the  difficulty  which  humanity  has 
found  in  establishing  the  simple  elements  of  a  just  social  order. 

2.  The  growth  of  law  and  justice  is  pretty  closely  connected  in 
its  several  stages  with  the  forms  of  social  organization  that  have 
been  described.  In  some  of  the  lower  races  there  is,  it  would 
appear,  scarcely  anything  that  is  strictty  to  be  called  the  adminis- 
tration of  justice.  Private  wrongs  are  revenged  by  private 
individuals,  and  any  one  whom  they  can  get  to  help  them.  The 
neighbours  interfere  in  the  least  possible  degree,  and  how  fa.r  a 
man's  family,  or  the  wider  group  to  which  he  belongs,  will  stand 
by  him,  is  a  question  which  is  decided  in  each  particular  case 
as  its  own  merits,  or  the  inclinations  of  those  concerned,  direct.^ 

1  Take  as  an  example  the  Andamanese,  who  Hve  in  small  communities 
numbering  from  twenty  to  fifty  individuals,  and  have  no  distinct  institu- 
tions for  the  maintenance  of  order  or  the  settlement  of  disputes.  Each 
group,  indeed,  has  a  chief,  but  his  powers  are  extremely  limited,  extending 
to  little  beyond  the  right  of  calling  the  people  together  and  exercising  over 
them  what  influence  he  can.  There  is  no  form  of  covenant,  no  oath,  no 
form  of  trial,  no  ordeal.  Justice  is  left  altogether  to  the  aggrieved  party, 
who  shoots  an  arrow  at  his  enemy  or  throws  a  burning  faggot  at  him,  the 
neighbours  playing  their  part  in  the  matter  by  running  away  until  the 
quarrel  is  over,  which  at  any  rate  prevents  the  spread  of  the  mischief. 
The  law  of  vengeance  is  not  developed.  A  relative  may  avenge  the  death 
of  a  murdered  man,  but  it  is  not  necessary  that  anything  should  happen. 
The  neighbours  are  afraid  of  the  murderer,  and  he  finds  it  desirable  to 
absent  himself  for  a  while.  Not  uncommonly  a  man  will  show  his  resent- 
ment, not  by  punishing  the  wrong-doer,  but  by  destroying  all  the  property 
that  he  can  lay  hands  upon,  including  his  own.  The  chief's  property  alone 
will  be  respected.  In  other  words,  the  Andaman  islander,  like  the  Malay, 
is  apt  to  run  amok,  and  such  men  are  not  resisted  because  they  are  held 
to  be  possessed.  Conjugal  fidelity  among  this  monogamous  people  is 
enforced  by  the  husband,  but  in  pvuiishing  the  guilty  party  he  runs  the 
risk  of  retaliation.  There  appears,  however,  says  Mr.  Man,  to  be  an 
understanding  that  the  greater  the  provocation  offered,  the  less  is  the  risk 
incurred  by  the  injvired  person  or  his  friends,  in  avenging  the  wrong — a 
sentiment  which  very  aptly  characterizes  the  degree  in  which  justice  is 
recognized  as  a  public  matter  at  this  stage  of  social  development.  There 
is  no  definite  redress,  but  an  injured  man  may  hope  to  carry  the  support 


72  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

But  even  at  a  very  low  stage  this  uncertain  and  fitful  action 
begins  to  take  more  definite  shape.  There  are  two  possible 
lines  of  development,  and  it  will  be  convenient  to  begin  by  tracing 
them  separately,  though  in  actual  fact  they  are  intertwined. 
On  the  one  hand,  the  method  of  self -redress  may  be  organized 
and  reduced  to  system  under  a  regular  code  of  recognized  custom. 
On  the  other,  the  maintenance  of  order,  the  settlement  of  disputes, 
the  punishment  of  offences,  and  the  redress  of  wrongs  may  be 
undertaken,  partially  or  completely  as  the  case  may  be,  by  the 
community  acting  through  its  leading  men,  its  chief,  or,  finally, 
through  a  regularly  constituted  organ  for  the  admmistration  of 
justice. 

3.  As  a  system  vengeance,  like  other  systems,  is  a  product 
of  development.  On  the  whole  we  hear  less  of  it  among  the  most 
"  primitive  "  men  than  among  those  which  stand  somewhat 
higher.  Many  of  the  jungle  people  of  Asia,  living  under  the 
simplest  conditions  possible,  appear  to  be  peaceful,  gentle  folk, 
quarrellmg  and  fighting  but  little  among  themselves,  and  if  they 
have  no  regular  law  or  government,  scarcely  seeming  to  feel  the 
need.i  In  such  little  groups,  where  society  can  hardly  be  said 
to  extend  beyond  the  circle  of  the  near  kin,  all  well  known  to 
Dne  another  and  standing  in  definite  personal  relations,  the  con- 

of  the  neighbours  with  him  in  rough  proportion  to  the  strength  of  his 
case.  Injuries  done  by  a  member  of  another  tribe  lead  to  more  regular 
feuds  and  are  avenged,  if  possible,  by  a  night  attack  upon  the  neighbouiiiig 
camp,  which,  if  successful,  results  in  the  slaughter  of  the  males  and  the 
destruction  or  appropriation  of  the  property  of  the  vanquished.  The 
women  of  the  enemy,  it  may  be  noted,  are  not  deliberately  killed ;  at  any 
rate,  their  death  is  not,  as  among  some  more  advanced  peoples,  a  matter 
for  boasting ;  and  the  child  captive  wovild  be  treated  kindly  with  a  view 
to  its  adoption  by  the  captors'  tribe.  Cannibalism,  the  frequent  con- 
comitant of  savage  warfare,  is  held  in  horror,  but  is  attributed  by  the 
southern  Andamanese  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  northern  island  (E.  H. 
Man,  Journal  of  the  Anthropological  Institute,  vol.  xii.  p.  108  seq.). 

^  Thus  the  Punans  of  Borneo,  who  support  themselves  on  the  wild 
products  of  the  jungle  and  have  no  house,  but  a  shelter  of  palm  leaves 
supported  on  sticks,  live  in  small  communities  of  twenty  to  thirty  adults, 
for  the  most  part  near  relatives,  under  the  mild  and  unauthoritative 
leadership  of  one  of  the  older  men.  "  He  dispenses  no  substantial  punish- 
ments," and  if  one  or  more  of  hie  band  are  displeased  with  him,  they 
withdraw  and  form  another  band.  The  Punan  will  avenge  the  murder 
of  a  relative,  but  he  seems  rarely  to  fight  with  other  Punans,  unless  insti- 
gated by  the  more  civilized  village  people  with  whom  he  maintains  relations 
(Hose  and  McDougall,  ii.  180-183).  Most  of  the  Eskimo,  and  some  other 
peoples  of  the  North-West,  are  verj-  peaceable.  Among  the  Point  Barrow 
Eskimo,  Murdoch  witnessed  no  quarrel  in  two  5rears  residence  [R.  B.  E., 
1887,  p.  41).  In  some  cases,  among  the  Western  Eskimo,  quarrels  are 
settled  by  a  boxing  match  (Bancroft,  p.  65). 


LAW  AND  JUSTICE  73 

sequences  of  any  quarrel  must  depend  mainly  on  the  character 
of  individitals  and  particularly  on  the  resoluteness  or  weakness 
of  the  older  men  who  take  the  lead.  Such  societies,  of  course, 
have  their  customs,  which  are  doubtless  felt  as  binding  by  their 
members,  but  if  we  mean  by  law  a  body  of  rules  enforced  by  an 
authority  independent  of  personal  ties  of  kinship  and  friend- 
ship, such  an  institution  is  not  compatible  with  their  social 
organization.  They  may  be  more  fairly  characterized  negatively 
by  saying  that  they  know  no  law  in  our  sense,  than  positively 
by  attributing  to  them  the  custom  of  self -redress. 

Other  tribes  equally  primitive  are  less  peaceable.  Among 
the  Lower  Calif ornians  "  every  man  is  his  own  master  and 
administers  justice  in  the  form  of  vengeance  as  best  he  is  able.^ 
Among  the  Botocudos,  Zu  Wied  gives  a  graphic  account  of  the 
rise  of  a  quarrel — how  it  begins,  perhaps,  with  a  father  striking 
a  child,  how  its  mother  rushes  to  protect  it,  he  turns  upon  her 
and  her  brother  comes  to  her  help.  Presently  both  families  are 
engaged  with  the  relatives  on  both  sides,  and  the  affair  assumes 
the  proportions  of  a  feud.^  It  is,  in  fact,  through  the  bond  of 
kindred  that  retaliation  develops  into  a  system,  and  we  find  it 
at  its  height  where  a  number  of  kindreds  live  together,  inter- 
marrying, forming  one  society,  even  recognizing  a  common 
government  for  certain  purposes,  but  each  retaining  jealously 
the  right  of  protecting  its  members.  The  leading  characteristics 
of  this  stage  of  development  are  two — (1)  that  redress  is  obtamed 
by  retaliation,  and  (2)  that  owing  to  the  solidarity  of  the  family 
the  sufferer  will  find  support  in  obtaining  the  redress  that  he 
seeks.  The  individual  man,  woman  or  child  no  longer  stands 
by  himself  or  herself,  but  can  count  with  considerable  certainty 
on  the  protection  of  his  relatives,  who  are  bound  to  avenge  a 
wrong  done  to  him,  or  to  stand  by  him  in  exacting  vengeance, 
by  every  tie  of  honour  and  religion.  Thus  vengeance  develops 
into  the  blood  feud.  "  He  that  sheddeth  man's  blood,  by  man 
shall  his  blood  be  shed,"  is  the  earliest  law  given  in  the  Old 
Testament,  and  on  this  point  the  Old  Testament  may  be  said  to 
be  a  faithful  reflection  of  the  historical  facts. 

Though  the  blood  feud  is  an  expression  of  vengeance,  this 
vengeance  is  by  no  means  wholly  without  regulations  and  rules 
of  its  own.  There  is  a  rough  justice  recognizable  in  its  working, 
though  it  is  not  the  justice  of  an  impartial  third  person  surveying 
the  facts  as  a  whole.  There  is  no  question  of  a  just  judge  render- 
ing each  man  his  due,  but  rather  of  a  united  kin  sympathizing 
with  the  resentment  of  an  injured  relation  when  expressing  itself  in 
1  Bancroft,  p.  564.  *  Zu  Wied,  vol.  ii.  p.  43. 


n  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

certain  traditional  forms.  Justice  as  we  understand  it — the  ren- 
dering to  each  man  his  due  as  judged  by  an  impartial  authority — 
is  not  distinctly  conceived  as  a  social  duty  in  primitive  ethics, 
and  that  is  what,  morally  speakmg,  differentiates  the  primitive 
ethical  consciousness  from  the  ethical  consciousness  at  a  higher 
stage  of  development.  Yet  primitive  ethics  works  upon  rules 
in  which  a  certain  mea-sure  of  justice  is  embodied.  Thus,  in  the 
first  place,  custom  prescribes  certain  rules  of  retaliation  which 
are  recognized  as  right  and  proper  and  have  the  approval  of  the 
neighbours  and  clansmen.  The  simplest  and  earliest  of  these 
rules  is  the  famous  Lex  Talionis,  "  An  eye  for  an  eye,  and  a 
tooth  for  a  tooth,"  familiar  to  us  from  the  chapter  of  Exodus, 
but  far  earlier  than  Exodus  in  its  first  formulation.  We  find  it, 
like  many  other  primitive  rules  of  law,  in  the  recently  discovered 
code  of  King  Hammurabi,^  which  is  earlier  than  the  Book  of  the 
Covenant  perhaps  by  1300  years,  and  we  find  it  at  the  present 
day  among  people  sociologically  at  an  earlier  stage  of  develop- 
ment than  the  Babylonians  of  the  third  millennium  before  Christ. 
We  find  it  applicable  to  bodily  injuries, ^  to  breaches  of  the 
marriage  law,^  and  perhaps  we  may  say  in  the  rules  of  the  two- 
fold restitution  for  theft  and  in  the  symbolic  form  of  mutilating 
the  offending  member  even  to  the  case  of  offences  against  pro- 
perty.* In  some  cases  the  idea  of  exact  retaliation  is  carried 
out  with  the  utmost  literalness — a  grotesque  literalness  some- 
times, as  when  a  man  who  has  killed  another  by  falling  on  him 
from  a  tree  is  himself  put  to  death  by  exactly  the  same  method — 
a  relation  of  the  deceased  solemnly  mounting  the  tree  and,  much 
one  would  say  at  his  own  risk,  descending  upon  the  offender.^ 
More  often,  of  course,  vengeance  is  simpler.  Stripes,  mutilation 
or  death  are  inflicted  without  any  attempt  to  imitate  the  original 

^  Hammurabi,  §  195.  If  a  man  has  struck  his  father,  his  hands  one 
shall  cut  off. 

196.  If  a  man  has  caused  the  loss  of  a  patrician's  eye,  his  eye  one  shall 
cause  to  be  lost. 

197.  If  he  has  shattered  a  patrician's  limb,  one  shall  shatter  his  linib. 
200.  If  a  man  has  made  the  tooth  of  a  man  that  is  his  equal  to  fall  out, 

one  shall  make  his  tooth  fall  out,  etc. 

*  See  instances  in  Post,  ii.  240,  241. 

^  The  adulterer  has  to  yield  his  own  wife  to  the  injured  husband  {loc.  cit., 
cf.  Waitz,  iv.  361). 

The  thief  loses  eye  or  hand.  Similarly  the  adulterer  or  ravisher  may 
be  castrated — and  with  this  we  nnay  perhaps  compare  the  punishment  of 
the  unchaste  wife  by  prostitution,  as  among  the  Kamilaroi  (Howitt,  p.  207). 
Cf.  Fraser,  Tribes  of  N.  S.  Wales,  p.  39.  The  perjurer  loses  his  tongue 
or  the  "  schwurfinger  "  (Post,  I.  c). 

^  In  the  Leges  Henrici,  Pollock  and  Maitland,  vol.  ii.  pp.  470,  471. 
Mutilation  is  punished  by  retaliation  among  the  Barea  and  Kunama,  the 
Wliydah,  Bogos,  and  Congo  people  (Post,  ii.  241). 


LAW  AND  JUSTICE  76 

offence,  though  there  may  very  well  be  a  grading  of  the  vengeance 
in  proportion  to  the  original  wrong.  The  homicide  is  slain,  the 
adulterer  speared,  beaten,  or  mutilated,  the  thief  slain,  enslaved 
or  forced  to  make  restitution,  the  defaulting  debtor  enslaved  or 
flogged.^ 

4.  But  at  a  fairly  early  stage  in  the  growth  of  social  order  a 
fresh  principle  is  introduced  tending  to  mitigate  the  blood  feud 
and  so  maintain  peace  and  harmony.  For  the  special  vice  of  the 
system  of  retaliation  is  that  it  provides  no  machinery  for  bring- 
ing the  quarrel  to  an  end.  If  one  of  the  Bear  totem  is  killed  by 
a  Hawk,  the  Hawk  must  be  killed  by  one  of  the  Bears,  but  it  by 
no  means  follows  that  this  will  end  the  matter,  for  the  Hawks 
may  now  stand  b}^  their  murdered  clansman  and  take  the  life  of 
a  second  Bear  in  revenge,  and  so  the  game  goes  on,  and  we  have 
a  true  course  of  vendetta.  Accordingly,  peaceable  souls,  with  a 
view  to  the  welfare  of  both  families,  perhaps  with  the  broader 
view  of  happiness  and  harmony  within  the  community,  intervene 
with  a  suggestion  of  peace.  Let  the  injured  Bea.rs  take  com- 
pensation in  another  form,  let  them  take  cattle  or  other  things 
to  make  good  the  loss  of  the  pair  of  hands  which  served  them. 
In  a  word,  let  the  payment  of  damages  be  a  salve  to  vindictive 
feehngs.  In  that  way  the  incident  may  came  to  an  end  and 
peace  will  reign.^     When  such  a  practice  becomes  a  customary 

1  e.  g.  among  the  Cherokees  the  defaulting  debtor  was  tied  to  a  tree  and 
flogged  (Waitz,  iii.  131).  In  other  tribes  disputes  as  to  money  matters 
were  regulated  by  arbitrators  chosen  by  the  conflicting  parties.  Those 
who  were  prevented  by  illness  or  any  real  obstacle  from  paying  their 
debts,  were  not  compelled  to  do  so,  but  those  who  could  pay  and  did  not 
fell  into  general  contempt. 

2  Among  the  Australians  we  have  a  still  simpler  and  ruder  form  of 
atonement,  suited  to  the  low  economic  development  of  the  people.  The 
offender  must  give  satisfaction  in  kind,  e.  g.  having  injured  a  man  he  must 
submit  hiinself  to  a  blow  on  the  head  or  a  spear  thrust.  Thus,  among 
the  Whayook,  should  a  man  wound  a  fellow  tribesman,  custom  requires 
him  to  present  himself  to  the  sufferer  for  a  similar  wound  (Curr,  The 
Australian  Race,  vol.  i.  p.  339).  Among  the  Koynup  and  Etecup  he  must 
allow  himself  to  be  speared  on  the  leg  (ib.,  p.  349).  Among  the  Milya 
Uppa  any  "  complaint  "  is  wiped  out  by  tho  offender  allowing  the  sufferer 
to  strike  him  on  his  head  (J.  A.  Reid,  in  Curr,  vol.  ii.  p.  179).  Similarly 
among  the  Geawegal,  Waimbio,  Wurunjerri,  etc.  In  many  cases,  too, 
wrongs  by  a  member  of  one  local  group  upon  another  are  wiped  out  by 
the  offender  standing  a  spear-throwing  ordeal  in  the  presence  of  both 
parties ;  e.  g.  among  the  Yuin  (Howitt,  p.  342,  where,  though  it  was  a 
case  of  homicide,  the  avengers  were  satisfied  with  the  first  drawing  of 
blood).  Generally  Messrs.  Spencer  and  Gillen  remark  that  a  savage  re- 
gards any  offence  as  wiped  out  by  a  suitable  proffer  of  atonement  (Northern 
Tribes,  p.  31).  This  form  of  atonement  leads,  as  we  shall  see  later,  to  a 
certain  amount  of  public  or  quasi -public  intervention. 


76  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

institution  we  enter  upon  the  stage  of  composition  for  offences, 
a  stage  peculiarly  characteristic  of  the  settling  down  of  barbarous 
tribes  into  a  peaceable  and  relatively  civilized  state,  and  especially 
of  the  growth  of  the  power  of  a  chief  whose  influence  is  often 
exerted  to  enforce  the  expedient  of  composition  upon  a  reluctant 
and  revengeful  family.^  As  the  institution  takes  shape  a  regular 
tariff  is  introduced,  so  much  for  an  injury,  so  much  for  the  loss 
of  an  eye,  so  much  for  a  life.  Often  a  distinction  between  classes 
of  crime  appears.  For  some  it  is  the  rule  that  composition 
should  be  accepted.  Others  are  recognized  as  too  grave  to  be 
washed  out  except  by  blood.  Thus,  among  the  German  tribes, 
murder  and  rape  excited  blood  revenge,  while  other  injuries  were 
punishable  by  fine,  and  the  fine  is  significantly  called  "  faida," 
as  being  the  feud  commuted  for  money. ^  The  distinction 
lasted  into  the  Middle  Ages,  even  in  a  period  when  the  fine  or  a 
part  of  it  went  to  the  king.  Our  Leges  Henrici  still  distinguish 
emendable  offences,  in  which  sacrilege  and  wilful  homicide  with- 
out treachery  are  included,  from  unemendable  offences  such  as 
housebreaking,  arson,  open  theft,  aggravated  homicide,  treason 
against  one's  lord,  and  breach  of  the  church's  or  the  king's  peace. ^ 
These  are  crimes  which  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  term  had  no  bot — 
no  b6t  or  money  payment  atoned  for  them — they  were  bot-less, 
boot-less.  Even  when  the  bot  was  payable  it  stood  at  first  at 
the  discretion  of  the  injured  family  to  accept  or  reject  it,  and  we 
fi.nd  the  Germanic  codes  in  the  early  Middle  Ages  setting  them- 
selves to  insist  on  its  acceptance  as  a  means  of  keeping  the  peace.* 
If  the  fine  is  not  forthcoming,  of  course  the  feud  holds. 

1  But  it  originates  much  earlier.  We  do  not,  indeed,  find  it  except  in 
the  Australian  form  of  the  expiatory  encounter  among  the  Lower  Hunters, 
but  we  have  twenty-five  instances  among  the  Higher  Hmiters  (Simpler 
Peoples,  p.  80).  The  principle  extends  to  tribes  standing  as  low  as  the 
Central  Californians,  e.  g.  among  the  Patawat,  the  murder  of  a  man  was 
punished  by  a  fine  of  shell  money — ten  strings  for  a  man,  five  for  a  squaw 
(Powers,  p.  98). 

2  Waitz,  Deutsche  Verfassungsgeschichfe,  i.  437,  who,  however,  denies 
that  the  fine  was  a  merely  buying  off  of  revenge. 

*  Post,  Afrikanische  Jurisprudenz,  ii.  30,  gives  a  list  of  ten  African 
peoples  in  which  composition  is  allowed  for  all  offences.  In  three  others 
it  is  allowed  for  all  cases  except  the  gravest,  such  as  murder ;  among  the 
Kimbundas,  for  all  except  sorcery  and  treason ;  among  the  Barolong  for 
all  except  rebellion,  and  among  the  Kaffirs  for  all  except  treason,  sorcery, 
and  sometimes  murder.  In  mediaeval  England  there  was  much  local 
variation  in  the  fines.  At  Lewes  the  fine  for  bloodshed  was  7/4,  for 
adultery  8/4,  the  man  paying  the  king,  the  woman  the  archbishop.  In 
Shropshire  the  fine  for  bloodshed  was  40/-.  In  Worcestershire  rape  was 
not  emendable  (Pollock  and  Maitland,  ii.  457). 

*  Charlemagne's  capitulary  of  802  forbids  the  kin  to  increase  the  evil 
by  refusing  peace  to  the  manslaj'er  v>'lio  craves  it  (Jenks,  Law  and  Politics, 
p.  102).     In  England,  down  to  the  nintli  and  tenth  centuries,  the  aggressor 


LAW  AND  JUSTICE  77 

But  when  injuries  are  being  assessed,  not  only  must  there  be 
a  distinction  between  the  injuries  themselves,  but  also  between 
the  persons  injured.  There  must  be  a  distinction  of  rank,  age, 
sex;  a  free-born  man  is  worth  more  than  a  slave,  a  grown-up 
person  than  a  child,  generally  speaking  a  man  than  a  woman,  a 
chief  or  person  of  rank  than  a  free  man.  And  so  we  have  the 
system  of  "  wergilds  "  familiar  to  us  in  the  early  stages  of  our 
own  history ,1  and  agam  recognizable  in  the  code  of  Hammurabi. ^ 

might  elect  to  bear  the  blood  feud,  but  by  an  ordinance  of  Alfred,  the 
injured  party  might  have  the  help  of  the  ealdorman  to  enforce  payment 
(Pollock  and  Maitland,  i.  47). 

1  Among  the  Germanic  peoples,  in  the  early  mediaeval  period,  the 
wergild  of  a  noble  was  generally  double  that  of  a  free  man.  A  post  in 
the  King's  service  trebled  the  wergild  of  the  official's  hereditary  rank. 
The  Liti  (Horige)  had,  as  a  rule,  half  the  wer  of  free  men,  whilst  slaves, 
according  to  strict  principle  had  none,  but  only  a  valuation.  In  fact, 
however,  some  barbarian  codes  assigned  them  half  the  wer  of  a  litvis 
(Schroder,  pp.  345,  346). 

^  Hammiu-abi  illustrates  two  subsidiary  points.  (1)  An  offence  against 
a  man  of  higher  rank  may  be  iinemendable  {i.  e.  punished  by  retaliation), 
while  the  same  offence  against  a  man  of  lower  rank  is  commutable.  (2)  The 
rank  of  the  aggressor  may  influence  the  punishment  as  well  as  that  of  the 
sufferer.  Injuries  to  eye  or  limb  of  a  patrician  are  punished  by  retalia- 
tion (sections  196,  197),  but  in  section  198,  "  If  he  has  caused  a  poor  man 
to  lose  his  eye  or  shattered  a  plebeian's  limb,  he  shall  pay  one  mina  of 
silver."  Further,  by  section  199,  the  slave  has  no  wer — for  the  same  injury 
the  aggressor  "  shall  pay  half  his  price."  Similarly  for  the  loss  of  a  tooth 
(sections  200,  201).    The  provisions  for  assault  and  homicide  are  as  follows — 

202.  If  a  man  has  struck  the  strength  of  a  man  who  is  great  above 
him,  he  shall  be  struck  in  the  assembly  with  sixty  strokes  of  a  cow-hide 
whip. 

203.  If  a  man  of  gentle  birth  has  struck  the  privates  of  a  man  of  gentle 
birth,  who  is  like  himself,  he  shall  pay  one  mina  of  silver. 

204.  If  a  poor  man  has  struck  the  strength  of  a  plebeian,  he  shall  pay 
ten  shekels  of  silver. 

205.  If  a  patrician's  servant  has  struck  the  strength  of  a  free  man,  one 
shall  cut  off  his  ear. 

206.  If  a  man  has  struck  a  man  in  a  quarrel,  and  has  caused  him  a 
wound,  that  man  shall  swear,  "  I  do  not  strike  him  knowing,"  and  shall 
answer  for  the  doctor. 

207.  If  he  has  died  of  his  blows,  he  shall  swear,  and  if  he  be  of  gentle 
birth  he  shall  pay  half  a  mina  of  silver. 

208.  If  he  be  the  son  of  a  plebeian,  he  shall  pay  one-third  of  a  mina  of 
silver. 

209.  If  a  man  has  struck  a  patrician's  daughter  and  caused  her  to  drop 
what  is  in  her  womb,  he  shall  pay  ten  shekels  of  silver  for  what  was  in 
her  womb. 

210.  If  that  woman  has  died,  one  shall  put  to  death  his  davighter. 

211.  If  the  daughter  of  a  plebeian  through  his  blows  he  has  caused  to 
drop  that  which  is  in  her  womb,  he  shall  pay  five  shekels  of  silver. 

212.  If  that  woman  has  died,  he  shall  pay  half  a  mina  of  silver. 

213.  If  he  has  struck  a  patrician's  maidservant  and  caused  her  to  drop 
that  which  is  in  her  womb,  he  shall  pay  tv.-o  shekels  of  silver. 

214.  If  that  maidservant  has  died,  he  shall  pay  one-third  of  a  mina  of 
silver. 


78  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

In  one  form  or  another  the  system  of  composition  prevails  or 
has  prevailed  almost  to  this  day  over  a  great  part  of  the  barbaric 
world,  among  the  North  American  Indians,^  in  the  Malay  Archi- 
pelago," in  New  Guinea,  among  the  Indian  hill  tribes,  among  the 
Calmucks  and  Kirghis  of  the  steppes  of  Asia,  among  the  rude 
tribes  of  the  Caucasus,  the  Bedouin  of  the  Arabian  desert,  the 
Somali  of  East  Africa,  the  negroes  of  the  West  Coast,  the  Congo 
folk  of  the  interior,  the  Kaffirs  and  Basutos  of  the  South,* 

5.  Organized  vengeance,  then,  may  be  exacted  by  retaliation 
or  compounded  by  money  payments.  In  either  method  a  rough 
Justice  is  embodied,  but  it  is  justice  enforced  by  the  strong  hand. 
Even  graver  differences  separating  barbaric  vengeance  from 
civilized  justice  have  now  to  be  mentioned.     These  differences  are 

218.  If  the  doctor  has  treated  a  patrician  for  a  severe  wovmd  with  a 
lancet  of  bronze  and  has  caused  that  patrician  to  die,  or  has  opened  an 
abscess  of  the  eye  for  a  patrician  with  the  bronze  lancet  and  has  caused 
the  loss  of  the  patrician's  eye,  one  shall  cut  off  his  hands. 

219.  If  a  doctor  has  treated  the  severe  wound  of  a  slave  of  a  poor  man 
with  a  bronze  lancet  and  has  caused  his  death,  he  shall  render  slave  for 
slave. 

220.  If  he  has  opened  his  abscess  with  a  bronze  lancet  and  has  made  him 
lose  his  eye,  he  shall  pay  money,  half  his  price. 

^  Kohler,  Zeitschrift  fur  vergl.  Rechtswissenschaft,  1897,  pp.  406,  407; 
Alvord  in  Schoolcraft,  v.  653;  Morgan,  League  of  the  Iroquois,  331,  332. 
(Failing  a  present  of  a  belt  of  white  wampum  the  family  of  the  deceased 
appointed  an  avenger.) 

*  Waitz,  V.  p.  i.  143.  The  wergild  varies  from  200  to  1000  gulden, 
according  to  the  rank  of  the  dead  man.  In  case  of  poison,  the  poisoner 
becomes  the  slave  of  the  family.  A  paramour  may  be  enslaved  by  the 
husband  if  taken  in  the  act,  but  if  the  matter  is  brought  before  a  court, 
money  compensation  must  be  accepted. 

*  Post,  ii.  256,  257.  In  the  lower  grades  of  culture  the  practice 
extends,  as  might  be  supposed,  with  the  economic  development.  Com- 
paring Composition  with  Retaliation,  we  find  the  following  figures  (the 
expiatory  encounters  are  omitted.  The  two  columns  do  not  represent 
separate  individual  cases,  composition  and  retaliation  usually  being 
optional  alternatives) — 

Lower  Hunters 

Higher  Hunters 
Incipient  Agriculttire 
Pastoral 
Agriculture  . 
Higher  Pastoral 
Higher  Agriculture 

(Simpler  Peoples,  p.  80). 

As  public  justice  develops,  composition  is  first  enforced.  Then  it  takes 
the  form  of  the  assignment  of  a  fine  to  the  injured  party  by  a  court.  Then 
all  compounding  is  suppressed  and  even  becomes  criminal.  A  court  may 
award  civil  damages  for  the  wrong,  but  will  inflict  his  due  punishment  on 
the  offender  in  addition. 


illation. 

Composition 

44 

6 

50 

25 

17 

14 

9 

10 

59 

43 

8 

9 

43 

49 

LAW  AND  JUSTICE  79 

inherent  in  the  nature  of  the  social  organization  upon  which  the 
blood  feud  rests.  For  the  blood  feud  is  retribution  exercised  by 
a  family  upon  a  family;  it  rests  upon  the  support  which  each 
individual  can  count  upon  from  his  own  immediate  relations, 
possibly  from  his  whole  clan;  it  rests,  in  a  word,  upon  the 
solidarity  of  the  kindred.  But  the  effect  of  this  solidarity  upon 
the  working  of  retributive  justice  is  by  no  means  wholly  favour- 
able. In  the  first  place,  it  has  the  effect  that  the  lives  of  mem- 
bers of  other  clans  are  held  indifferent.  A  perfect  illustration  is 
afforded  by  the  Angami  Nagas,  a  tribe  of  the  north-east  frontier 
of  India  who  live  in  villages  composed  of  two  or  more  "  khels," 
as  their  clans  are  called,  which,  though  living  side  by  side  and 
intermarrying,  are  for  purposes  of  defence  independent  com- 
munities. A  hostile  tribe  may  descend  upon  the  village  and 
massacre  all  the  members  of  one  "  khel  "  while  the  other  "  khels  " 
sleep  peacefully  in  their  beds  and  do  not  raise  hand  or  foot  to 
protect  their  neighbours.  This  is  cold-blooded,  but  it  is  not 
without  a  certain  reason.  The  extermmated  "  khel  "  has  in- 
curred a  feud  from  which  the  others  are  free.  If  they  rise  in 
its  defence  they  not  only  incur  the  danger  of  the  present  fight, 
but  they  also  involve  themselves  in  the  permanent  feud.^  Next, 
in  so  far  as  justice  rests  on  the  blood  feud,  and  the  blood  feud  is 
of  the  nature  of  a  private  war  between  distinct  families  or  clans, 
it  follows  that  offences  within  the  clan  are  a  matter  for  the  clan 
only  and  not  for  society  as  a  whole.  As  a  rule  we  hear  little 
about  them,  partly  because,  no  doubt,  they  are  rarer,^  but  mainly 
because  they  do  not  excite  a  feud  and  do  not,  therefore,  affect  the 
social  order  as  a  whole.  But  that  they  stand  in  quite  a  different 
category  from  offences  by  an  out-sider  upon  a  fellow  clansman  is 
clear  from  many  instances.  In  some  the  offender  may  escape 
very  lightly.  Thus,  among  the  Iroquois  and  Delaware,  the  kin 
would  exact  a  fine,  and  failing  a  fine,  blood-vengeance  from  a 
murderer,  but  if  a  man  murdered  one  of  his  own  relations,  he 
escaped  without  much  difficulty,  for  the  family,  who  alone  have 
the  right  to  take  revenge,  do  not  choose  to  deprive  their  race  of 
two  members  at  once.  They  rather  endeavour  to  bring  about  a 
reconciliation  and  even  justify  the  deed.^  On  the  other  hand, 
among  the  Thlinkeets,  while  murder  by  a  non-clansman  is  a 

^  Godden,  J.  A.  7.,  xxvi.  167.  Similarly  in  contemporary  Africa,  so 
far  as  blood  revenge  holds,  the  slaying  of  any  one  outside  the  clan  is  no 
more  regarded  as  wrong  than  the  killing  of  an  enemy  in  battle  among  us 
(Post,  Afrikanische  Jurisprudenz,  i.  CO). 

*  No  Omaha  ever  slew  his  "  affinity,"  says  Dorsey  {Omaha  Sociology, 
p.  369). 

3  Loskiel,  p.  21. 


80  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

matter  for  vengeance  or  composition,  a  disgraceful  act  would  be 
felt  so  keenly  by  the  man's  own  family,  that  he  might  be  degraded 
or  killed  for  it.  Here,  then,  is  something  like  impartial  justice 
within  the  kindred,  but  not  beyond  it.^  In  some  cases  the 
kindred  may  intervene  to  protect  themselves.  Thus,  among  the 
Topanaz,  if  a  man  has  killed  a  tribesman,  accidentally  or  not,  his 
kinsmen  take  him  to  those  of  the  slain  man,  who  strangle  him. 
The  two  parties  then  eat  together  and  the  affair  is  settled.  The 
motive  is  explained  by  the  fact  that  if  the  murderer  flies,  one  of 
his  near  kindred  must  atone  for  him.^  The  patria  potestas  is, 
of  course,  the  most  widely  spread  case  of  unrestrained  power 
within  a  circle  of  kindred.^ 

Apart  from  more  direct  punishment,  the  kindred  or  their  head 
have  the  effective  weapon  of  expulsion.  This  is  the  more  serious, 
because  when  there  is  no  other  protection  than  that  of  his  relatives, 
it  leaves  a  man  defenceless.  An  illustration  may  be  drawn  from 
the  early  history  of  Mohammed's  teaching,  when  the  Korais,  who 
found  that  Mohammed's  gospel  was  very  inimical  to  their  gains, 
wanted  above  all  things  to  put  him  out  of  the  way  and  made  the 
most  strenuous  efforts  to  induce  Mohammed's  uncle,  who  was 
head  of  the  clan,  to  disown  him.  Had  the  uncle  consented, 
Mohammed  would  have  been  left  without  protection  and  might 
have  been  dispatched  by  any  one  without  fear  of  consequences, 
but  till  the  death  of  the  uncle  the  clan  stood  by  him;  and  the 
leading  men  of  Mecca,  powerful  as  they  were,  were  not  bold 

1  Swanton,  p.  427. 

•  Eschwege,  vol.  i.  p.  221.  Compare  the  action  of  the  family  among  the 
Creeks  (Bartram,  Tra.  American  Ethnol.  Socy.,  1853,  pp.  66-67).  An 
interesting  case  is  recorded  by  Mr.  Teit  {Jesup  Expedition,  p.  560)  among 
the  Shushwap.  A  man  is  killed  by  two  of  his  relations  on  the  ground  that 
"he  is  conducting  himself  in  such  a  way  that  very  soon  some  one  will 
kill  him.  Then  we  shall  have  to  avenge  his  death."  They  apply  the 
homceopathic  remedy  publicly  and  without  interference — people  remarking 
that  he  is  a  bad  man.  "  His  relations  wish  to  kill  him,  he  belongs  to  them 
and  has  nothing  to  do  with  us."  However,  the  conscience  of  the  murderers 
was  clearly  not  easy,  for  they  proceed  to  challenge  every  one,  and  an  old 
woman  gets  up  and  says,  "  You  are  not  content  with  killing  your  relation 
but  also  boast  and  challenge  us,"  whereupon  the  mvu-derers  fled. 

*  But  it  must  be  noted,  conversely,  that  the  murder  of  a  parent  might 
excite  general  horror  and  even  pimishment  at  the  hands  of  unconnected 
people.  Thus,  among  the  Campas,  who  had  no  regular  goveiTiment  or 
law,  Urquhart  says  :  "It  must  not  be  supposed  that  crune  is  on  this 
account  allowed  to  go  unpunished,"  and  he  mentions  the  case  of  a  man 
who  had  murdered  his  mother  and  fled — "  At  every  hamlet  the  same 
indignation  was  expressed.  Not  an  Indian  but  would  kill  him  on  sight  " 
{Scottish  Oeogr.  Magazine,  1893,  p.  349).  A  similar  sentiment  is  hinted 
at  with  regard  to  a  man  who  gambled  away  wife  and  children  among  the 
Carriers,  but  the  authenticity  is  doubtful  (Morice,  Trs.  Canadian  Institute, 
1893,  p.  79). 


LAW  AND  JUSTICE  81 

enough  to  take  upon  themselves  a  blood  feud  with  Mohammed's 
family.^  The  fear  of  the  blood  feud  is  the  great  restraint  upon 
disorder  in  primitive  society,  and,  conversely,  he  whose  death  will 
excite  no  blood  feud  has  no  legal  protection. 

So  far  the  negative  side  of  clan  justice.  The  positive  side  has 
peculiarities  not  less  startling  to  the  modern  mind,  for  since  it 
is  a  member  of  one  body  who  has  done  a  wrong  to  a  member 
of  another  body,  the  wiiole  body  to  which  the  offending  member 
belongs  may  be  held  responsible  by  the  whole  body  to  which 
the  injured  member  belongs;  and  it  is  not  merely  the  original 
criminal  who  may  be  punished,  but  logically  any  member  of  his 
family  may  serve  as  a  substitute.  Responsibility  is  collective, 
and  therefore  also  vice^rious.  Sometimes  the  whole  family  of  the 
offender  is  destroyed  with  him.^  Sometimes  any  relation  of  the 
offender  may  suffer  for  him  vicariously.  John,  who  has  done 
the  deed,  being  out  of  reach,  primitive  vengeance  is  quite  satisfied 
with  the  life  of  Thomas,  his  son,  or  brother,  or  cousin.  Just  as 
in  the  blindness  of  v\^arfare  the  treacherous  act  of  an  enemy  is 
generalized  and  perhaps  avenged  in  the  next  battle  by  a  retalia- 
tion which  does  not  stay  to  ask  whether  it  is  falling  on  the 
innocent  or  the  guilty,  so  in  the  primitive  blood  feud.  The  wrong 
done  is  the  act  of  the  family  or  clan  to  which  the  aggressor 
belongs,  and  may  be  avenged  on  any  member  of  that  family  or 

1  Palmer,  Introduction  to  the  Koran,  pp.  24,  25.  Among  African  peoplei 
there  is,  generally  speo.king,  no  blood  feud  for  homicide  within  the  clan. 
But  among  the  South-Western  Arabs  the  parricide  is  put  to  death,  and 
for  fratricide  the  father  may  put  the  offender  to  death  or  demand  the 
blood  price  (Post,  A.  J.,  i.  63).  Among  the  Bogos  the  slayer  of  brother  or 
father  would  be  killed  on  the  spot  if  taken.  But  if  he  escapes,  his  fate 
will  depend  on  the  question  whether  his  victim  has  or  has  not  left  children. 
If  so,  they  will  take  up  the  feud.  If  not,  he  can  make  his  peace  without 
payment,  and  then  inherit  his  brother's  property  and  widow  {ib.,  ii.  60). 
In  the  Malay  region  the  murder  of  a  relative  is  dishonouring,  but  has  no 
money  penalty  (Waitz,  v.  I,  149).  For  illustrations  of  the  variety  of 
customs  under  this  head,  see  Steinnietz,  ii.  153-176,  Ostracism,  culminat- 
ing in  outlawry,  is  perhaps  the  only  punishment  known  to  the  Seri  Indians. 
The  victim  might  be  left  to  perish  unless  reinstated  by  a  display  of  prowess 
or  generosity  (McGee,  R.  B.  E.,  xvii.  273).  Expulsion  frona  the  clan  was 
the  only  punishment  among  the  Santals,  but  other  clans  would  not  take 
the  outcast  in,  so  that  his  position  was  hopeless.  Jlinor  offences  might  be 
compounded  by  giving  a  feast  (Hunter,  Indian  Empire,  p.  73,  and  Rural 
Bengal,  p.  205). 

*  e.  g.  among  the  Kaffirs,  at  Loango,  and  among  the  Earolong,  the 
relatives  are  held  responsible  for  pajTnent  by  the  accusers,  and  on  the 
Gold  Coast  the  relatives  of  the  sorcerer  are  slain  or  enslaved  along  with 
him  (Post,  A.  J.,  i.  46).  Among  some  North  American  Indians  the  family 
and  the  whole  tribe  were  held  responsible  for  a  murder  committed  by  one 
of  them  (Waitz,  iii.  132).  In  Anglo-Saxon  law  it  was  possible  for  a  family 
to  bo  enslaved  for  a  theft  bj'  tlie  father  (Pollock  and  Maitland,  i.  ~}Q). 


10%  50 


82  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

clan.^  Sometimes  the  retaliation  is  made  more  specific  by  a  fresh 
application  of  the  Lex  Talionis,  and  to  the  rule  "  eye  for  eye," 
there  is  the  pendant  "  son  for  son,  daughter  for  daughter,  slave  for 
slave,  ox  for  ox."  You  have  slain  my  son  ?  Then  the  true  and 
just  retribution  is  that  I  should  slay  yours.^  It  is  my  daughter 
who  is  slain  ?  Then  it  is  with  your  daughter  that  you  must  pay 
for  her.  Sometimes  vengeance  is  specially  directed  against  the 
chief  as  representing  the  clan.^  Sometimes  it  may  be  visited  on 
any  male,  or  even  on  any  adult  member  of  the  clan,  children 
alone  being  excluded.  Sometimes  this  last  shred  of  humanity  is 
torn  away.     The  principle  is  pushed  to  its  furthest  and  most 

^  For  instances,  see  Post,  Grundriss,  i.  230  ff.  Prof.  Tylor  instances 
the  Bedouin,  Australians,  South  Sea  Islanders,  and  Kaffirs,  as  peoplea 
among  whom  the  blood  feud  involved  the  whole  clan  {Contemp.  Review, 
1873,  p.  69).  In  some  cases  the  wergild  involved  the  slaying  of  several 
persons  for  one.  Thus,  by  Anglo-Saxon  law,  six  ceorls  must  die  for 
one  thegn  (Pollock  and  Maitland,  ji.  450).  Edmund  set  himself  to 
suppress  feuds,  forbidding  attacks  on  the  kindred  unless  they  harbour  the 
homicide.  Mohammedan  law,  while  admitting  retaliation,  restrict*  it  to  the 
offender  (Post,  loc.  cit.).  But  the  kin  are  liable  for  money  composition 
(Dareste,  p.  64).  In  many  African  tribes  a  creditor  will  seize  and  sell 
as  a  slave  any  relation  of  the  debtor's  whom  he  can  find,  or  even  any 
member  of  the  same  town.  It  is  not  surprising  to  learn  that  this  method 
of  distraint  is  a  fruitful  source  of  war  (Post,  A.  J.,  ii.  140).  A  stiil 
wilder  development  of  vicarious  revenge  is  found  in  the  Gazelle  Peninsula 
among  the  Papuas,  where  the  husband  whose  wife  has  been  stolen  goes  into 
the  bush  and  kills  the  first  man  he  meets.  This  man's  kindred  do  the  sanae 
thing,  and  the  process  is  repeated  till  the  stroke  lights  upon  the  original 
offender,  whose  goods  have  to  pay  all  the  damage  (Kohler,  Z.  d.  vgl. 
Rechtaw.,  1900,  p  381).  Cf.  a  similar  practice  in  S.  Guinea  (Post,  A.  J., 
ii.  22). 

*  The  most  astonishing  case  is  in  the  treatment  of  the  builder  in  the 
codes  of  Hammurabi,  229  :  "  If  a  builder  has  built  a  house  for  a  man  and 
has  not  mad©  strong  his  work,  and  the  hoiise  he  built  has  fallen,  and  he 
has  caused  the  death  of  the  owner  of  the  house,  that  builder  shall  be  put 
to  death. 

230.  If  he  has  caused  the  son  of  the  owner  of  the  house  to  die,  one  shall 
put  to  death  the  son  of  that  builder. 

231.  If  he  has  caused  the  slave  of  the  owner  of  the  house  to  die,  he 
shall  give  slave  for  slave  to  the  owner  of  the  house."  Though  barbaric, 
those  sections  might  have  a  use  if  suitably  posted  in  modern  suburbs. 

^  Or  the  father  or  elder  brother  may  be  the  appropriate  victim.  Among 
the  Dieri,  if  a  man  killed  another  unintentionally  in  a  fight,  his  elder  brother 
or  father  will  be  slain  some  night  by  a  Pinya  or  secretly  formed  party  of 
avengers.  He  himself  will  only  suffer  if  he  have  no  such  relative  (Gason, 
in  Brough  Smyth,  vol.  i.  p.  129).  In  West  Victoria  a  man's  brother  or 
nearest  male  relative  was  responsible  for  the  appearance  of  a  man  sum- 
moned to  stand  the  spear-throwing  ordeal,  and  if  he  fails  to  appear,  may  be 
attacked  with  boomerangs  (Dawson,  Australian  Aborigines,  p.  76).  Collins 
(History  of  N.  S.  Wales,  p.  321)  relates  a  complicated  vendetta,  a  minor 
incident  in  which  is  that  a  widow  revenges  herself  on  her  husband's 
murderer  by  killing  a  little  girl  related  to  him  and  is  not  molested,  but 
afterwards  lives  with  the  murderer  until  he  is  killed  by  one  of  her  deceased 
husband's  fries ds. 


LAW  AND  JUSTICE  83 

revolting  development  among  the  head-hunting  tribes  common  in 
South-East  Asia,  in  which  magical  ideas  combine  with  those  of 
revenge,  and  the  skull  of  the  enemy  has  a  potency  of  its  own  which 
makes  its  possession  desirable  in  itself.  The  head  of  a  child  or 
woman  of  the  hostile  body  is  no  less  coveted  an  object  than  that 
of  the  fighting  warrior,  and  is  probably  easier  to  obtain.  When 
the  principle  of  composition  arises  collective  responsibility  is  re- 
duced, by  a  less  barbarous  logic,  to  a  common  pecuniary  liability. 
The  clan  are  collectively  responsible  for  the  blood  money  due 
from  a  member,  and  by  the  same  logic  they  are  the  collective 
recipients  of  blood  money  due  to  any  member. ^  And  as  with 
blood  money  so  with  other  debts. ^  There  is  a  collective  liability — 
a  conception  which  in  this  softened  form  has  its  uses  in  the  social 
order,  and  is  in  fact  enforced  and  applied  to  the  commune — 
though  in  right  it  belongs  rather  to  the  clan — by  many  Oriental 
Governments. 3 

6.  Further,  with  the  theory  of  collective  responsibility  goes 
almost  necessarily  the  failure  to  distinguish  between  accident 
and  design.  In  the  ethics  of  organized  vengeance  the  real 
gravamen  of  a  charge  against  an  aggressor  is  that  he  has  done  an 
injury.  How  he  did  the  injury,  whether  of  set  purpose  or  by 
accident,  is  a  matter  of  less  moment.  My  son,  or  brother,  or 
cousin,  or  clansman,  is  killed;  that  is  enough  for  me;  I  must 
have  some  satisfaction  out  of  the  man  who  did  it,  and,  what  is 

^  e.  g.  among  the  Bogos  and  Bedouin  (Post,  i.  253),  and  compare  Post, 
A.  J.,  i.  45  and  ii.  35.  For  collective  claims  on  the  blood  money,  cf. 
Tacitus,  Germania  (ap.  G.  Waitz,  Deutsche  Verfaaaungsgeschichte,  i.  32), 
"  recipitque  satisf actionem  uni versa  domus." 

^  e.  g.  at  Great  Bassam  (Post,  A.  J.,  i.  45).  Among  the  Yoruba,  Tshi, 
and  Ewe  speaking  peoples,  collective  responsibility  which  formerly  applied 
generally  is  now  restricted  to  debts  (Ellis,  Yoruba- speaking  Peoples,  299). 
Cf.  Waitz,  iv.  306.  In  Yucatan  the  whole  family  is  responsible  for 
debt. 

*  And  elsewhere ;  e.  g.  at  Sierra  Leone  and  in  several  other  parts  of 
Africa,  responsibility  for  debt  extends  to  the  Commune  (Poet,  A.  J.,  i. 
75).  In  the  Malay  constitution  the  family  is  responsible  for  its  members, 
the  suku  (clan)  for  its  families,  the  village  for  its  sukus,  the  district  for  its 
villages  (Waitz,  v.  i.  141).  The  principles  of  collective  responsibility  is 
found  in  all  economic  grades  of  uncivilized  society,  but  only,  so  far  as  our 
tables  go,  in  a  minority  of  instances  (Simpler  Peoples,  p.  80).  On  the 
other  hand,  it  is  but  rarely  that  we  hear  specifically  that  vengeance  is 
limited  to  the  offender.  Our  table  therefore  gives  a  minimum.  The 
principle  tends  to  be  extended  with  the  development  of  composition,  for 
which,  very  naturally,  the  whole  family  is  made  liable.  Thus  we  find 
vicarious  vengeance  mentioned  in  "27  of  oiir  cases  among  the  Lower 
Hunters,  and  in  "17  among  the  Higher,  but  in  -38  of  the  highest  Agricul- 
tural peoples.  In  this  form,  however,  it  is  not  so  much  vicarious  vengeance 
as  liability  of  the  family  estate  for  the  tort  of  a  member. 


84  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

more,  my  family  must  have  some  satisfaction  out  of  his  family.' 
Furthermore,  the  whole  distinction  between  design  and  accident 
is  by  no  mea.ns  so  clear  to  primitive  man  as  it  is  to  us,  for  though 
it  needs  little  reflection  and  a  very  moderate  amount  of  self- 
knowledge  to  distmguish  between  what  one  has  done  one's  self 
by  accident  or  by  design,  and  a  very  moderate  degree  of  reasoning 
power  to  apply  the  distinction  to  other  men — still,  the  nascent 
reflection  of  the  savage  is  strangled  at  birth  by  the  prevailing 
theory  of  witchcraft  and  possession. ^  If  a  tree  falls  upon  a  man's 
head  the  savage  holds  that  a  spirit  guided  it.  If  a  man,  cutting 
a  branch  from  a  tree,  dropped  his  axe  on  to  another's  head,  it 
may  not  have  been  the  man's  own  soul  which  guided  the  axe,  but 
it  was  another  soul  which  possessed  him  temporarily;  he  was 
possessed  by  some  spirit,  and  as  possessed  he  should  be  put  out 
of  the  way .2  The  treatment  of  the  subject  in  the  Hebrew  codes 
illustrates  the  difficulty  which  is  experienced  even  at  a  higher 
stage  in  strictly  distinguishing  between  the  two  spheres  of  de- 
lign  and  accident.  Each  code  assigns  a  city  of  refuge  for  the 
excusable  homicide,  but  none  make  it  perfectly  clear  whether 
it  is  unintentional  or  unpremeditated  man-slaymg  that  is  in 
view.  The  Book  of  the  Covenant  simply  says,  "  If  a  man  lie 
not  in  wait,  but  God  deliver  him  (the  victim)  into  his  hand, 

1  Of  the  union  of  vicarious  revenge  and  the  punishment  of  unintentional 
injury,  the  Hupa  supply  an  instance  which  has  at  least  the  merit  of  com- 
pactness. A  woman  kindled  a  fire  out  of  doors  to  boil  water,  a  child  fell 
into  it  and  was  biirned,  and  the  life  of  the  woman's  son  was  sought  in 
revenge  (Goddard,  Univ.  of  Calif.  Publications,  vol.  i.  p.  60). 

*  Messrs.  Spencer  and  Gillen  (ii.  p.  556  ff.)  describe  an  avenging 
party  among  the  Central  Australians  setting  out  to  kill  a  man  living  a 
hundred  miles  away,  to  whose  magical  practices  they  imputed  the  death 
of  one  of  their  friends.  Finally,  they  failed  to  find  the  man  aiid  killed  his 
father  on  the  pretext  that  he  knew  of  the  practices  and  did  not  prevent 
them.  As  the  whole  charge  of  magic  would  probably  be  founded  on  nothing 
better  than  an  antecedent  enmity,  together  with  some  augury  indicating 
the  direction  which  the  avengers  should  take,  the  pretext  is  a  sufficiently 
thin  screen  for  the  real  idea  of  vioarious  vengeance.  Still,  it  is  interesting 
that  it  should  be  put  forward.  Among  the  Narrinyeri,  Taplin  (in  Woods, 
Native  Tribes  of  S.  Australia,  p.  34,  etc.)  speaks  of  a  distinction  between 
premeditated  murder  and  manslaughter,  and  describes  a  combined  "  tendi," 
or  meeting  of  two  totemic  groups,  the  one  accusing  a  member  of  the  other 
of  murder,  while  the  group  of  the  a,ccused  declared  that  the  death  wag 
accidental.  But  he  adds  :  "I  cannot  give  the  natives  credit  for  much 
order.  There  was  a  tremendous  amount  of  talk.  Sometimes  one  would 
speak,  then  half  a  dozen  would  speak  together — I  could  not  make  out  the 
drift  of  the  discussion."  This  being  so,  we  can  hardly  quote  this  evidence 
as  proof  of  nice  discrimination  of  degrees  of  responsibility  among  the 
Narrinyeri. 

*  Post,  A.  J.,  ii.  29.  In  West  Equatoria  the  man  who  injures  another 
in  cutting  down  a  tree  is  held  the  agent  of  an  indv.  piling  magical  power 
and  must  submit  to  the  ordeal  of  Mbundu  drinking  (ib.). 


LAW  AND  JUSTICE  85 

then  I  will  appoint  thee  a  place  whither  he  shall  flee.  And  if 
a  man  come  presumptuously  upon  his  neighhour  to  slay  him 
with  guile,  thou  shalt  take  him  from  mine  altar  that  he  may 
die."  ^  In  Deuteronomy  there  is  an  attempt  to  define  accident. 
The  city  of  refuge  is  appointed  for  "  whoso  killeth  his  neighbour 
unawares  and  hated  him  not  in  times  past."  The  first  qualifi- 
cation would  be  true  of  unmtentional,  the  second  of  mipremedi- 
tated  homicide.  Then  follows  a  somewhat  elaborate  illustration 
of  a  case  of  pure  accident. ^  "  As  when  a  man  goeth  into  the 
forest  with  his  neighbour  to  hew  wood,  and  his  hand  fetcheth 
a  stroke  with  the  axe  to  cut  down  the  tree,  and  the  head  slippeth 
from  the  helve,  and  lighteth  upon  his  neighbour,  that  he  die, 
he  shall  flee  unto  one  of  these  cities  and  live  :  "  and  then  it  is 
once  more  stated  that  the  slayer  ought  not  to  die,  "  inasmuch 
as  he  hated  him  not  in  time  past,"  which  would  be  true  of  any 
want  of  premeditation.  Furthermore,  even  in  this  relatively 
enlightened  code  the  unintentional  slayer  is  not  fully  protected. 
It  is  clearly  anticipated  that  the  "  avenger  of  blood  "  will  pursue 
him  "  while  his  heart  is  hot,  and  overtake  him  because  the  way 
is  long,"  and  smite  him  mortally,  and  there  is  no  hint  that  the 
avenger  will  be  punished.  Nor  was  the  alternative,  exile  to  the 
city  of  refuge,  a  merely  nominal  penalty.  Finally,  in  the  Priestly 
Code  there  is  an  elaborate  attempt  to  distinguish  different  cases. 
The  cities  of  refuge  are  appointed  for  every  one  that  "  killeth 
any  person  unwittingly,"  or,  as  the  margin  renders  it,  "  through 
error."  (An  attempt  is  made  to  render  the  meaning  clearer  by 
specifying  the  implements  used,  of  iron,  wood  or  stone.)  On  the 
other  hand,  he  who  has  killed  another,  "  lying  in  wait  "  or  "in 
enmity,"  is  to  be  put  to  death  by  the  avenger  of  blood  "  when 
he  meeteth  him."  In  intermediate  cases  the  congregation  shall 
judge.  "  But  if  he  thrust  him  suddenly  v/ithout  enmity,  or 
hurled  upon  him  anythii  g  v/ithout  lying  in  wait,  or  with  any 
stone,  whereby  a  man  may  die,  seeing  him  not,  and  cast  it  upon 
him,  so  that  he  died,  and  he  was  not  his  enemy,  neither  sought 
his  harm  :  then  the  congregation  shall  judge  between  the  smiter 
and  the  avenger  of  blood  according  to  these  judgments."  ^  Even 
here,  then,  the  three  cases  of  accident  ("  seeing  him  not  "),  assault 
without  intent  to  kill  ("  thrust  him  suddenly  ")  and  unpremedi- 
tated homicide  ("  without  lying  in  wait  ")  seem  to  be  in  a 
measure  confused.  And  even  in  this  code  the  avenger  may 
slay  the  man-slayer  anywhere  outside  the  borders  of  the  city  of 
refuge  until  the  death  of  the  high  priest. 

1  Exodus  xxi.  13,  41.  »  Deut.  xix.  4-6, 

•  Numbers  xxxv.  15,  20,  21,  22-24. 


86  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

Not  infrequently  in  early  law  we  find  the  distinction  that 
unintentional  homicide  is  atonable  by  paying  the  wergild,  while 
deliberate  murder  gives  rise  to  the  blood  feud.  Thus  in  the 
code  of  Hammurabi  ^  the  homicide  might  swear  that  the  blow 
was  unintentional  and  escape  with  a  fine.  So,  again,  though 
Germanic  law  begins  by  holding  a  man  equally  imputable 
for  all  that  he  has  done,  it  is  an  ancient  mitigation  that  for 
unintentional  homicide  the  wer  is  due,  and  the  blood  feud  should 
not  be  waged. 2  The  disentanglement  of  innocent  from  culpable 
homicide  was  a  very  gradual  achievement  in  mediaeval  Europe 
though  aided  by  the  Civil  and  Canon  Law,  and  the  forfeiture  of 
goods — the  direct  survival  of  the  wergild — remained  in  theory  in 
English  law  down  to  1828.3 

It  is  a  natural,  though,  to  our  minds,  a  bizarre  consequence 
that  in  early  justice  animals  and  even  inanimate  objects  may 
be  regarded  as  appropriate  subjects  of  punishment.  The  slaying 
of  offending  animals  is  provided  for  in  the  Book  of  Exodus. 
Many  cruel  punishments  were  inflicted  upon  animals  in  the 
code  of  the  Zendavesta,*  and  the  same  thing  occurred  in  medi- 
aeval Europe,  where,  perhaps  under  the  influence  of  the  Mosaic 
legislation,  it  even  survived  in  isolated  cases  to  the  sixteenth  or 
seventeenth  century  .^  The  punishment  of  animals  and  inanimate 
objects  was  no  mere  wreaking  of  blind  fury  on  innocent  creatures. 
Probably,  to  the  primitive  mind,  the  ox  that  gored  a  man,  the 
sword  that  slew,  and  the  murderer  that  wielded  it,  were  much 
more  on  one  level  than  they  can  be  to  us.  The  animal  or  tool,  if 
not  conscious  themselves,  might  be  endued  with  a  magic  power 

1  Hammurabi,  206-208,  cited  above,  p.  77. 

'  Pollock  and  Maitland,  ii.  470  and  471.  In  many  cases,  however,  the 
innocent  homicide  can  only  escape  by  a  recommendation  to  mercy.  In  the 
Anglo-Saxon  law  the  distinction  is  not  so  much  between  intentional  and 
unintentional  as  between  open  and  secret  slaying  (ib.,  i.  62).  This  recalls 
the  difficulties  in  Deut.  and  Numbers.  Generally  speaking,  according  to 
Post  (A.  J.,  ii.  28),  the  responsibility  of  the  agent  is  not  presiuned  as  a 
ground  of  his  piuiishment  in  Africa.  But  in  some  cases,  as  in  Aquapin  and 
Ashanti,  the  penalty  for  an  accidental  offence  is  reduced,  and  later  (in 
contradistinction  to  earlier),  Kaffir  law  imposes,  as  a  rule,  no  penalty  on 
accidental  homicide. 

^  Blackstone,  iv.  188.  In  practice  "  as  far  back  as  our  records  reach," 
the  defendant  could  obtain  a  pardon  and  writ  of  restitution.  The  clear 
demarcation  of  individual  responsibility  is  far  from  being  universal  in 
civilized  law.  In  the  Mohammedan  world,  a  man's  family  is  collectively 
responsible  even  for  damage  done  by  him  involuntarily  (Post,  Orundriss, 
ii.  216,  of.  Dareste,  p.  64).  In  China,  involuntary  offences  are  punished, 
though  on  a  reduced  scale.  In  the  Japanese  code  of  1871  accidental  injury 
to  parents  ia  heavily  punished  (Poet,  ii.  218). 

*  Entirely,  no  doubt,  vmder  the  influence  of  magical  ideas. 

•  For  other  instances,  see  Post,  ii.  231. 


LAW  AND  JUSTICE  8"? 

or  possessed  \7ith  an  evil  spirit.  It  was  well  to  get  rid  of  them 
before  they  did  more  harm.  If  not  destroyed  they  might  be 
purified.  Thus  in  the  English  law  of  Doedand,  which  was  not 
abolished  till  the  middle  of  the  last  century,  there  is  a  survival 
of  the  view  that  anything  that  has  killed  a  man  must  undergo 
a  kind  of  religious  purification ;  a  cart,  for  instance,  which  ran 
over  a  man,  or  a  tree  which  fell  on  him,  was  confiscated  and  sold 
for  charity — at  bottom  merelj'  a  somewhat  humanized  version 
of  the  ancient  Athenian  process  whereby  the  axe  that  had  slain 
a  man  was  brought  to  trial,  and,  if  found  guilty,  solemnly  thrown 
over  the  boundary.  It  need  hardly  be  added  that  where  re- 
sponsibility is  extended  to  animals  and  inanimate  objects,  it  is 
apt  to  be  inadequately  defined  in  the  ease  of  idiots,  lunatics,  and 
minors.^ 

The  principle  of  collective  tesponsibility  does  not  necessarily 
disappear  with  the  rise  of  public  justice  under  central  authority. 
It  lingers  on,  partly  through  sheer  conservatism,  but  also  in 
many  cases  for  political  reasons,  to  a  late  date.  Thus  it  is 
particularly  common  to  find  that  in  political  offences  the  family 
of  the  offender  suffers  with  him.  The  principle  of  collective 
responsibility  has  always  been  maintained  in  the  Far  East,  in 
China,2  in  the  Korea,  and,  under  the  influence  of  Chinese  civiliza- 
tion, in  Japan,  while  it  is  noteworthy  that  for  political  offences 
the  parents  and  children  might  be  punished  under  French  law 
right  down  to  the  time  of  the  Revolution.  Parallels  could  be 
found  in  the  laws  of  the  ancient  East,  of  ancient  Persia,^  and  of 

1  See  Post,  ii.  219,  and,  for  the  variation  of  custom  under  this  head, 
Westermarck,  Moral  Ideas,  pp.  266-277. 

*  Post,  ii.  226.  With  this  is  associated  punishment  for  unintentional 
offences  {ib.,  217).  In  Chinese  law,  accidental  parricide  is  still  capital, 
though  the  older  law  appears  to  have  been  mitigated.  A  man  who 
accidentally  killed  his  mother  in  attempting  to  defend  her,  was  sentenced 
to  the  lingering  death,  commuted  by  special  decree  to  decapitation,  subject 
to  the  Empress's  pleasure.  See,  for  various  instances.  Alabaster,  p.  159  ff. 
A  wife  killing  her  husband  unintentionally  is  sentenced  to  decapitation 
(ib.,  192).  A  misdeed  which,  however  indirectly,  caused  the  death  of  a 
senior  relation  is  also  punished,  if  the  relative  be  a  parent,  by  death  {ib., 
320  seq.}.  A  senior  relative  is  punishable  for  a  junior's  offence,  even  if  he 
knows  nothing  of  it;  c.  g.  a  father  was  sentenced  to  one  hundred  blows 
because  (unknown  to  him)  his  son  had  abducted  a  girl  (Alabaster,  p.  152). 
A  junior  relative  is  still  more  heavily  punishable  for  the  offence  of  a  senior. 
If  a  man  murders  four  members  of  one  family  he  suffers  the  lingering 
process,  and  his  male  children,  irrespective  of  age,  die  with  him  in  equal 
number  to  those  miu'dored.  In  the  case  of  Wang  Chih-pin  a  child  of  ten 
was  condemned  to  death  for  murders  by  his  father.  In  another  instance, 
the  children  were  condemned  to  be  castrated,  the  father  having  killed  three 
persons  (ib.,  164).  The  motive  is  partly  to  punish  the  murderer's  spirit 
by  cutting  off  his  male  descendants,  on  whose  offerings  he  depends  in  the 
new  life  [ib.,  58).  '  Post,  ii.  227. 


88  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

many  states  of  mediseval  Europe.  It  is,  in  fact,  only  the  decay 
of  the  joint  family  system  and  the  rise  of  the  free  mdividual  as 
the  basis  of  the  modern  state  v/hich  definitely  does  away  with 
this  principle,  so  fundamentally  irreconcilable  with  the  strictly 
ethical  notion  of  justice.  An  interesting  transitional  phase  is 
to  be  found  in  the  Old  Testament,  where  the  visiting  of  the  sins 
of  the  fathers  upon  the  children  is  very  definitely  laid  down  as 
a  piece  of  divme  justice  in  the  earlier  legislation  (I  mean  in  the 
second  Commandment),  whereas  in  the  time  of  Ezekiel  it  was 
strongly  maintained  to  be  an  injustice  that  when  the  fathers  had 
eaten  sour  grapes  the  children's  teeth  should  be  set  on  edge.  It 
was,  in  fact,  part  of  the  ethical  revolution  introduced  by  the  later 
prophets  to  establish  morally  for  the  Jewish  code  the  principle 
of  individual  responsibility.^ 

7.  With  the  evolution  of  social  order,  and  in  particular  with 
the  growth  of  central  authority,  the  redress  of  wrongs  begins  to 
take  the  form  of  an  independent  and  impartial  administration  of 
justice.  Let  us  trace  this  growth  in  outline  from  its  beginnings 
In  order  to  do  so  we  have  to  follow  several  strands  of  develop 
ment,  which  are  gradually  woven  together. 

(a)  Sacral  and  other  Public  Offences. — In  the  first  place,  from 
a  very  low  stage  of  social  development  we  find  the  community 
as  a  whole,  or  its  organs  the  council  of  elders  or  the  chief,  dealing 
regularly  with  certain  actions  which  are  resented  as  involving  the 
community  as  a  whole  In  misfortune  and  danger.  These  include, 
besides  actual  treason,  conduct  which  brings  upon  the  people  the 
wrath  of  God,  or  of  certain  spirits,  or  which  violates  some  mighty 
and  mysterious  taboo.  The  actions  most  frequently  regarded  in 
this  light  are  certain  breaches  of  the  marriage  laws  and  witch - 
craft.2    The  breaches  of  the  marriage  law  which  come  in  question 

^  Ezek.  xviii.  2 ;  Jer.  xxxi.  29.  The  result  is  embodied  in  Deut.  xxiv. 
16  :  "  The  fathers  shall  not  be  put  to  death  for  the  children,  neither  shall 
the  children  be  put  to  death  for  the  fathers  :  every  man  shall  be  put  to 
death  for  his  own  sin."  The  same  transition  is  found  in  the  law  of  the 
Visigoths  :  "  Let  not  father  for  son,  nor  son  for  father,  nor  brother  for 
brother  fear  any  accusation,  but  he  alone  shall  be  indicted  as  culpable  who 
shall  have  committed  the  i&nlt "  (Sutherland,  Origin  and  Growth  of  the 
Moral  Instinct,  ii.  168).  By  Sahc  law  a  man  might  cut  himself  off  from 
his  family,  but  then,  of  course,  he  also  lost  its  protection  {ib.,  167).  In 
the  Gilgamesh  Epic  we  have  an  interesting  appeal  to  the  god  to  visit  his 
offence  on  the  sinner  and  not  destroy  mankind. 

*  Cf.  Steinmetz,  Ethnolonische  Studien  zur  ersfen  Entwickelung  der  Strafe, 
ii.  328-341.  Among  the  Hurons  in  the  seventeenth  century  murder  and 
theft  were  punished  by  retaliation,  but  for  a  sorcerer  death  was  authorized 
by  the  people,  and  the  first  comer  might  slay  him  (Le  Jeune,  writing 
in  the  Jesuit  Relations,  a.d.  1636,  vol.  x.  p.  223).  As  to  traitors,  there  is 
some  conflict  of  evidence,  Lalemand  (vol.  xxviii.  p.  49)  speaking   of   no 


LAW  AND  JUSTICE  89 

hero  are  confined  to  those  transgressions  of  the  prohibitions  of 
intermarriage  upon  which  primitive  races  lay  such  extraordinary 
stress.  A  mere  violation  of  the  marriage  tie  is  generally  in 
savage  society  a  private  matter,  avenged  by  the  husband  alone, 
or  by  those  whose  duty  it  is  to  help  him;  but  a  breach  of  the 
rules  of  exogamy,  a  marriage  v/ithin  the  totem,  for  example,  or  a 
marriage  outside  the  permissible  class,  is  regarded  as  an  offence 
endangering  the  community  herself,  and  only  to  be  wiped  out 
by  the  extinction  of  the  offender.  A  Central  Australian  tribe, 
for  instance,  which  has  no  regular  means  of  enforcing  any  law, 
will  make  up  a  war  party  to  spear  the  man  and  woman  who 
have  married  in  defiance  of  these  customs.^  Similarly,  common 
action  will  often  be  taken  to  protect  the  community  from  witch- 
craft, obviously  a  terrible  offence  in  a  society  which  firmly 
believes  in  it.  Among  the  North  American  Indians  a  public 
sentence  was  often  pronounced  and  carried  out  by  the  chiefs  in 
cases  of  sorcery,  and  sometimes  also  in  cases  of  cowardice  or 
breaches  of  the  marriage  customs.^  The  punishment  of  witch- 
craft is  as  widespread  as  the  fear  of  it,  and,  prompted  as  it  is  by 
the  sense  of  a  danger  to  the  whole  community,  is  often  peculiarly 
ferocious,  and  directed  to  the  destruction  of  every  one  connected 
with  the  offender.^ 

punishment  but  compensation,  while  elsewhere  we  hear  of  the  traitor's 
liability  to  be  executed  by  the  first  comer.  Magic  murders  and  breaches 
of  the  tribal  marriage  rules  are  more  than  once  mentioned  by  Messrs. 
Spencer  and  Gillen  as  illustrations  of  the  offences  which  a  council  of  the 
elders  would  pmiish.  It  is  not  distinctly  stated,  but  one  would  infer  that 
these  are  the  regular  occasions  for  such  action,  though  they  may  at  times 
deal  with  other  matters.  Among  the  Dieri,  on  the  other  hand,  real  as 
well  as  magic  murder  seems  to  have  been  punished  by  the  council  (Howitt, 
p.  321),  though  whether  the  council  really  represents  the  tribe  as  a  whole, 
or  a  group  or  association  of  groups  comlBining  against  an  outsider,  is  not 
quite  clear  to  me.  From  the  fact  that  its  vengeance  may  be  vicarious 
(see  above,  p.  82)  I  should  infer  the  second  alternative. 

*  Sometimes  the  old  men  of  the  tribe  will  invite  a  neighbouring  group  to 
execute  the  criminal.  Cutting  and  burning  are  sometimes  substitutes  for 
death  (Spencer  and  Gillen,  Native  Tribes  of  Central  Australia,  p.  495). 

'  Kohler,  Zeitschrijt  fur  vergleichende  Rechtswissenschaft,  1897,  pp.  412- 
416.  For  the  punishment  of  sorcery,  see  Waitz,  iii.  128.  Among  the 
Salish,  Kwakiutl,  Nootka,  Tsimshian,  Thlinkeet,  and  Haida  peoples 
Niblack  (R.  B.  E.,  1888,  p.  253)  says  :  "  In  cases  such  as  witchcraft  or 
offences  of  medicine  men,  sentence  of  death  or  of  fine  is  adjudged  by  the 
leading  men  of  the  village  after  trial.  In  most  instances,  however,  the  law 
of  blood  revenge,  an  eye  for  an  eye,  leaves  little  need  for  other  than  family 
councils,  as  they  are  purely  totemic  offences  and  are  arranged  by  the 
injured  gens." 

^  "  The  punishments  affecting  sorcerers  can  scarcely  be  called  punish- 
ments. They  are  acts  of  annihilation." — Post,  ii.  p.  395,  where  numerous 
instances  are  given  froiu  all  parts  of  the  world.  In  some  cases,  the  whole 
family  of  the  offender  perishes  with  him. 


90  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

In  the  same  spirit  any  offences  against  religion  or  even  breaches 
of  ceremonial  rules  may  be  made  matter  for  public  punishment. 
Thus,  among  the  Bellacoola  Salish,  the  assembled  chiefs  would 
decree  death  for  any  transgression  of  the  Kusuit  ceremony,  as 
by  the  unlicensed  performance  of  a  dance  or  making  a  mistake 
in  dancing.^  So,  too,  among  the  Tsimshian  the  Council  punishes 
sorcery  and  breaches  of  the  prescribed  dancing  rules. ^  Sometimes 
insanity  or  some  eccentric  habit  may  have  serious  consequences. 
Thus,  among  the  Chepara,  "  if  a  man  became  insane  or  was  in  the 
habit  of  idiotically  muttering  to  himself,  they  killed  him  because 
they  thought  that  it  was  Wulle  (an  evil  being)  that  was  influencing 
him,  and  that  disaster  might  happen  to  the  camp.  In  the  same 
tribe  to  show  the  Bull-roarer  to  a  woman  was  a  capital  offence 
for  both  parties.' 

The  object  of  the  community  in  exterminating  the  offender 
in  these  cases  is  not  so  much  to  punish  the  wicked  man  as  to 
protect  itself  from  a  danger  or  purge  itself  from  a  curse.  Achan 
takes  the  accursed  thing,  the  thing  which  had  been  devoted  to 
Jahveh.  The  taboo  on  the  thing  devoted  is  at  once  communi- 
cated to  Achan  himself  as  though  it  were  a  poison  or  an  infection, 
or,  to  take  another  metaphor,  a  charge  of  electricity.  It  passes 
from  the  spoil  appropriated  to  the  appropriator,  and  no  resource 
remains  but  to  devote  Achan  with  all  his  family  and  belongings, 
everything,  in  fact,  which  the  accursed  thing  had  infected.  The 
Roman  criminal,  if  his  offence  bore  a  religious  character,  was 
"  sacer  " — separated  from  men,  made  over  to  the  offended 
deities.*  His  goods  were  set  apart  [consecratio  honorum),  for  they 
were  involved  in  his  impurity.     He  was  banished,  so  that  none 

1  Boas,  Brit.  Ass.  Reports,  1891,  p.  417. 

*  Boas,  Brit.  Ass.  Reports,  1899,  p.  832.  By  a  curious  turn  of  thought, 
both  the  vicarious  principle  and  that  of  atonement  may  figure  even  in  such 
cases  as  those.  Thus,  in  the  Bellacoola  case,  a  relative  may,  if  willing,  be 
substituted  for  the  offender  (Boas,  loc.  cit.).  Among  the  Tsimshian  any 
crime  may  be  atoned  by  sufficient  payment  (loc.  cit.).  Similarly  among 
the  Euahlayi,  in  Australia,  taking  a  woman  of  the  prohibited  class  was 
a  deadly  sin.  "  But  by  a  curious  train  of  reasoning  two  wrongs  make  a 
right,"  for  such  a  man  might  stand  the  spear-throwing  ordeal  from  the 
woman's  kin,  provide  a  woman  of  his  family  for  a  man  of  hers  (exactly  the 
same  breach  of  rules  which  he  had  himself  committed),  and  then  live  with 
her  in  peace  (Mrs.  K.  L.  Parker,  p.  79). 

3  Hewitt,  p.  354. 

*  Thus  the  undutiful  son  is  "  sacred  "  to  the  parental  deities.  "  Si 
parentem  puer  verberit,  ast  olle  plorassit,  puer  divis  parentum  sacer  esto  " 
(Bruns,  Pontes  Juris  Romani  Antiqui,  p.  14).  Treason  to  a  client,  or 
ploughing  up  a  neighbour's  landmark  would  also  render  a  man  "sacer  " 
(cf.  the  curses  in  Deut.  xxvii.).  At  bottom,  the  idea  of  some  North  American 
Indians  is  similar,  among  whom  the  murderer  is  taboo,  because  haunted  by 
the  ghost  of  the  victim  (Kohler,  Z.  f.  vrjl.  Reclitswst.,  1897,  408). 


LAW  AND  JUSTICE  91 

might  come  into  contact  with  his  accursed  person.  He  was  cut 
off  from  fire  and  water,  not  primarily  because  fire  and  water  were 
necessary  to  his  Hfe,  so  that  he  was  sentenced  to  death  by  being 
deprived  of  them,  but  rather  for  fear  that  his  accursed  touch 
should  pollute  the  sacred  elements  and  convey  the  pollution  to 
others.  That  the  criminal  suffered  in  consequence  was  a  satis- 
factory collateral  effect,  but  the  main  thing  was  to  secure  the  fire 
and  water  from  pollution.^ 

Thus  far,  then,  public  punishments,  where  they  are  any  more 
than  an  explosion  of  indignant  feehng,  may  be  regarded  as  public 
action  taken  for  the  sake  of  public  safety.  The  community  is 
threatened  with  palpable  treason,  or  with  occult  magic  influence, 
or  by  the  wrath  of  the  gods.^  It  protects  itself  by  destroying 
the  traitor,  or  sacrificing,  or,  at  any  rate,  getting  rid  of,  the  witch. 
It  is  a  kind  of  public  hygiene  rather  than  a  dispensation  of  justice 
which  is  in  question.' 

In  other  cases  the  tribal  offence  is  of  a  more  secular  character. 
Intercourse  with  an  ahen  was  held  the  deadliest  offence  among 
the  Seri,*  and  was  among  the  misdeeds  that  led  to  outlawry, 
and  among  the  Makh-el-Chel  of  Cahfornia  the  chief  might  put  a 
woman  to  death  either  for  marriage  or  adultery  with  a  white 
man.^  A  chief  himself  was  lynched  among  the  Ni-shi-nan  for 
kidnapping  women  to  sell  to  the  Spaniards.^  These  are  offences 
verging  on  treason.'  To  them  may  be  added,  as  essentially 
public  matters,  breaches  of  camp  discipline  and  violations  of  the 
rules  of  the  hunt.  Thus,  among  the  Kiowa  Indians,  "  Camp  and 
ceremonial  regulations  were  enforced  and  their  violation  punished 

^  Ihering,  Oeist  des  Rdmischen  Rechts,  i.  275-277,  etc. 

*  Among  the  German  tribes  the  worst  offenders  were  sacrificed  to  the 
gods,  unless  the  latter  showed  signs  of  grace,  in  which  case  the  offender 
became  a  slave  of  the  gods,  or  was  sold  into  slavery,  or  became  an  exile. 
The  great  offences  were  :  breach  of  the  peace  of  the  temple,  the  army,  or 
the  meeting,  of  a  special  festival,  or,  finally,  of  the  house ;  grave-robbing, 
treason,  raising  an  army  in  rebellion,  arson,  black  magic ;  anti-social 
crimes  of  peculiar  depravity,  such  as  breach  of  a  sworn  peace,  unnatural 
desire,  and  acts  of  cowardice,  such  as  desertion  from  the  army ;  concealed 
murder  and  theft,  in  opposition  to  open  murder  and  robbery  (Schroder, 
Lehrbuch  der  Deutschen  Rechtsgeschichte,  pp.  74  and  76). 

^  Among  the  Central  Sakai  marriage  within  the  family  (including  that 
of  first  cousins)  is  looked  on  with  abhorrence.  "  Incest  of  this  sort  (for  it 
does  occur)  is  one  of  the  few  things  that  can  stir  an  aboriginal  community 
to  its  depths.  It  seems  to  invite  the  divine  wrath,  and  no  Sakai  feels  safe 
till  the  scoundrel  is  put  an  end  to.  And  as  the  Sakai  political  system 
has  no  means  of  compulsion  or  punishment  for  dealing  with  cases  of  this 
sort,  the  tension  becomes  greater  than  ever  "  (R.  J.  A\'ilkinson,  Papers  on 
Malay  Subjects,  "  The  Aboriginal  Tribes,"  p.  50). 

*  McGee,  op.  cit.,  p.  284.  ^  Powers,  p.  214.  '  Powers,  p.  320. 

'  Mere  friendship  with  white  men  may  be  dangerous — a  man  was  killed 
for  this  by  the  Dieri  (Howitt,  p.  332). 


92  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

by  the  ya'pahe  (warriors)  acting  under  direction  of  the  war  cliiefs. 
Personal  grievances  were  avenged  by  the  injured  party  or  by  his 
nearest  relatives  v.ithout  interference  by  the  tribe."  ^ 

(b)  "Occasional"  Justice. — In  several  of  the  above  cases  it 
is  clear  that  it  is  not  for  lack  of  an  organ  of  punishment  that 
private  matters  are  left  to  party  vengeance.  It  is  that  they 
are  not  regarded  as  matters  directly  concerning  the  community 
as  a  whole,  and  the  evolution  of  criminal  justice  may  be 
looked  at  from  one  point  of  view  as  an  extension  of  the 
conception  of  a  "  tribal  "  offence  tiU  it  covers  every  serious 
wrong  done  to  a  single  member  of  the  tribe.  We  find  a 
beginning  in  this  direction  when  special  offences  that  provoke 
indignation  are  met  by  a  special  act  of  collective  resentment. 
Tliis  may  be  due  to  the  unpopularity  of  the  aggressor  or  to 
the  status,  influence,  or  popularit}-  of  his  victim.  Thus,  of  the 
Slioshones,  Bancroft  \rates  :  "  Every  man  does  as  he  likes. 
Private  revenge,  of  course,  occasionally  overtakes  the  murderer, 
or,  if  the  sympathies  of  the  tribe  be  with  the  murdered  man,  he 
may  possibly  be  pubhcly  executed,  but  there  are  no  fixed  laws 
for  such  cases."  ^  This  is  typical  of  what  we  may  call  "  occa- 
sional "  pubHc  intervention  in  private  matters.  It  is  neither  law 
nor  justice,  which  go  by  rule,  but  an  explosion  of  popular  sym- 
pathy which  may  or  may  not  be  provoked  by  the  personahties 
involved  in  the  case.  The  objections  to  the  offender  maj^  indeed, 
be  well  founded.  Thus,  among  the  Central  Eskimo,  a  man  who 
had  committed  repeated  murders  might  be  killed  A\ith  the 
consent  of  aU  liis  neighbours,  and  in  Labrador  we  are  told  that 
a  murderer  who  turned  on  the  avenger  of  blood  and  killed  him, 
might  be  put  to  death.'  So  among  the  Dakota  we  hear  of  the 
village  council  decreeing  the  death  of  some  young  men  who  had 
attempted  the  murder  of  their  brother  and  threatened  that  of 
other  people.  The  proceedings  were  held  while  they  were  asleep, 
and  three  men,  one  a  half-brother,  were  delegated  to  dispatch 
them.* 

(c)  The  Adjustment  of  Disputes.  —  It  is  easily  intelligible 
that  occasional  intervention  should  harden  and  define  itself 

1  Mooney,  R.  B.  E.,  xvii.  233.  Cf.  Doi-sey  on  the  Hidatsa,  R.  B.  E., 
XV.  243. 

2  Bancroft,  p.  435.  For  the  Lex  Talionis  among  the  Utah  Shoshones, 
ci.  Remy  and  Brenchley,  Journey  to  Great  Salt  Lake  City,  ii.  292,  where 
the  actual  instances  given  refer  to  tlie  whites,  but  the  practice  is  taken  as 
general. 

3  Boas,  R.  B.  E.,  1884-1885,  p.  682  and  appendix  Turner,  B.  B.  E., 
xi.  580. 

*  Schoolcraft,  vol.  ii.  p.  183. 


LAW  AND  JUSTICE  93 

into  rules  of  custom.  But  there  is  another  method  of  approach 
to  regular  justice  which  has,  perhaps,  had  greater  influence. 
It  is  the  natural  effort  of  friends,  relatives  and  neighbours  to 
prevent  the  development  of  a  quarrel  into  a  fight,  particularly 
when  the  fight  may  involve  ultimately  ail  the  consequences 
of  a  party  feud.  It  is  equally  natural  that  the  older  men,  or 
the  chief,  who  is  often  no  more  than  the  most  respected  and 
influential  elder  of  a  little  group,  should  be  particularly  active 
in  this  respect.  Thus  we  often  hear  of  a  chief  little  that  is  definite 
except  that  he  takes  the  lead  in  the  movements  of  the  band, 
having,  perhaps,  no  authority  but  that  which  respect  and  his 
personal  prowess  or  powers  of  persuasion  may  lend  him,  and  that 
he  settles  disputes  among  his  followers.  Where  liis  power  is  so 
purely  personal,  the  submission  to  his  judgment  must  be  volun- 
tary, and  we  must  think  of  him  not  as  a  judge,  but  as  a  friendly 
arbitrator,  or  rather,  at  first,  as  a  conciHator.  If  the  parties  are 
not  satisfied,  self -redress  remains.  Thus,  among  the  Montagnais, 
Micmacs  (or  Souriquois)  and  Etechemins,  the  Jesuits  found  small 
cliiefs  or  "  sagamores  "  who,  ^vith  the  help  of  the  friends,  easily 
adjusted  small  quarrels.  But  these  cliiefs  had  no  binding  au- 
thority, and  all  serious  crimes  were  occasions  for  vengeance  or 
composition.^  Resort  to  the  cliief  may  be  wholly  optional. 
Among  the  Timorese  the  leorei  is  judge  as  well  as  king,  but  acts 
only  in  the  rare  cases  when  complaint  is  made  to  him.  Every 
man  or  his  family  exacts  justice  on  the  A\Tongdoer,  if  possible 
by  extorting  compensation .^ 

In  many  cases  where  a  settlement  of  disputes  by  a  council  of 
elders,  or  a  chief,  is  spoken  of,  we  find  on  further  examina-tion 
that  this  method  is  merely  subsidiary  to  that  of  self-help  and 
private  vengeance.  Thus,  among  the  Nagas,  Stewart  ^  certainly 
tells  us  that  petty  disputes  and  disagreements  about  property 
are  settled  by  a  council  of  ciders,  the  htigants  voluntarily  sub- 
mitting to  their  arbitration.  But  he  goes  on  to  say  that,  cor- 
rectly speaking,  there  is  not  a  shadow  of  constituted  authority. 
It  is  true  there  is  general  peace.  But  this  is  founded  on  revenge, 
and  the  prosecution  of  it  to  the  extremest  lengths  for  the  most 
trifling  ofiences — and  this  not  only  as  between  different  villages, 
but  as  between  two  members  of  the  same  village.  In  the  rare 
©vent  of  a  quarrel  breaking  out  between  two  men  of  the  same 

^  Biard,  in  the  Jesuit  Relations,  vol.  ii.  p.  73 ;   vol.  iii.  p.  93. 

^  H.  O.  Forbes,  J.  A.  I.,  xiii.  p.  421.  As  the  Portuguese  forbid  the 
taking  of  life,  we  are  told  that  now  cases  are  brough  t  before  the  Rajah 
in  order  to  socoro  the  fines. 

'  Journal  As.  Soc.  of  Bengal,  p.  609. 


94  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

village,  each  has  iiis  party  who  "  takes  up  liis  quarrel  not  by  any 
means  from  a  sense  of  justice,  but  from  relationship — and  a  civil 
war  ensues  which  is  disgusting  to  contemplate."  In  such  cases 
as  this  it  would  be  very  misleading  to  sjaeak  of  justice  as  adminis- 
tered by  a  court  as  we  conceive  it.  The  function  of  the  council 
is  clearly  to  maintain  the  peace  if  possible,  but  the  real  basis  of 
order  is  the  blood  feud  and  the  fear  of  it. 

"  The  justice  "  of  a  chief  is  often  of  the  same  subsidiary  kind ; 
thus,  among  the  Brazilians,  von  Martins  ^  tells  us  that  the  chief 
hears  the  rare  cases  of  dispute,  associating  with  himself  the 
sorcerer  and  medicine-man ;  that  in  grave  cases  whole  families 
wdth  their  supporters  come  before  him,  that  he  tracks  a  thief 
and  enforces  restitution,  and  perhaps  the  punishment  of  wound- 
ing in  addition  (p.  81).  But  looking  further,  we  find  that  in 
these  tribes  blood  revenge  is  in  full  s\^dng.  There  is  no  punish- 
ment f  jT  killing  a  man  in  a  quarrel.  Revenge  is  purely  an  affair 
of  the  family.  It  is  only  when  death  or  injury  is  inflicted  by  a 
member  of  another  tribe  that  the  community  takes  the  matter 
up.  Vengeance  is  collective  and  spares  neither  children  nor  the 
aged.  Wliere,  then,  is  the  chief  in  all  this  ?  He  seldom  meddled, 
we  are  told,  in  cases  of  homicide  within  the  community,  but  there 
was  no  rule  in  the  matter.  He  might  seek  to  appease  the  feud  by 
getting  the  parties  to  accept  composition,  but  probably  this 
would  only  be  accepted  in  the  case  of  somewhat  distant  relatives 
(pp.  130,  131).  Smaller  quarrels  were  generally  fought  out,  and 
it  was  thought  discreditable  to  bring  them  to  the  chief.  In  this 
case,  then,  the  pubhc  authority  as  focussed  in  the  chief  is  seen 
acting  intermittently  for  the  appeasement  of  strife  by  the  well- 
knoAvn  expedient  of  "  composition."  But  in  the  background,  as 
before,  lies  the  blood  feud.^ 

In  particular,  a  chief  or  a  council  set  themselves  to  secure  the 
acceptance  of  composition.  Thus,  among  the  lOionds,  we  read 
that  Retaliation  is  in  general  the  sole  remedy  for  wrongs  of  wha,t- 
ever  order,  but  society  intervenes  to  prevent  revenge  by  com- 
position, having  in  view  "  exclusively  the  private  satisfaction  of 
the  individual,  not  the  vindication  of  any  civil  or  moral  rules 

1  Beitrdge  zur  Ethnographie  Amerika's,  i.  69,  etc. 

*  McPherson,  Memorials  of  Service  in  India,  p.  81.  Among  the  Kayans 
we  get  a  transition  to  public  justice.  The  authority  of  the  chiefs  and  the 
ponalties  imposed  by  them  "  are  prescribed  in  a  general  way  by  custom," 
but  much  depends  on  the  personal  quahties  of  each  chief,  and,  "  on  the 
whole,  the  chief  plays  the  part  of  arbitrator  and  mediator,  awarding  com- 
pensation to  the  injured  party,  rather  than  that  of  a  judge  "  (Hose  and 
McDougall,  Pagan  Tribes  of  Borneo,  i.  65).  Among  the  Sea  Dyaka  it 
would  seem  that  the  chief  ought  to  execute  justice,  but  "  ties  of  relationship 
are  impediments  "  (Ling  Roth,  Natives  of  Sarawak,  ii.  228). 


LAW  AND  JUSTICE  95 

of  right."  Some  very  simple  peoples  have  a  complete  system 
of  arbitration,  resort  to  which  is  altogether  optional.  Thus,  an 
aggrieved  Hupa  might  take  his  case  to  his  headman  or  some 
other  prominent  person,  who  would  suggest  compensation.  If 
the  facts  were  disputed,  witnesses  would  be  heard  and  the 
"  court  "  would  duly  receive  a  fee.  Personal  injuries  and  homi- 
cide might  be  settled  in  tliis  way,  but  it  was  equally  open  to  the 
complainant  to  reject  any  settlement  and  demand  life  for  life, 
vicariously  or  otherwise.^ 

(d)  Regulated  Vengeance  and  Partial  Control. — A  common 
modification  of  crude  self-redress  is  the  set  fight.  This  may 
be  a  mild  affair,  like  the  boxing  matches  by  which  the 
Western  Eskimo  sometimes  settle  their  disputes.^  Others  are 
more  deadly,  as  among  the  Yuracare,  where,  though  a  wound  in 
the  arm  should  end  the  fight,  the  duel,  in  fact,  often  proceeds  to 
the  death.^  The  duel  generally  takes  place  under  prescribed 
conditions  and  may  be  terminated  by  a  set  test,  as  among  the 
Kubu,  where  the  abduction  of  a  wife  resulted  in  a  duel  in 
the  water,  the  man  who  could  submerge  the  other  winning  the 
woman.**  It  may  be  a  test  of  endurance,  as  among  the  Kabi 
and  Wakka,  where  the  disputants  grip  one  another  and  scarify 
the  back  with  a  flint  till  one  or  other  has  enough.^  The  public 
or  the  cliief  may  look  on,  and  act  as  judges,  as  in  West  Victoria, 
where  the  protector  of  an  ill-used  wife  must  challenge  the 
husband  to  a  duel.®  Here  is  a  germ  of  public  intervention,  and 
the  matter  becomes  still  more  formal  if  the  fight  is  between  two 
kindreds  or  two  local  groups.  Among  the  Southern  Kamilaroi 
trespass  disputes  were  settled  in  this  fashion,  and  a  single  combat 
of  champions  might  be  substituted  for  a  general  encounter.'  The 
expiatory  encounters  among  the  Australians,  which  have  been 
mentioned  above,  were  not  properly  fights,  for  the  offender  was 
only  allowed  to  defend  himself  and  not  to  reply.  But  his  own  rela- 
tives or  his  local  group  were  at  hand,  armed,  to  defend  him,  and 
the  precise  conditions  of  the  affair  seem  to  have  been  a  matter  of 
negotiation.  Thus,  at  Port  Lincoln,  Schiirmann  ^  tells  us  of  two 
murder  cases,  in  one  of  which  it  was  agreed  that  the  murderer 
should  stand  two  spear-throws  from  the  brother  of  the  victim, 
while  the  other  was  settled  by  a  fight  between  eight  men  on  each 
side,  which  was  stopped,  though  with  much  difficulty,  without 
l;Ioodshed.    The   first  is  an  expiatory  meeting,  the  second  a 

'•  Godduid,  Univ.  oj  California  Publications,  vol.  i.  p.  59. 

'  Bancroft,  p.  6.5. 

*  D'Orbigny,  U Homme  Am,ericain,  i.  348.         *  Hagen,  p.  136. 

*  Curr,  iii.  121.  *  Dawson,  p.  35. 

■  Howitt,  p.  332.  «  op.  Woods,  pp.  245,  24^. 


96  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

regulated  fight.  Both  involve  a  certain  amount  of  super\a.sion, 
and  we  might  say  that,  if  the  community  definitely  compel  the 
offender  to  make  atonement  and  would  punish  him  if  he  refused, 
this  would  be  a  form  of  public  intervention  which  we  might 
describe  as  assistance  to  private  revenge,  while,  if  the  avenger  is 
similarly  compelled  to  accept  such  satisfaction  and  demand  no 
more,  it  is  similarly  public  control  of  private  revenge.^  How 
far  public  intervention  would  go,  we  are  not  always  informed,. 
Often  we  are  told  merely  that  this  satisfaction  is  required  by 
custom,  just  as  in  other  parts  of  the  world  compensation  is  good 
custom.  But  among  the  Geawegal,  R-usden^  says  "obedience 
to  such  laws  was  never  refused,  but  would  have  been  enforced 
without  doubt,  if  necessary,  by  the  assembled  tribe."  Curr,  on 
the  other  hand,  says  of  the  Bangerang  in  a  similar  case,  that  if 
the  offender  had  refused  he  would  probably  have  been  murdered 
by  the  injured  party,  and  no  one  would  avenge  his  death. ^ 
There  would,  of  course,  be  the  constraint  of  custom  and  opiniorj, 
but  if  this  account  is  correct,  no  physical  force  other  than  that 
of  the  aggrieved  party.  A  warrior  who  trusted  sufficiently  to  his 
owai  prowess  might  snap  his  fingers  at  the  custom,^  and,  indeed, 
aU  the  accounts  show  that  if  he  knew  how  to  use  his  shield,  the 
exposure  to  the  spear-throwing  was,  at  worst,  a  very  nominal  risk.^ 

^  A  quite  distinctive  mitigation  of  the  regulated  fight  in  a  peaceably- 
disposed  people  is  seen  in  the  nith  songs  of  the  Greenlanders.  A  man 
would  challenge  any  one  who  had  injured  him  to  a  contest  of  song  at  a 
meeting  of  the  tribe.  "  The  litigants  stood  face  to  face  with  each  other 
in  the  midst  of  a  circle  of  on-lookers,  both  men  and  women,  and,  beating 
a  tambourine  or  drum,  each  in  turn  sang  satirical  songs  about  the  other.  .  .  . 
They  related  all  the  misdeeds  of  their  opponent  and  tried  in  every  possible 
way  to  make  him  ridiculous.  The  one  who  got  the  audience  to  laugli 
most  at  his  gibes  or  inventions  was  the  conqueror  "  (Nansen,  Eskimo  Life, 
p.  186,  etc.).  This  is  not  the  description  of  a  trial,  but  of  a  regulated  duel, 
only  a  duel  of  wits,  a  substitute  for  the  serious  blood  vengeance  which 
persists,  though  in  a  mild  form.  For  murder,  we  are  told,  is  regarded  as 
a  purely  private  affair  for  the  murdered  man's  nearest  relatives  to  take 
up.  There  are,  however,  cases  of  extreme  atrocity  in  which  a  village  has 
been  known  to  make  common  cause  against  a  murderer  and  put  him  to 
death,  and,  as  usual,  we  learn  that  to  kill  old  witches  and  wizards  is  not 
considered  criminal  (ib.,  p.  162).  The  normal  blood  feud  is  varied  by 
occasional  outbursts  of  public  resentment. 

^  Cp.  Fison  and  Howitt,  Ka»tilaroi  and  Kurnai,  App.  F. 

'  Squatting  in  Victoria,  p.  245. 

*  See  a  dramatic  story  in  G.  S.  Lang,  Aborigines  of  Australia,  p.  8 : 
"  a  bold  man,  formidable  with  his  weapons,  could  do  anything  with 
impunity." 

"  The  accused,  says  Beveridge,  of  the  Riverina  natives,  generally  acknow- 
ledged his  guilt  (which,  if  we  may  judge  from  other  cases,  would  often  be  a 
quite  imaginary  charge  of  magic),  stood  the  exposure,  which  was  rarely 
fatal,  and  was  then  received  again  as  an  innocent  man,  having  "  tholed 
his  assize."  Perhaps  every  fifth  native,  Beveridge  thought,  had  killed  hia 
man  {Aborigines  of  Victoria,  p.  108). 


LAW   AND  JUSTICE  97 

Further,  both  the  regulated  fight  and  the  expiatory  meeting 
are  in  large  measure  affairs  between  members  of  distinct  local 
groups,  devised  to  avoid  real  and  sanguinary  battles  between 
them,  which  would  result  if  either  side  chose  definitely  to  stand 
by  its  own  member.  Thus,  among  the  Yuin,  blood  revenge  was 
frequent  and  led  to  reprisals,  hence  the  old  men  preferred  the 
expiatory  ordeal.  So,  among  the  Wotjobaluk,  a  murder  might  be 
adjusted  by  an  expiatory  meeting  between  the  two  totems  con- 
cerned, but  if  the  headmen  were  not  careful  to  intervene  when 
blood  was  drawn,  the  upshot  might  be  a  general  fight  between 
the  two  parties.^  In  such  a  case,  doubtless,  constraint  would,  if 
necessary,  be  placed  on  the  individual  offender  by  his  own  group, 
and  on  the  injured  member  by  his  group,  but  as  between  the  groups 
the  whole  transaction  would  be  a  party  affair.  If  the  offender's 
group  so  chose,  they  might  refuse  the  meeting  and  risk  the  fight .^ 
At  bottom,  redress  is  a  question  of  the  strength  of  the  parties. 

Thus,  whether  in  the  regulated  fight  or  in  the  expiatory 
encounter,  the  basis  is  self-redress,  and  public  intervention  is 
present  only  in  a  germinal  form.  A  further  step  is  taken  when 
the  injured  man  can  command  the  direct  assistance  of  his 
community,  or  his  chief.  Among  the  Gallinomero,  according  to 
Powers,  the  avenger  had  his  option  between  the  murderer's 
money  or  his  Hfe,  but  if  he  chose  his  life,  it  was  the  chief  who  tied 
the  criminal  to  a  tree,  while  a  number  of  people  shot  arrows  into 
him.^  What  means  he  used  to  enhst  his  chief  on  his  side  we  do 
not  know.  Was  there  anything  like  an  investigation,  or  did  the 
affair  go  by  favour  and  influence  ?  *  We  do  not  know,  but  we  are 
clear  (a)  that  the  initiation  and  direction  of  the  affair  is  in  private 
hands,  (6)  that  pubhc  force  is  used  in  execution.  This  is  definite 
public  assistance  of  private  redress.  Among  the  Ojibways  we 
are  carried  a  step  further,  for  the  chief  in  council  pronounced 
upon  a  charge  of  murder,  but  (a)  it  was  apparently  at  the  option 
of  the  complainants  to  demand  death  or  compensation,  (6)  it 
was  the  next  of  kin  who  executed  the  sentence,  and  (c)  many 
cases  never  came  into  court,  vengeance  being  taken  directly  by 
the  relatives.^     Again,  instead  of  being  assisted,  vengeance  may 

1  Howitt,  pp.  334  and  342. 

*  As,  e.  g.  among  the  Wirudjuri  (Howitt,  p.  332). 

*  Powers,  p.  177. 

*  Among  the  Kurimiba,  a  South  Indian  tribe  or  caste,  the  husband  flogs 
an  errmg  wife  and  her  lover — if  he  can.  If  not,  he  appUes  to  the  headman 
to  do  it  for  him.  What  arguments  does  he  use  ?  (Buchanan,  in  Thurston, 
vol.  iv.  p.  164).  Among  the  Karaya  people  the  business  of  the  chief  is 
to  help  in  finding  the  offender.  It  is  for  the  injiired  party  to  punish 
(Ehrenreich,  Beitrdge,  p.  29). 

^  P.  Jones,  History  of  the  Ojibway  Indians,  pp.  108-109. 
H 


98  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

bo  controlled.  Tims,  among  the  Pitta  Pitta  in  Queensland,  after 
a  fight,  the  old  men  of  the  camp  would  inquire  into  the  cause.  If 
the  conquered  man  had  ravished  the  victor's  wife  or  given  him 
the  "  death  bone  "  (a  magical  process  of  securing  his  death)  no 
further  action  was  taken,  but  if  the  victor  was  in  the  wrong,  he 
must  undergo  similar  injury  wdth  similar  weapon,  even  death  if 
death  he  had  dealt  .^  In  this  case  self -redress  is  controlled. 
Lastly,  we  have  cases  where  chief  or  council  direct  the  affair  and 
inflict  the  punishment,  but  this  consists  in  strict  talion.^  Here 
we  may  legitimately  infer  that  the  public  authority  has  taken 
over  the  business  of  redress,  the  old  method  being  still  applied 
for  the  full  satisfaction  of  the  avenger's  traditional  demand. 
Lastly,  the  old  view  of  crime  may  appear  in  the  fact  that  the  most 
serious  offences  are  atonable,  either  by  compensation  which  the 
court  awards  to  the  relatives,  or  by  a  fine  which  it  takes  to  itself 
or  puts  to  public  use.  Atonement,  it  should  be  observed,  has  a 
wider  apphcation  than  composition.  It  rests  on  the  notion  that 
an  offence  is  something  that  can  be  made  up  for  by  some  special 
sacrifice,  a  good  deed,  a  benefaction,  or  a  penance,  whereas 
composition  is  definite  payment  of  damages  for  injury  done 
to  the  party  injured.  In  atonement  the  offender  compounds 
with  the  community,  with  God,  or  with  conscience.^  Unfortu- 
nately, we  are  not  always  able  in  our  authorities  to  distinguish 
between  Atonement  and  Composition  proper,  for  while  we 
are  often  told  that  a  fine  is  the  penalty,  we  do  not  always 
know  to  whom  the  fine  goes.  But  it  is  sufficiently  clear  that 
both  atonement  in  general  and  composition  in  particular  still 
play  a  large  part  in  the  public  punishment  of  the  simpler 
societies.* 

(e)  l^he  Transition. — In  an  ordered  society  the  murder  of  any 
simple  citizen  is  regarded  with  the  same  feeling  and  provokes  the 

1  W.  E.  Roth,  p.  140. 

*  «.  g.  The  Jakun,  P.  Favre,  Indian  Archip.,  vol.  ii.  p.  268.  Cf.  the 
Atkoor  Chensu,  among  whom  the  death  penalty  was  inflicted  by  the 
chiefs  of  clans  in  the  same  manner  and  with  the  same  weapon  as  the  murder 
(Captain  Newbold,  J.  R.  A.  S.,  vol.  viii.  p.  275). 

'  Among  the  Padam  Abors,  crime  was  a  public  disgrace,  to  be  expiated 
by  a  sacrifice,  for  which  purpose  the  people  took  the  first  animal  they 
found,  leaving  the  owner  to  recover  compensation  as  best  he  could  from 
the  offender  (Dalton,  p.  22). 

*  Confining  the  title  of  composition  to  cases  in  which  it  seemed  clear 
that  the  injured  party  is  paid,  and  leaving  all  other  cases  of  payment  for 
murder,  rape,  etc.,  under  the  head  Atonable,  we  emunerated  152  cases  of 
composition  and  twenty-four  of  Atonement  (expiatory  encounters  not 
reckoned).  The  majority  of  these  would  bo  associated  with  private 
redress.  We  have  found  at  various  stages  thirtj-four  cases  of  composition 
or  atonement  associated  with  regular  PubHc  Justice. 


LAW  AND  JUSTICE  99 

same  collective  intervention  which  would  be  excited  in  a  simple 
tribe,  where  self-redress  is  the  rule,  by  incest  or  black  magic.  We 
called  these  tribal  offences,  and  we  may  formula,te  the  transition 
from  self -redress  to  regular  justice  by  saying  that  grave  offences 
against  the  individual  have  become  "  tribal  "  offences — injuries 
to  the  community.  Nor  is  this  a  wholly  imaginary  description  of 
the  actual  method  of  transition,  for  in  some  cases  we  find  evidence 
that  simple  homicide  has  a  sacral  aspect,  and  concerns  the  tribe 
on  this  account.  Thus,  among  the  Omaha,  the  murderer  might 
be  spared  by  the  relatives,  but  he  was  still  under  a  taboo  and 
must  pitch  his  tent  apart  for  two  to  four  years.  Even  the 
involuntary  man-slayer  must  do  similar  penance,  though  for  a 
shorter  time,  and  the  reason  was  that  his  presence  infected  the 
air.i  Frequently  the  homicide  has  to  undergo  a  ceremonial 
purification,  even  though  his  act  was  innocent  or  laudable  by  the 
standard  of  his  society.  He  has  the  death-infection  about  him 
or  is  haunted,  behke,  by  the  ghost  of  the  slain.^  Among  the 
Dyaks  not  only  incest — almost  everywhere  a  "  tribal  "  offence — 
but  bigamy  might  be  a  cause  of  bad  weather  and  require  a  puri- 
fication of  the  earth  with  the  blood  of  pigs  and  a  taboo  on  the 
village  for  three  days.^  The  shock  to  the  customs  and  sentiment 
that  regulates  private  intercourse  clothes  itself  in  the  famihar 
supernatural  garb.  Condemnation  of  the  act  takes  the  form  of  a 
fear  for  the  commonweal,  which  naturally  reinforces  the  resolu- 
tion to  put  down  such  acts  by  the  punishment  and,  if  need  be, 
extermination  of  the  offenders. 

But,  apart  from  sacral  conceptions,  the  developing  sense  of 
justice,  the  natural  sympathy  with  the  injured  man,  and  the 
dishke  and  fear  of  the  aggressor,  have  an  important  ally  in  the 
necessities  of  the  common  safety.  Self -redress  is  a  dangerous 
proceeding,  as  the  result  of  which  a  Uttle  community  maj^  at  any 
time  find  itself  divided  into  two  bitterly  hostile  factions.  In  the 
small  Austrahan  loca.1  groups,  or  in  a  Calif ornian  band,  there  v/ill 
hardly  be  any  one  who  is  not  connected  with  one  or  other  of  two 
disputants,  and  a  quarrel  will  endanger  the  whole  society.  Hence 
even  in  the  lowest  societies  we  are  not  to  suppose  that  serious 
aggressions  are  matter  of  entire  indifference  to  the  bystanders. 

1  Dorsey,  "Omaha  Sociology,"  R.  B.  E.,  1881,  p.  369.  Fletcher  and 
La  Flesche,  R.  B.  E.,  vol.  xxvii.  p.  215. 

*  Some  cases,  at  least,  of  the  Aiistralian  expiatory  meetings  are  referable 
to  this  cause,  e.  g.  among  the  Nguria,  people  who  have  been  absent  when  a 
relative  dies,  must  not  speak  on  return  to  camp  till  they  have  had  spears 
thrown  at  them  (Curr,  vol.  i.  p.  289).  So,  too,  among  the  Wiimbaio 
(Howitt,  p.  452). 

^  Ling  Roth,  Natives  oj  Sarawak,  vol.  i.  p.  401. 


100  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

On  the  contrary,  the  public  opinion  of  the  group  is  always  a 
force  to  be  reckoned  with.  Every  man's  rights  and  obhgations 
are  fixed  by  custom.  The  very  vengeance  taken  on  those  who 
infringe  them  is  a  custom  and  directed  in  all  its  details  by  tradi- 
tion. The  headman  or  the  elders  of  the  clan  or  village  are  pre- 
pared to  listen  to  complaints,  to  decide  whether  a  wrong  has  been 
done,  and,  if  so,  what  the  reparation  ought  to  be.  The  injured 
party  may  appeal  to  them  if  he  pleases,  and  it  may  be  that  the 
aggressor  will  abide  by  their  decision.  If  so,  the  affair  is  arranged 
perhaps  by  composition,  perhaps  by  a  stated  penalty.  Other- 
wise the  parties  will  fight  it  out  or  it  will  come  to  a  feud.  Hence 
there  is  an  effort  on  the  part  of  the  leading  men  to  keep  the 
peace  and  adjust  the  quarrel.  Sometimes  they  will  intervene 
of  themselves  if  a  feud  becomes  serious  and  threatens  the 
general  peace. 

The  "  court,"  if  so  it  may  be  called,  appears  at  this  stage  rather 
as  peacemaker  than  judge.  The  disputants  may  ignore  it,  pre- 
ferring to  trust  to  their  own  strength  and  that  of  their  friends. 
Yet  it  is  from  the  first  the  avenger's  interest  to  have  public 
opinion  with  him.  He  relies  on  the  countenance  and  practical 
help  of  his  kindred  and  fellow-tribesmen.  At  least  he  must 
avert  their  opposition.  If  the  facts  are  peculiarly  flagrant  the 
neighbours  will  be  with  him  and  he  will  have  the  less  difficulty 
in  executing  vengeance.  Perhaps  even  the  kindred  of  the  wrong- 
doer wiU  refuse  to  stand  by  him.  Thus  it  becomes  the  interest 
of  the  avenger  to  make  his  case  plain  to  the  neighbours,  and 
they  in  turn  ■wish  to  hear  v/hat  the  accused  party  has  to  say. 
A  palaver  is  held.  The  avenger  comes  with  his  kinsmen  and 
friends.  They  state  their  case  and  announce  their  intention  of 
seeking  revenge.  The  accused  is  also  present,  backed  by  his 
kin,  and  repels  the  demands  made  on  him.  It  may  be  that  the 
matter  is  settled  between  the  groups  concerned.  It  may  be 
that  the  neighbours  or  the  chief  give  sentence,  but  even  so  it  does 
not  follow  that  they  enforce  it.  They  may  give  the  appellant 
their  moral  support,  and  leave  it  to  him  to  obtain  satisfaction 
as  best  he  can.  But,  of  course,  their  decision  helps  him  to  get  the 
opinion  of  the  tribe  on  his  side,  and  their  moral  force  will  be 
translatable  into  physical  force.  It  will  mean  so  many  more 
backers  for  him,  and  so  many  less  for  his  opponents.  This  support 
may  be  disdained  by  the  strong,  but  it  will  be  valued  by  the  weak, 
and  will  be  upheld  by  those  who  desire  internal  peace.  Feuds 
are  averted  by  the  adjustment  of  disputes,  or,  if  a  A\Tong  has  been 
done,  by  getting  the  complainant  to  accept  composition  and  the 
aggressor  to  undergo  some  penalty  which  will  be  a  mitigated  form 


LAW  AND  JUSTICE  101 

of  revenge,  or  by  bringing  the  two  parties  to  fight  it  out  under 
the  regular  forms  of  a  duel. 

Such  methods  of  mitigating  the  blood  feud  are  stimulated  by 
the  growth  of  the  kingly  power — that  is  to  say,  of  an  organized 
force  outside  the  contending  families  or  clans,  which  can  sum- 
mon them  before  its  bar,  decide  their  cause,  and  require  them 
to  keep  the  peace.  The  king,  whose  duty  and  interest  it  is  to 
maintain  public  order,  treats  crime — or  certain  kinds  of  crime — 
no  longer  as  an  offence  against  the  individual  whom  it  primarily 
affects,  but  as  a  menace  to  pubhc  tranquillity,  a  breach  of  his 
"  peace."  ^  This,  if  he  is  strong  enough,  he  will  punish  directly  ; 
if  not  sufficiently  strong,  he  will  deprive  the  offender  of  his 
protection,  put  him  outside  the  king's  peace,  and  compel  him  by 
fine  to  buy  back  what  he  has  lost.  Thus  we  find  crime  punish- 
able by  wite  as  well  as  by  bot — a  fine  to  the  king  side  by  side 
with  compensation  to  the  kinsfolk. 

But  from  moral  assistance  the  transition  to  physical  assist- 
ance is  not  very  difficult  in  idea,  however  slow  and  cumbrous  it 
may  have  been  in  practice.  There  is  more  than  one  method  of 
transition.  Sometimes  we  find  the  public  authority,  the  elders 
or  the  whole  body  of  the  neighbours,  or  later  the  regular  magis- 
trate, exerting  themselves  to  arrest  the  offender  and  handing 
him  over  to  the  avenger  of  blood  for  execution,  or  judging 
between  the  avenger  of  blood  and  the  man-slayer,  whose  act  was 
"  unwitting."  Thus  in  Deuteronomy,  if  the  dehberate  murderer 
flies  to  a  city  of  refuge,  "  then  the  elders  of  his  city  shall  send  and 
fetch  him  thence,  and  deliver  him  into  the  hand  of  the  avenger 
of  blood  that  he  may  die."^  But  v/ithout  taking  an  active 
part  in  the  pursuit  and  capture  of  the  offender  the  court  had  an 

1  Common  in  Germanic  law.  See,  for  England,  Pollock  and  Maitland, 
ii.  451.  The  Kaffirs  distinguish  (1)  offences  against  the  king,  which  consist 
in  infringements  upon  his  property  or  the  number  of  his  subjects.  In 
these  they  include  treason,  sorcery,  murder,  cruelty,  rape,  and  abortion. 
(2)  Offences  against  private  people,  which  include  adultery,  inmiorality, 
theft,  injury  to  a  garden,  etc.  A  similar  distinction  is  found  among  the 
Kimbunda  (Post,  A.  J.,  ii.  54).  This  is  in  effect  a  rudimentary  distinction 
between  civil  and  criminal  justice,  and  shows  at  least  one  avenue  of 
transition  to  the  conception  of  public  crime.  The  notion  of  injury  to 
an  individual  is  applied  to  the  king,  but  owing  to  the  king's  special 
relation  to  the  community,  the  notion,  in  being  applied  to  him,  is 
unavoidably  extended  and  modified.  In  fact,  potentially  it  covers  all 
anti-social  action. 

^  Deut.  xix.  12.  So  still  in  the  priestly  code.  Numbers,  xxxv.  12-25. 
Tlie  law  of  the  Germanic  peoples,  in  the  Prankish  period,  appears  in  a 
transitional  stage.  The  Eastern  Goths,  Burgundians,  Bavarians,  and 
Anglo-Saxons  left  execution  to  the  complainant.  The  law  of  the  Western 
Goths  excluded  private  execution ;  the  Salic  law  gave  the  complainant  the 
choice  (Schroder,  p.  371). 


102  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

effective  weapon  in  the  pov^cr  of  outlawiy.  Since  in  accordance 
\\itli  early  ideas  all  personal  rights  depend  upon  membership  of  a 
society  united  for  mutual  protection,  it  follows  that  the  man 
excluded  from  the  group  is  in  the  position  of  a  stranger  and  an 
enemy ;  he  is  a  wolf's  head,  a  wild  animal  whom  the  first  comer 
may  put  to  death  at  sight,  with  whom  nobody  may  associate,  to 
whom  nobody  may  give  food  or  lodging.  Outlawry  can  there- 
fore be  applied  either  as  a  punishment  or  as  a  process — as  a 
method  of  bringing  the  accused  into  court.  Wliat  more  reason- 
able than  that  if  he  will  not  submit  to  law  he  shall  lose  the  pro- 
tection of  the  law  ?  With  this  weapon,  potent  in  proportion  as 
the  social  order  is  developed,  the  court  of  early  law  consohdates 
its  authority,  and  from  a  board  of  conciHation  of  uncertain  powers 
and  irregular  constitution,  becomes  an  estabhshed  authority 
administering  public  Justice,  with  compulsory  powers  before 
which  either  party  can  be  summoned  to  appear  at  the  instance  of 
his  opponent. 

(f)  The  Inner  Growp  and  the  Wider  Society. — When  we  speak 
of  public  justice  we  have  in  mind,  of  course,  a  community 
with  recognizable  limits.  But  aggressions  may  be  perpetrated 
by  members  of  another  community  and  there  may  then  be  no 
common  court  of  appeal.  In  a  circle  of  civilized  communities 
all  private  offences  would  come  under  the  jurisdiction  of  one 
community  or  the  other.  If  an  Englishman  should  be  robbed 
in  France,  he  would  seek  satisfaction  in  the  French  courts. 
It  is  only  the  class  of  grave  public  differences  for  which  civihza- 
tion  has  not  yet  succeeded  in  estabhshing  a  public  justice 
which  should  include  the  community  of  the  world.  But  in  the 
simpler  societies  aggression  by  an  outsider  may  give  rise  to 
retahation  on  the  part  of  the  sufferer  or  his  friends,  and  the  result 
may  be  a  feud  between  neighbouring  villages  or  tribes.^  If  the 
feud  is  organized  by  the  village  as  a  whole,  and  led  by  the  chief, 
we  should  call  it  war,  but  when  it  is  conducted  by  the  injured 
party  on  their  own  account,  it  is  true  self-redress  and  may  be 
called  External  Retahation.  Now  we  have  seen  that  in  the 
lowest  cultural  levels  the  community  is  very  small,  consisting 
for  the  most  part  of  near  relations,  or  at  any  rate  of  neighbours 
and  friends.     Such  a  community  \\ill  protect  its  own  members 

^  Soroetimes  it  seems  to  be  retaliation  of  this  kind  which  our  authorities 
have  in  view  when  thej''  speak  of  the  prevalence  of  blood  revenge.  Thus, 
among  the  Bagobos,  blood  revenge  is  said  to  be  common,  but  it  seems  to 
be  practised  as  between  different  villages,  offences  within  the  village  being 
compoundable  (Schadenbcrg,  Z.  E.,  xvii.  28).  Among  the  Igorottes, 
vengeance  was  exercised  upon  members  of  other  villages,  but  not,  we 
conjecture,  within  it  (see  Blumentritt,  in  Peterman,  Ergbd,  1882,  p.  237). 


LAW  AND  JUSTICE  103 

and  will  present  a  certran  solidarity  as  against  the  rest  of  the 
world.  Yet  it  may  also  be  on  social  terms  with  other  similar 
communities,  visiting  them,  bartering  with  them.,  intermarrying 
\vith  them,  perhaps  OA\'ning  certain  lands  in  common,  having  a 
common  cult  and  ceremonies,  recognizing  a  common  tribal 
name,  and  even  prepared  on  occasion  tp  make  common  cause 
against  outsiders.  Something  like  this  is  the  normal  relation  of 
the  Australian  local  group  to  the  tribe,  and  even,  perhaps,  to 
distinct  but  contiguous  tribes.^  Now  public  justice  may  very 
well  be  developed  within  the  smaller  group,  but  not  bej'^ond  it, 
and  this  appears,  in  fact,  to  have  been  the  case  in  Austraha. 
Thus,  among  the  Yuin,  if  a  man  Idlled  one  of  his  own  local  group, 
he  was  put  to  death  by  order  of  the  headmen,  but  a  murder  by  one 
of  another  group  gave  rise  either  to  vengeance  or  an  expiatory 
meeting.^  And  among  the  Boulia  people,  while  vengeance  within 
the  group  was  controlled  as  we  have  seen,  murder  by  one  of  an 
alhed  group  was  revenged  by  spear-thro^^ing  and  not  always 
by  the  exaction  of  one  life  alone.^  These  are  more  Hke  acts  of 
retahatory  justice — mitigated  and  regulated,  no  doubt — ^^^ithin 
a  loosely  united  society  than  of  warfare  between  two  distinct 
societies.  The  relations  are  comparable  to  those  of  two  or  more 
clans  which  combine  to  form  one  tribe  but  still  retain  each  the 
right  of  protecting  and  avenging  its  own  members.  We  have 
seen  above  that  relations  within  the  clan  may  be  quite  different 
from  those  between  clan  and  clan.  Among  the  Wyandots,  quite 
an  elaborate  juridical  system  was  based  on  this  distinction. 
An  offence  within  the  gens  was  tried  and  settled  by  the  gentile 
council.  An  offence  against  a  member  of  another  gens  was  a 
matter  for  negotiation,  and,  that  failing,  retahation  on  the  gens 
at  fault.*  Now  the  clans  of  a  tribe  which  has  a  common  council 
or  a  chief,  clearly  form  one  society,  and  retaliation  between  them 
is  a  case  of  self-redress  within  a  society.  The  Australian  local 
groups  do  not  so  clearly  form  a  society,  and  retahation  as  between 
them  is  not  so  clearly  a  case  of  private  justice  but  might  instead 
be  called  private  war.  But  this  is  not  because  the  Australians 
are  more  advanced  than  the  Wyandots  in  general  provision  for 
the  maintenance  of  individuals  in  their  rights,  but  because  they 
are  less  so,  because  society,  beyond  a  very  small  group,  is  more 
amorphous  and  less  orderly.     To  get  a  fair  comparative  view  of 

^  All  the  above  conditions,  for  instance,  would  hold  of  the  groups  or,  as 
he  calls  them,  tribes,  of  the  Boulia  district,  as  described  by  Roth  (op.  cit., 
p.  41). 

-  Howitt,  pp.  342,  343.  »  Roth,  140. 

*  Powell,  R.  B.  E.,  i.  p.  66.  In  the  case  of  murder  there  seems  to  have 
been  an  appeal  to  the  tribal  council,  but  with  what  effect  is  not  clear. 


104  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

the  stages  by  which  justice  is  estabhshed,  then,  we  shall  do  best 
by  ranging  the  justice  within  the  Australian  local  group  (though 
that  is  not  necessarily  confined  to  a  kindred)  with  that  of  the 
Wyandot  clan,  and  that  of  the  Australian  tribe  with  that  of  the 
Wyandot  tribe. 

It  is  natural  that  something  of  the  nature  of  impartial  justice 
should  be  found  in  the  small  groups  that  constitute  the  primitive 
constituents  of  society  before  it  extends  to  larger  communities. 
In  the  hunting  peoples  of  the  Indo-Malay  region,  where  the 
enlarged  family  is  the  society,  we  hear  comparatively  little  of 
retaliation  and  self-help,  and  sometimes  order  seems  to  be  en- 
forced and  justice  done  by  the  elders  of  the  group.^  So  far  there 
is  something  of  an  analogy  to  public  justice,  but  the  analogy  is 
only  obtained  by  dropping  out  the  essential  differences  between 
a  society  consisting  of  a  couple  of  score  of  near  relatives  and  a 
people  like  the  Five  Nations  of  the  Iroquois,  to  say  nothing  of  a 
civilized  state.  At  the  level  where  vengeance  is  organized,  the 
unit  is  precisely  a  family  group  comparable  to  and  often  much 
greater  than  the  entire  community  of  the  forest  or  jungle  peoples, 
and  the  evolution  of  public  justice  and  order  is  essentially  a 
problem  of  estabhshing  equitable  relations  and  peaceful  co- 
operation between  such  bodies,  and  so  constituting  a  political 
society.  To  follow  the  evolution  of  justice  intelligently,  then,  we 
must  distinguish  the  cases  where  it  is  estabhshed  within  a  con- 
stituent group  from  those  in  which  it  holds  for  a  wider  society. 
Public  justice,  in  the  full  sense,  should  onl}^  be  asserted  when  it 
prevails  in  a  society  which  is  larger  than  a  family  group,  and 
when  it  holds,  not  only  within  but  between  the  constituent  groups 
of  such  a  society. 

8.  The  Development  of  Public  Justice. — We  have,  then, 
numerous  gradations  of  "  public  justice,"  from  slight  and 
partial  beginnings  to  a  complete  system  of  control  over  the 
more  important  relations  of  men,  and  any  of  these  gradations 
may  be  found  either  within  an  inner  group  or  in  an  extended 
society.  How  far  can  we  trace  any  actual  social  development 
along  the  line  of  these  gradations  ?  The  materials  at  hand  for 
an  answer  are  (1)  recorded  history,  (2)  the  indirect  evidence  of 
ethnology.  To  begin  Avith  the  second,  we  can  apply  more  than 
one  test.  First,  we  divide  forms  of  justice  into  three  grades.  In 
the  lowest  we  place  cases  where  we  have  evidence  of  self -redress, 
■with  or  without  composition  or  the  regulated  fight.  We  add 
cases  where  we  are  told  definitely  that  there  is  no  regular  method 
^  e.  g.  among  the  Negritos  of  Aiigat. 


LAW  AND  JUSTICE  105 

of  redress,  though  evidence  of  this  kind  must  be  received  with  a 
certain  amount  of  caution.  We  do  not  eHminate  any  case  from 
this  class  on  account  of  "  occasional  "  intervention  as  explained 
above,  because  that  stands  in  strong  contrast  with  regular  justice ; 
nor  on  account  of  "tribal  "  offences,  because  we  are  considering 
justice  as  between  man  and  man,  nor,  lastlj^,  on  account  of 
methods  of  the  peaceful  settlement  of  disputes  Avhich  do  not  carry 
authority.  In  this  grade,  then,  self -redress  predominates.  In 
the  next  grade  we  have  (1)  cases  in  which  the  avenger  is  either 
assisted  or  controlled  by  pubHc  force,  or  can  get  the  judgment  of 
a  public  court  to  sanction  his  act.  We  add  (2)  cases  in  which 
there  is  public  punishment  for  some  offences,  e.  g.  murder,  but 
not  for  others,  c.  g.  rape  and  theft ;  and  (3)  cases,  not  uncommon, 
in  which  there  is  a  fully  established  system  of  public  justice,  but 
self-redress  is  still  a  recognized  custom  and  unpunished.  Our 
third  grade  consists  of  cases  where  a  regular  system  of  public 
justice  deals  normally  with  all  serious  disputes  and  grave  offences. 
When  we  compare  these  three  grades  with  our  economic  classi- 
fication, we  find  (1)  a  continuous  increase  in  public  justice  from 
the  Lower  Hunters  to  the  Higher  Pastoral  and  Agricultural, 
(2)  in  self-redress  a  corresponding  descent  from  the  Higher 
Hunters  to  the  Highest  Agriculture.  But  the  Lower  Hunters 
do  not  show  so  high  a  percentage  as  the  Higher  Hunters  if  we 
take  into  account  the  cases  where  there  is  a  partial  development 
of  public  justice  within  the  Austrahan  local  group  or  the  Indo- 
Malayan  enlarged  family.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  we  take 
account  only  of  justice  in  the  wider  society,  we  have  a  con- 
tinuous decline  in  this  grade,  corresponding  to  the  continuous 
rise  in  pubhc  justice.^ 

There  is,  however,  a  sense  in  which  the  Austrahans  are  more 
advanced  than  the  Higher  Hunters,  and  this  is  brought  out  by  a 
slight  modification  of  our  grades.  This  modification  is  prompted 
by  the  difficulty  of  defining  the  beginnings  of  pubhc  assistance 
or  control.  We  felt  that  in  some  way  or  other  perhaps  every 
Austrahan  group,  and,  indeed,  every  small  and  compact  society, 
would,  if  all  the  facts  were  known,  exliibit  some  beginnings  of 
such  supervision,  and  we  therefore  broke  up  our  two  first  grades 
into  three,  the  second  being  intended  to  exhibit  pubhc  assistance 
in  germ.  We  then  had  four  classes  altogether  :  (1)  where  there 
was  self -redress,  or  "no  law,"  and  pubhc  punishments  only 
"occasional  "  or  for  tribal  offences ;    (2)  where  there  were  regu- 

^  Simpler  Peoples,  p.  68  ff.  The  Higher  Pastoral  show  a  rather  larger 
fraction  than  the  Higher  Agricuhural.  The  Lower  Pastoral,  on  the  other 
hand,  are  below  the  Lowest  Agricultural. 


106  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

lated  or  expiatory  encounters,  or  arbitration,  or  some  public 
punishments,  assistance,  or  control  combined  with  the  independent 
existence  of  self-redress;  (3)  (a)  where  public  assistance  or 
control  or  public  punishments  in  certain  cases  are  recorded 
ivithout  any  evidence  of  mere  self -redress,  and  (6)  where  self- 
redress  remains  as  an  alternative  to  regular  public  justice ;  ^ 
(4)  regular  public  justice,  as  before.  The  result  of  this  classi- 
fication is  to  show  that  the  Lower  Hunters  have  a  larger  pro- 
portion in  the  second  grade  than  in  the  first  ,2  whereas  -with  the 
Higher  Hunters  and  even  the  lowest  Agriculturist  it  is  the  other 
way.  This  is  the  only  important  irregularity.  If  we  combine 
the  two  lower  grades  as  cases  in  which  self-redress  predomin- 
ates, and  the  two  higher  as  cases  in  which  public  justice 
predominates,  we  find  a  close  correspondence  with  the  economic 
grading.  The  following  gives  the  figures  ^  in  each  economic 
class,  and  also  reduces  them  to  a  fraction  of  the  total  number 
of  recorded  instances. 


Lower  Hunter 
Higher  Hunter  *  . 
Lower  Agriculture 
Lower  Pastoral   . 
Agriculture    . 
Higher  Pastoral 
Higher  Agriculture 

Further,  when  the  classification  is  applied  to  each  continent 
severally,  the  correlation  holds  in  the  main,  though  in  certain 

1  i.  e.  if  self-redress  is  combined  with  a  partial  or  incipient  public 
justice  it  drags  the  case  down  to  the  second  grade.  If  it  is  combined 
(as  an  alternative)  with  a  regular  system  of  public  justice,  it  does  not. 

2  In  apportioning  the  Australians  to  one  or  other  of  the  first  two  grades 
we  are  in  agreement  with  the  final  judgment  of  Howitt,  who  paid  special 
attention  to  this  branch  of  Australian  sociology.  "  It  will  be  evident  that 
a  distinction  is  drawn  between  offences  which  merely  affect  the  individual 
and  are  therefore  left  for  him  to  redress,  and  those  which  may  be  called 
tribal  offences,  siich  as  murder  by  evil  magic,  breaches  of  the  exogamous 
law,  or  revealing  the  secrets  of  the  initiation  ceremonies.  Such  offences 
were  dealt  with  by  the  elders  and  their  leader,  the  headman  of  the  tribe  " 
(p.  35-1). 

'  For  the  wider  society,  not  for  the  inner  or  primary  group.  The 
fractions  arise  from  the  counting  of  "probable"  cases  and  partial 
instances  (portions  of  a  group)  as  one-half. 

*  Including  a  group  of  Dependent  Hunters,  i.  e.  Indian  and  other  jungle 
tribes  living  in  close  association  with  more  civilized  people,  and  probably 
much  affected  by  them.  Omitting  them,  the  fractions  for  tha  Higher 
Hunters  would  be  -92,  -08,  -05. 


Self-redress 

Public  justice 

Public  justice 

predominating. 

predo7ninating. 

regidar. 

.    501  (-98) 

1    (-02) 

0(0) 

.    59"  (-84) 

Hi  (-16) 

4    (  -05) 

.    24    (-72) 

94  (-28) 

6    (  -18) 

.      9^  (-70) 

4    (.30) 

1     (  -07) 

.    57     (-57) 

43    (-43) 

21|(  -21) 

.      6     (-39) 

n  (-61) 

7^  (  -48) 

3  .    26    (-29) 

64*  (-71) 

.     37i  (  -41) 

LAW  AND  JUSTICE  107 

cases  the  numbers  are  too  small  to  be  of  value  for  purposes  of 
computation.^ 

It  must  be  added  that  when  we  find  a  partial  public  justice 
in  the  lowest  economic  grades,  the  circumstances  make  it  suffi- 
ciently clear  that  the  niotive  is  to  prevent  self -redress.  In 
the  case  of  the  Queensland  tribes,  where  the  evidence  for  pubhc 
justice  is  the  most  definite  that  we  have,  this  is  not  only  clear 
from  the  nature  of  the  offences  dealt  with,^  but  is  specifically 
indicated  by  Mr.  Roth,  who  says  that  the  determined  efforts 
to  stop  quarrels  are  due  to  their  tendency  to  spread  through  the 
whole  camp,  all  the  tribal  brothers  on  each  side  taking  them  up. 
The  regulated  fights  and  the  negotiations  and  discussions  in  such 
tribes  as  the  Narrinyeri  and  the  West  Victoria  group,  all  point 
the  same  way.  They  are  means  of  avoiding  serious  battles 
and  persistent  vendettas.  Possibly  the  structure  of  Austrahan 
society,  with  its  marriage  classes  cutting  across  the  local  groups 
and  building  up  complex  relations  between  group  and  group, 
possibly  also  the  nomadic  habits  breeding  casual  intercourse  with 
outsiders,  together  with  the  strong  development  of  the  behef 
in  witchcraft  as  the  cause  of  natural  death,  may  have  given 
to  these  attempts  to  mitigate  vendettas  the  special  prominence 
which  they  occupy  in  Austrahan  social  life.^  Be  that  as  it  may, 
we  can  say  with  some  definiteness  that  among  the  considerable 
number  of  peoples  known  of  the  lowest  hunting  levels,  there  is 
no  case  of  regular  pubhc  justice  beyond  the  limits  of  the  enlarged 
family,  and  that  whatever  pubhc  intervention  in  private  rela- 
tions is  found,  is  clearly  an  attempt  to  mitigate  retahation. 
The  "  intensive  "  development  of  justice  is  matched  by  the 
extension,  wliich  is  also  roughly  correlated  with  general  cultural 
advance,  of  the  society  which  forms  the  unit  \\ithin  which  it 
holds  good.     At  tlie  lowest  stage  we  have  self-redress  in  some 

1  The  only  class  that  causes  any  doubt  is  that  of  the  "Dependent 
Hunters  "  in  Asia.  These  occupy  in  some  cases  an  ambiguous  position 
between  tribes  and  castes,  while  in  any  case  they  have  been  greatly  in- 
fluenced, especially  as  respects  governmental  arrangements,  by  the 
more  civilized  societies  to  which  they  belong.  If,  however,  we  include 
the  more  independent  among  them  with  the  other  Higher  Hunters,  we 
get  in  the  result  a  ratio  which  is  just  the  same  as  that  for  the  Lowest 
Agricultvue. 

*  e.  g.  homicide,  as  such,  is  no  crime.  If  a  man  kills  his  wife  he  must 
give  up  a  sister  to  his  wife's  friends  for  death.  Homicide  is  punishable 
with  death  when  it  would  lead  to  revenge  (Roth,  p.  141). 

*  Further,  the  expiatory  meeting  is  a  form  of  atonement,  which  is 
replaced  among  the  Higher  Hunters,  and  still  more  by  more  advanced 
societies,  by  composition.  But  composition  is  not  so  provocative  of  formal 
interference  by  outsiders,  and  does  not,  therefore,  for  our  purpose,  remove 
a  case  from  the  lowest  class. 


108  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

instances  even  within  the  enlarged  family ;  then  it  appears 
mainly  as  between  kinsfolk  or  local  groups  in  a  tribe  or  a  sub- 
stantial village.  Then  there  is  peace  within  the  village,  and 
feuds  of  villages,  till  these  are  welded  into  a  petty  state.  Retalia- 
tion now  becomes  distinctly  differentiated  from  war,  but  war 
itself  is,  at  bottom,  the  self -redress  of  a  community  within  the 
entire  circle  of  nations,  and  the  final  ehmination  of  the  principle 
it  embodies  is  yet  to  come. 

There  is  further  direct  historical  evidence  among  most  civiHzed 
peoples  of  a  development  from  the  private  to  the  public  system. 
Ancient  Egypt  is  the  principal  exception.  Here  we  have  no 
evidence  from  the  shght  indications  in  the  records  of  private 
justice^  or  even  of  a  transitional  stage.  Regular  courts  with 
witnesses  existed  from  the  old  Kingdom,^  and  we  observe  that 
even  political  criminals  were  brought  to  trial. ^  Torture  was 
used,  and  under  certain  circumstances  we  read  of  something 
like  an  oath  of  purgation.*  The  death  penalty  was  not  infre- 
quent, though  in  the  18th  Dynasty  reserved  for  Pharaoh.^ 
Mutilation,  especially  the  cutting  off  of  the  nose  or  ears,  was  in 
use,  and  the  rod  is  the  regular  mark  of  justice.^  The  too  insistent 
complainant  might  himself  get  beaten.'^  Punishment,  at  least 
in  political  cases,  might  be  collective,  involving  a  man's  whole 
family.^     The  kingly  power  was  arbitrary  and  might  be  tyran- 

1  Apart  from  the  right  to  kill  a  faithless  wife  and  her  lover  (Gardiner, 
Enc.  Religion,  art.  "  Ethics  and  Morality — Egyptian,"  p.  480). 

*  Erman,  Aus  dem.  Pap.,  p.  82.      (Witnesses  required  in  a  will  suit.) 

'  e.  g.  in  the  Harem  conspiracy  (20th  Dynasty),  where  the  judges  are 
even  warned  against  over-zeal  (Breasted,  Ancient  Records,  iv.  esp.  p.  213). 
Even  in  the  summary  treatment  of  treason  the  accused  are  to  be  con- 
fronted with  witnesses  and  then  drowned  secretly  (Erman,  Fall  Ahgekur. 
Justiz.,  p.  9  et  seq.). 

*  In  the  story  of  Peteesi  (Griffith,  iii.  105),  two  priests  are  made  to  swear 
that  they  are  not  guilty  and  to  pay  damages.  Perhaps  they  are  paying 
for  their  fellows  who  had  done  the  mischief  (cf.  Breasted,  Records,  iv. 
259).  The  oath  here  is  a  kind  of  conditional  curse,  and  is  apparently 
taken  as  sufficient  purgation  after  a  severe  examination.  For  the  torture 
of  a  woman,  cf.  p.  271.     The  instrument  was  the  bastinado. 

6  Gardiner,  480. 

*  A  private  citizen  of  the  5th  Dynasty  is  pleased  with  himself  because 
"  Never  was  I  beaten  in  the  presence  of  any  official  since  my  birth  " 
(Breasted,  i.  125). 

'  See  incidents  in  the  story  of  the  Eloquent  Peasant  (Gardiner,  Die 
Klage  des  Bauern,  p.  12),  which  is  a  stinging  satire  on  official  indifference. 

*  "  Slay  him  (an  unruly  vassal),  wipe  out  his  name,  [destroy  ?]  his  kins- 
folk; suppress  his  memory  [and?]  his  dependants  who  [?]  love  him." 
Instructions  of  King  Mery-ke-re  (Middle  Kingdom,  Gardiner,  Journal  Eg. 
Arch.,  Jan.  1914,  p.  24).  Cf.  (he  extradition  treaty  of  Piameses  II.,  where 
the  punishment  of  wife  and  children  is  barred  by  agreement  (Breasted, 
iii.  173),  and  the  curse  calling  on  Isis  to  pursue  the  wife  and  Horus  the 
children  of  the  offender  (ib.,  p.  86). 


LAW  AND  JUSTICE  109 

nical,^  but  we  hear  of  enactments  against  official  extortion 
corruption .2  On  the  other  hand,  the  true  norm  of  punishment 
is  ideally  fixed  by  the  gods,  priests  formed  the  tribunals, 
and  in  the  New  Kingdom  petty  cases  were  decided  at  the  local 
shrines .3  On  the  whole,  justice  in  its  earlier  phase,  regulated 
in  principle,  more  or  less  arbitrary  in  effect,  using  in  the 
main  rational  procedure  but  employing  torture,  the  rod,  and 
severity  in  punishment,  tending  to  laxity  and  corruptness  in 
administration,  is  fairly  exemplified  in  ancient  Egypt. 

In  all  other  civilized  codes  we  find  liistorical  evidences  of  an 
originally  private  system  and  a  gradual  transition  to  rational 
pubhc  justice.  In  the  code  of  Hammurabi,  courts  exist  and 
witnesses  are  mentioned,  but  that  punishments  were  always 
public,  except  in  the  case  of  the  erring  wife,  does  not  seem  so 
clear  as  KoMer  and  Peiser  think  {Hammurabi's  Gesetz,  §  126). 
Certainly  the  provisions  for  punishment  are  saturated  with  the 
ideas  of  the  blood  feud  (cf.  above,  pp.  85-88).  In  India  the  law 
books  present  us  with  developed  codes  of  pubhc  justice,  but  self- 
help  is  allowed  in  certain  cases,  and  in  others  it  is  open  to  every 
man  to  execute  the  offender  (Oldenburg,  in  Mommsen,  p.  72). 
Thus,  in  Manu,  a  list  is  given  of  eighteen  cases  with  which  the 
courts  deal  (viii.  4-7),  but  self-help  is  countenanced,  and  homi- 
cide is  justifiable,  "  in  a  strife  for  the  fees  of  officiating  priests, 
and  in  order  to  protect  women  and  Brahmanas."  "  By  killing 
an  assassin  the  slayer  incurs  no  guilt,  whether  he  does  it  pubhcly 
or  secretly."  *  Further,  crimes  in  general  were  atonable,  including 
murder,  except  that  of  a  Brahman.  The  fine  went  originally  to 
the  family,  and  so  was  true  composition,  depending  on  the  caste 
of  slayer  and  slain.  In  the  law  books,  however,  it  falls  to  the 
king.  Chinese  tradition  places  the  first  pubhc  execution  in  the 
reign  of  Huang-ti,  2601  B.C.,  before  wliich  time  chiefs  had  fought 
with  one  another  and  taken  no  prisoners  (Alabaster,  52).  The 
ten  "  abominations  "  include  offences  against  the  State,  rehgion 
and  the  family,  but  no  ordinary  "  private  "  offence.  Apart 
from  these  ten  all  offences  were  commutable,  though,  at  least  in 
modern  law,  at  the  discretion  only  of  the  sovereign  (Oppenheimer, 
p.  111).    The  fact,  however,  is  rightly  taken  by  Dr.  Oppenheimer 

^  See  the  curious  recommendations  in  the  Instructions  of  Mery-ke-re, 
loc.  cit.,  p.  26. 

^  Breasted,  iii.  26,  31,  etc.  Contrast,  however,  Griffith,  Papyri,  iii.  98  : 
"  There  is  no  profit  in  going  into  the  house  of  judgment.  Tliine  adversary 
is  richer  than  thou." 

*  Cf.  Gardiner,  Enc.  Rel.,  loc.  cit.,  p.  480. 

*  Manu,  viii.  348-51 ;  cf.  Vasishtha,  iii.  15-18,  24,  who  among  six  kinds 
of  assassins  reckons  an  incendiary  and  the  abductor  of  another's  wife. 


110  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

as  evidence  of  their  original  character  as  private  wrongs.  In 
the  present  law  vengeance  and  composition  are  in  general  for- 
bidden (Alabaster,  pp.  5,  6),  but  a  son  is  justified  in  kilhng  his 
father's  murderer  on  the  spot  {ib.,  165),  and  if  he  kills  him  after- 
wards wiU  only  be  bambooed.  Similarly,  the  husband  may  kill 
his  wife's  lover  on  the  spot,  and  the  wife  herself  with  a  relatively 
light  penalty  {ib.,  251).  Primitive  Arabic  justice  is  founded  on 
revenge,  and  both  the  Israehte  and  Mohammedan  codes  are 
developed  on  these  lines.  In  Mohammedan  law  retaliation  still 
plays  a  considerable  part.  In  Mohammed's  time  the  blood  feud 
was  in  full  vigour.  Mohammed  imposed  the  death  penalty  by 
law  for  wilful  murder  and  enforced  composition  for  involuntary 
homicide,  the  wer  being  one-half  for  a  woman  and  one-fifteenth 
for  a  pagan,  all  the  kin  being  responsible  for  it  (Dareste,  p.  64). 
Wounds  are  also  punishable  by  retahation  or  composition 
{ib.,  and  Hughes,  Dictionary  of  Islam,  p.  481).  The  retaliation 
is  executed  by  the  next  of  kin  (Hughes,  481),  but,  if  legitimate, 
only  Mdth  the  judgment  of  a  court.  Private  revenge  without 
sanction  is,  however,  not  entirely  excluded  (Post,  i.  260). 

The  distinction  of  private  and  pubHc  offences  lies  at  the 
foundation  of  Roman  law.  Perdu ellio,  a  direct  act  of  hostility 
to  the  state,  is  the  oldest  pubHc  crime  (Hitzig,  in  Mommsen,  p. 
37).  Parricide  as  a  crime  is  older  than  the  XH  Tables  and  by 
tradition  as  old  as  Numa.  But  the  original  meaning  of  the  word 
is  not  certain  {ib.,  38 ;  Oppenheimer,  pp.  121,  122).  If  it  included 
the  killing  of  any  free  Roman  this  is  a  case  of  public  punishment 
of  a  private  offence  from  a  very  early  epoch.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  "law  of  Numa,"  "si  quis  hominem  liberum  dolo  sciens  morti 
duit  parricidas  esto,"  seems  to  preserve  the  tradition  of  some 
narrower  scope  for  the  original  meaning  of  paracidium,  and  of 
some  definite  institution  by  which  murder  of  a  free  man  was 
identified  with  it  and  for  the  first  time  publicly  punished.  That 
private  vengeance  held  for  homicide  Hitzig,  {I.e.)  takes  as  probable 
but  unproven.  Bodily  injuries,  however,  are  still  punishable  in 
the  code  of  the  XII  Tables  by  talion,  or  compensation,  and  the 
law  made  no  distinction  between  intentional  injury  and  neglect 
(Hitzig,  p.  42).  Later  developments  of  the  law  enforced  the 
acceptance  of  composition,  and  distinguished  intentional  from 
unintentional  injury.  The  killing  of  the  fur  manifestus  is  recog- 
nized in  the  XII  Tables,  while  the  fur  nee  mmiifestus  pays  double 
the  value.  Only  theft  of  crops  is  a  public  offence  {ib.,  p.  39). 
The  unchaste  daughter  or  wife  were  judged  originally  by  the 
domestic  tribunal,  and  the  adulterer  might  be  killed  if  taken  in 
flagranti.    The  punishment  of  rape  as  a  public  offence  is  not 


LAW  AND  JUSTICE  111 

primitive  {ib.,  p.  41).  Altogether  the  history  of  private  ofiPences 
shows  the  gradual  suppression  of  self-help.  The  first  step  is  to 
regularize  and  restrict  it,  the  next  to  protect  agreements  for 
composition,  the  next  to  enforce  it  on  botli  parties  {ib.,  p.  36). 
In  general,  the  development, of  Roman  criminal  law  moves 
clearly  from  the  stage  when  only  "  pubhc  "  offences  are  puLUcly 
punished,  through  the  regularization  of  private  vengeance, 
to  the  principle  that  a  serious  offence  against  a  free  man, 
and  finally  even  the  "unfree,"  is  an  offence  against  the  state. 
The  only  obscure  point  is  the  early  history  of  murder. 

Early  Greek  custom  was  under  the  protection  of  the  oath  or 
curse  (cf.  Iliad,  IX.  453-6,  the  curse  on  Phoenix — 

O^ol  8   iriXecov  €7rapas 
Zevs  T€  KaTa)(66vio<;  Kai  €iTo.ivr]  Ilepore^oi/eia) 

and  of  the  gods,  in  particular  of  Zeus  who  sent  storms  if  men  "  by 
violence  gave  crooked  judgments  in  the  market  place  "  (Iliad, 
XVI.  387).  Such  judgments  were  given  by  councils  of  the  elders 
on  the  free  submission  of  the  parties  or  by  the  king  (Wilamowitz 
Mollendorf,  ap.  Mommsen,  p.  21),  but  we  hear  of  no  criminal  jus- 
tice (Freudenthal,  ib.,  p.  9).  The  homicide,  voluntary  or  in- 
voluntary, flies  the  country.  The  relatives  exercise  vengeance 
(Freudenthal,  ib.)  but  may  accept  composition,  and  the  slayer — 

iv  8i]fjna  ix€V€L  avTov  ttoXX   airoTLaa^. 

Historic  Greece  has  everywhere  a  fully  developed  system  of 
public  justice  with  rational  procedure,  with  no  criminal  process 
for  unintentional  offences  (Freudenthal,  ib.,  11).  But  the  Dra- 
conian murder -trial  is  simply  a  state -regulated  vengeance  (Wila- 
mowitz, p.  28).  In  Attic  law  the  "  pubhc  "  character  of  "  private  " 
offences  is,  perhaps,  first  fully  recognized  by  the  law  of  Solon 
enabling  any  citizen  to  prosecute  (Freudenthal,  p.  10,  Wilamowitz, 
p.  25).  But  residual  traces  of  self-redress  remain  in  the  limitation 
of  the  right  to  prosecute  for  homicide  to  the  nearest  relatives, 
and  the  right  of  forgiveness  (atSeo-is)  by  the  relatives  or  the 
dying  man.  Apparently  the  involuntary  homicide  could  be  kept 
in  exile  at  the  will  of  the  relatives  to  a  late  period  (Aristotle  on  the 
Constitution  of  Athens,  chap.  Ivii.  and  editor's  note).  Homicide 
on  the  highway  was  not  punishable  in  Attica  before  the  end  of 
the    fifth    century    (Wilamowitz,    Staat    und    GesellscJiaft,  p.  38).^ 

In  a  broad  review  of  the  whole  subject,  Sir  V.  Vinogradoff  now 
shows  that  in  many  of  the  most  important  crimes  against  individuals 
all  initiative  lay  with  the  sufferer  or  his  relatives  on  lines  derived  from 
the  original  tribal  constitution  {Historical  Jurisprudence,  vol.  II., 
Greece,  chap,  ix.,  esp.  p.  167). 


112  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

For  Germany,  the  list  of  offenders  publicly  executed  in  Tacitus 
(chap,  xv)  consists  of  prodilores,  transfugae  ignavi,  imhelles,  and 
cor  pore  infames.  This,  whatever  the  exact  meaning  of  the  last 
term,  accords  well  with  an  ordinary  list  of  "tribal"  offences. 
Tradition,  language,  and  comparison  of  the  codes  shows  that 
certain  offences  were  held  in  contempt  (Nithingswerk  in  North 
Germany)  and  punished  \nth  outlawry  involving  death  unless 
divine  pardon  was  obtained  (Schroder,  77).  These  include 
breaches  of  the  special  peace  of  the  temple,  the  meeting,  or  the 
house,  acts  dangerous  to  the  public,  black  magic,  etc.  Of  private 
offences  the  list  includes  only  unnatural  offences,  murder  and 
theft.  In  these  last  two  cases  the  point  was  their  secrecy. 
Murder  in  particular  is  a  concealed  and  denied  manslaying,  and 
the  cowardice  which  renders  it  a  Nithingswerk  is  the  attempt 
to  escape  the  feud.  Secrecy  is  also  the  contemptible  element 
in  theft,  open  robbery  is  not  Nithingswerk.  Thus,  in  principle, 
offences  against  individuals  are  not  pubhcly  punished,  but  only 
a  certain  cowardly  and  contemptible  way  of  performing  them. 
As  such  the  private  wrong  gave  rise  to  a  feud  or  to  composition. 
This  might  be  effected  purely  between  the  parties  or  in  court. 
In  the  latter  case  the  court  took  a  portion  of  the  fine  (Schroder, 
p.  80).  Roethe  (Mommsen,  p.  63)  thinks  the  legists  inclined  to 
overstate  the  interference  of  the  ^'•ommunity,  and  holds  that 
pure  self -redress  is  the  original  institution.  He  points  out  also 
that  the  Sagas  illustrate  vengeance  lor  unintentional  homicide. 
The  gradual  and  partial  distinction  is  indicated  by  Brunner 
{ib.,  p.  55).  Partly  based  on  military  conceptions  of  honour,  the 
Teutonic  code  has  more  than  once  had  to  make  concessions  to 
the  mihtary  class  tending  to  the  readmission  of  self -redress  (cf. 
Brunner,  p.  56;  Oppenheimer,  p.  129),  and  even  to  the  present 
day  the  same  influence  may  be  traced. 

Nothing  marks  the  re-barbarization  of  Europe  in  the  Early 
Middle  Ages  so  strongly  as  the  fact  that  the  system  of  pubhc  jus- 
tice built  up  in  the  Grseco-Roman  ci vihzation  gave  way  to  the  bar- 
baric system.  On  the  other  hand,  the  services  of  the  Mediaeval 
Church  in  deprecating  vengeance  and  upholding  social  peace 
ought  not  to  be  forgotten.  So  great  a  change  as  the  suppression 
of  vengeance  by  justice  is  not  accomphshed  but  by  slow  degrees, 
and  in  Europe  the  old  system  left  its  legacy  to  the  modern  world 
in  the  form  of  the  duel.  The  peculiar  notions  of  honour  en- 
gendered by  militarism  maintained  in  the  classes  whose  trade  was 
fighting  the  belief  that  the  stain  of  a  disgraceful  deed  could  be 
wiped  out  by  superior  skill  in  sword-play,  while  it  was  the 
bounden  duty  of  a  man  who  had  suffered  a  mortal  injury  to  give 


LAW  AND  JUSTICE  113 

his  traducer  or  assailant  the  opportunity  of  also  killing  him. 
Such  beliefs,  so  deeply  rooted  in  the  habits  of  a  military  caste, 
long  survived  the  prohibitions  of  the  Church  and  the  edicts  of 
kings  (see  Decret.  Grat.  C.  J.,  464,  referring  to  the  judicial  duel). 
In  the  Decret.  Greg.,  805,  a  clerk  is  to  be  deposed  for  duelHng,  and 
tournaments  are  forbidden  (p.  804).  The  latter,  however,  were 
legahzed  by  John  XXII.  (p.  1215).  The  Council  of  Trent 
threatened  not  only  duellists,  but  kings  or  feudal  lords  who 
allowed  duelling  in  their  territories  with  excommunication 
{G.J.,  pp.  98,  99).  In  England  the  duel  succumbed  to  the  cool 
common  sense  of  middle-class  juries.  On  the  Continent,  though 
undergoing  a  continual  process  of  attrition,  it  is  maintained  in  a 
dishonoured  old  age  among  such  other  perquisites  of  the  mihtary 
class  as  the  right  to  run  unarmed  citizens  through  the  body  for 
an  alleged  insulting  word.^ 

To  the  evidence  of  the  historic  civiUzations  must  be  added 
certain  instances  in  the  uncivilized  world  where  tradition  pre- 
serves the  memory  of  a,n  extinct  system  of  self- redress. ^  Lastly, 
the  case  of  justice  and  the  general  maintenance  of  order  is 
perhaps  the  only  department  of  etliics  in  which  we  may  adduce  a 
theoretical  argument  in  confirmation  of  the  historical  evidence. 
For  the  community  with  the  better  order  has  palpably  a  better 
chance  of  survival  than  the  more  anarchical,  and,  culture  for 
culture,  it  is  very  unlikely  that  the  Hunters  or  Agriculturists 
of  earlier  epochs  would  be  better  governed  or  more  peaceably 
ordered  than  those  of  our  own  time.  The  probabilities  are  all 
the  other  way,  and  if  any  tribes  have  survived  in  spite  of  very 
slight  acquaintance  with  the  arts,  it  is  more  likely  to  be  those 
who  knew  how  to  cultivate  internal  peace  and  good  fellowship 
than  their  opposites.  We  may  infer  that  if  we  could  see  the 
ascending  scale  of  society  set  out  in  time  as  we  see  it  through 
anthropology  at  what  is  (relatively  to  the  duration  of  human 
society)  a  single  moment,  the  correlation  of  the  methods  of 

1  It  might  be  said  that  a  society  where  duelling  obtains  ought  to  be 
classed  in  the  third  of  our  foiir  grades  (above,  p.  106),  and  that  modem 
continental  countries  would  therefore  fall  below  many  barbaric  peoples. 
But  this  would  be  to  overlook  the  exceptional  character  of  the  duel  as 
(1)  the  privilege  of  the  upper  class,  (2)  contrary  to  the  letter  of  the  law, 

(3)  only  justified  in  special  cases  in  accordance  with  the  code  of  honour, 

(4)  neither  applicable  to  the  punishment  of  crimes  nor  the  maintenance  of 
civil  rights.  If,  in  fact,  we  found  any  barbaric  society  with  vengeance 
so  circimascribed,  we  should  include  it  in  our  highest  class,  as,  in  fact,  we 
have  always  done  where  only  vengeance  on  the  adulterer  or  the  faithless 
wife  is  allowed. 

^  e.  g.  the  Araucanians  (Latcham,  J.  A.  I.,  xxxix.  355),  the  Sonthals 
(Man,  Sonthalia,  p.  91),  and  the  Kols  (ib.).   These  are  important  as  appear- 
ing among  the  Indian  peoples  where  self-redress  has  generally  dLsappeared- 
? 


114  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

justice  with  the  general  advance  of  civiHzation  would  be  not  less 
close  but  closer  than  that  which  we  have  seen. 

Our  argument  does  not  go  to  prove  the  development  of  im- 
partial justice  from  vengeance.  On  the  contrary,  in  some  very 
simple  societies  the  evidence  for  venge?aice  is  shght.  They  are 
peaceable  people,  Avho  seldom  quarrel  among  themselves,  and 
that  is  probably  why  they  have  been  able  to  maintain  themselves 
with  so  slender  a  material  equipment  through  the  ages.  It  goes 
to  show  rather  that  the  root  of  pubhc  intervention  is  the  sense 
of  the  common  safet3^  Hence  the  early  punishments  of  sacral 
offences.  Hence  the  sohdarity  of  clan  or  group  against  others. 
Hence  the  mitigation  of  vengeance  and  the  assumption  of 
communal  protection  in  its  place.  Hence  the  limitation  of 
impartial  justice  to  whatever  group  really  feels  itself  to  be  one. 
Hence,  finally,  the  protection  of  all  members  of  society  when  all 
are  reaUy  felt  to  be  morally  members  of  one  body.  Sympathy 
is  an  impulse  leading  to  this  consummation,  but  occasional 
sjTnpathetic  action  is  precisely  not  justice  because  it  is  based  on 
a  personal  feeling.  Nor  is  the  sense  of  sohdarity  justice,  because 
it  ignores  the  individual.  It  is  the  fusion  of  the  two,  of  the 
feeUng  for  another  and  the  enlarging  conception  of  the  welfare 
of  the  whole,  which  constitutes  the  basic  material  of  true  justice, 
wherein,  as  in  all  ethics,  a  rational  impulse  defines  and 
harmonizes  the  prompting  of  innumerable  elements  of  feeling 
and  emotion. 

9.  Procedure. — The  mere  establishment  of  impartial  justice 
is  by  no  means  the  same  thing  as  the  formation  of  a  Court 
of  Law  in  the  modern  sense.  The  primary  function  of  a 
primitive  tribunal  is  not  so  much  to  discover  the  merits  of  the 
case-  and  make  an  equitable  award,  as  to  keep  the  peace  and 
prevent  the  extension  of  wild  and  irregular  blood  feuds.  \'\Tiat 
the  court  has  to  deal  \dth  is  the  fact  that  a  feud  exists.  A 
comes  before  it  %vith  a  complaint  against  B  of  having  killed 
his  kinsman,  or  stolen  his  cattle,  or  earned  oft'  his  daughter. 
Here  is  a  feud  which,  in  the  absence  of  a  court,  A  will 
prosecute  with  his  own  right-arm  and  that  of  his  kinsmen  if 
he  can  get  them  to  help  him.  B,  again,  will  resist  with  the 
help  of  his  kinsmen,  and  so  there  will  be  a  vendetta.  The 
court,  whose  primary  object  is  to  secure  a  settlement,  does 
not  go  into  nice  questions  as  to  the  precise  merits  and  de- 
merits of  A  and  B,  but  it  can  prescribe  certain  tests  whereby 
the  appellant  or  the  defendant  may  establish  his  case.  It  sets 
the  litigant  "  a  task  tha,t  he   must  attempt.     If  he  performs 


LAW  AND  JUSTICE  115 

it,  he  has  won  his  cause."  ^  The  performance  of  this  task  is 
not,  to  our  minds,  proof  of  the  justice  of  his  cause.  It  is  rather 
the  comphance  with  a  legal  and  orderl}-  method  of  establishing 
a  case,  but  at  the  stage  we  are  considering  it  was  probably 
regarded  as  satisfying  justice,  at  least  as  far  as  justice  claimed 
to  be  satisfied. 

What  task,  then,  would  the  court  award  ?  It  might  be  that 
the  litigant  should  maintain  his  cause  with  his  body.  The 
parties  would  then  have  to  fight  it  out  in  person  or  by  their 
champions.  Here  we  have  the  regulated  fight  in  the  form  of 
a  judicial  duel  carrying  a  sentence  as  its  result.  Again,  the 
court  might  put  one  or  both  parties  to  the  oath.  But  this  is 
not  the  oath  of  the  modem  law  court — that  is  to  say,  it  is  not  a 
solemn  asseveration  of  the  truth  of  certain  evidence  of  fact,  but 
an  assertion  of  the  general  justice  of  the  claim  alleged,  or  of  its 
injustice,  as  the  case  may  be.  And  as  the  feud  Mill  not  be  waged 
by  the  individual  claimant  alone,  but  with  the  aid  of  ail  his 
kindred,  so  the  court  will  expect  the  kindred  to  come  and  take 
the  oath  along  with.  him.  Hence  the  institution  of  oath-helpers, 
the  compurgators,  who  are  in  point  of  fact  the  fellow-clansmen, 
all  bound  to  the  duty  at  this  stage  of  swearing  their  friend  out 
of  the  difficulty,  just  as  before  they  were  bound  to  help  Mm  out 
of  it  by  arms.  The  compurgators  are  simplj^  the  clansmen 
fighting  with  spiritual  weapons  instead  of  carnal  ones.  Success 
in  the  cause  will  depend  not  on  the  opinion  formed  by  the  court 
as  to  the  veracity  of  one  side  or  the  perjury  of  the  other,  but  on 
the  abihty  of  the  parties  to  get  the  fuU  number  of  compurgators 
required,  on  formal  correctness  in  taking  the  oath,  and  if  both 
parties  fulfil  all  conditions  and  no  further  means  are  available 
for  deciding  between  them,  on  certain  rules  as  to  the  burden  of 
proof  .^ 

The  provision  of  such  further  means  of  deciding  between  the 
parties  is  logically  the  next  step.  So  far,  the  judicial  process 
has  appeared  merely  as  a  substitute  for  the  blood  feud,  but 
both  the  oath  and  the  judicial  combat  point  the  way  to  a  higher 

1  Pollock  and  Maitland,  ii.  602. 

*  Which  oath  prevailed  in  case  of  a  conflict  would  be  decided  according 
to  the  custom  ruling  the  case.  One  party  would  be  "  nearer  to  the  oath  " 
than  the  other.  For  instance,  where  the  criminal  is  caught  in  the  act,  the 
oath  of  the  prosecutor  with  his  oath-helpers  is  conclusive  proof,  and  the 
offender  has  no  opportunity  of  self-defence  (Scliroder,  p.  363 ;  cf.  Pollock 
and  Maitland,  ii.  679).  In  the  FrankLsh  period  the  complainant  might  also, 
if  the  circumstances  allowed,  demand  the  ordeal;  in  other  cases,  with  a 
few  exceptions,  the  biu"den  of  proof  was  on  the  opposite  side  (Schroder, 
op.  cit.,  pp.  363-366).  Where  the  oath  is  not  decisive,  the  parties  go  to  the 
duel  or  to  the  ordeal. 


116  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

ideal.  The  court  itself  is  not  in  a  position  to  try  the  merits  of  the 
case  unless  it  be  some  very  simple  matter  of  the  criminal  caught 
red-handed,  but  it  may  refer  the  decision  to  the  Unseen  Powers, 
to  the  gods,  or  to  the  magical  qualities  inherent  in  certain  things. 
Thus  the  judicial  duel,  instead  of  being  a  mere  carnal  fight 
regularized  and  limited  by  certain  rules,  may  be  conceived  rather 
as  an  appeal  to  the  judgment  of  God,  and  the  victory  as  His 
sentence  which  the  court  hesitates  to  pronounce  on  the  basis 
of  its  merely  human  wisdom.  Similarly  the  oath — though  less 
than  evidence  as  we  conceive  evidence — ^is  also  more,  for  it  is 
an  appeal  to  powers  in  which  primitive  man  imphcitly  believes, 
to  take  vengeance  on  him  who  swears,  if  his  cause  be  not  just. 
Hence  the  form  of  the  oath  is  everything,  for  the  Unknown 
Powers  are  great  sticklers  for  form.  The  oath -taker  calls  down 
their  punishment  on  himself  and  his  family  by  a  set  formula 
which  they  will  rigidly  obey.  If  in  the  formula  he  can  leave 
himself  any  loophole  of  escape,  the  oath  is  void  :  it  is  no  true 
summoning  of  the  vengeful  powers,  and  the  court  will  disregard 
it,  but  if  it  is  complete  and  sound  in  point  of  form,  then  there 
is  no  escape.  One  of  two  things  must  happen  :  either  the  oath 
was  true  or  the  curse  will  fall,  and  thus  perjury  brings  its  own 
punishment.^ 

Hence  it  is  that  for  any  given  charge  the  law  may  call  upon 
a  man  to  purge  himself  by  oath,  or  perhaps  to  purge  himself 
along  with  a  specified  number  of  oath-helpers  who  will  suffer 
■v^dth  him  if  the  oath  is  false,  and  the  oath-helpers  required  may 
be  increased  according  to  the  seriousness  of  the  crime.  If 
the  oath  fails  the  prescribed  punishment  follows.  If  it  is  duly 
taken,  then  either  the  accused  was  innocent,  or  he  had  infhcted 
the  punishment  entailed  by  the  broken  oath  on  himself  and  his 
oath -helpers. 

But  the  consequences  of  a  false  oath  were  not  immediately 
apparent.  If  the  court  wished  to  have  the  judgment  of  the 
Unseen  Powers  before  it  some  more  summary  process  was  neces- 
sary. This  was  found  in  the  Ordeal,  a  test  to  which  both  parties 
could  be  submitted  if  necessary,  and  of  which  the  results  were 
immediate  and  manifest.  Probably  no  institution  is  more 
frequent  at  a  certain  stage  of  civilization  than  that  of  testing 
the  truth  or  falsity  of   a  case   by  a  certain  magico -religious 

1  Thus  the  subsequent  misfortune  is  taken  as  proof  of  perjury,  and 
sometimes  with  a  certain  inconsistency  the  secular  arm  is  then  called  in  to 
increase  the  penalty.  Thus,  among  the  Kondhs  of  Orissa,  and  also  among 
the  Congo  people,  if  the  curse  falls,  the  oath-taker  is  banished  alocg  with 
his  family  (Post,  ii.  493). 


LAW  AND  JUSTICE  117 

process — the  eating  of  a  piece  of  bread,  the  handhng  of  burning 
iron  or  boihng  oil,  jumping  into  water,  walking  through  fire, 
exposure  to  wild  beasts,  and  so  forth.  The  details  vary,  though 
even  in  detail  resemblances  crop  up  at  the  most  remote  periods 
and  in  the  most  remote  places,  but  the  general  principle  is  still 
more  clearly  constant  through  the  ages  and  the  chmes.^  Truth 
cannot  at  this  stage  be  tested  by  human  evidence.  At  most  the 
criminal  caught  red-handed  may  be  summarily  dispatched  upon 
the  evidence  of  eye-witnesses  given  there  and  then,  but  the 
complicated  civil  or  criminal  processes  of  the  civiUzed  world 
imply  an  intellectual  as  well  as  a  moral  development  which 
makes  them  impossible  at  an  early  stage.  It  is  the  gods  who 
judge  ;  the  man  who  can  handle  hot  iron  is  proved  by  heaven  to 
be  innocent ;  the  woman  whom  the  holy  river  rejects  is  a  witch ; 
he  whom  the  bread  chokes  is  a  perjurer.  Nor  are  these  tests 
wholly  devoid  of  rational  basis ;  it  is  not  so  difficult  to  under- 
stand that  the  guilty  man  would  be  more  liable  to  choke  than 
the  innocent,  not  because  bread  is  holy,  but  because  his  nerves 
are  shaken.  It  is  quite  intelligible  that  in  a  credulous  age  the 
false  oath  would  bring  its  curse  in  the  form  of  a  will  paralyzed 
by  terror,  just  as  we  know  that  amongst  many  savages  witch- 
craft really  kiUs  through  tke  sufferer's  intense  fear  of  it.  Lastly, 
if  the  criminal  may  be  ready  to  take  his  chances  of  the  curse 
in  preference  to  the  certainties  of  the  scaffold,  he  may  find 
it  difficult  to  get  compurgators  to  stand  by  him,  and  in  the 
face  of  their  plain  knowledge  involve  themselves  in  the  same 
risk. 

^  Among  the  Australians  we  have  the  ordeal  in  the  form  of  the  expiatory 
encounter.  This  seems  to  be  trial  and  punishment  in  one,  or,  perhaps,  as 
we  have  seen,  it  is  rather  atonement  than  either.  Magical  processes  were, 
indeed,  employed  to  discover  the  direction  in  which  the  man  whose  witch- 
craft caused  a  death  might  be  found.  But  this,  again,  belongs  to  detection 
rather  than  trial.  If  we,  then,  omit  the  Australian  cases  we  do  not  find 
the  ordeal  among  the  Lower  Hunters,  and  it  is  very  rare  till  we  reach  the 
second  stage  of  Agriculttu-e.  Thereafter  it  becomes  very  common  {Simpler 
Peoples,  p.  80). 

Two  or  three  Australian  authorities  speak  of  some  sort  of  trial,  e.  g. 
Beveridge  of  the  Riverina  people ;  Mrs.  Parker  of  the  Euahlayi  (but  with 
reference,  I  think,  only  to  the  spear-throwing) ;  Dawson  of  West  Victoria, 
and  Taplin  of  the  Narrinyeri.  In  these  and  other  cases  we  are  certainly 
to  suppose  excited  arguments  between  accusing  and  acciised  local  groups, 
but  we  have  no  clear  evidence  of  anything  more.  It  is  only  in  the  North 
and  North-West  Central  Queensland  districts  that  Roth  speaks  clearly  of 
a  sort  of  inquiry  by  the  old  men  into  the  merits  of  the  case.  With  these 
exceptions  we  fovmd  no  indications  of  a  trial  among  the  Lower  Hunters, 
only  two  among  the  Higher,  and  three  in  the  lower  divisions  of  Pastoral 
and  Agricultural  peoples.  In  the  Higher  Pastoral  and  Agricultural  stages 
they  become  common  {loc.  cii.). 


118  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

10.  Thus  by  degrees  there  develops  the  conception  that  it  is 
the  duty  of  the  court  to  try  the  case,  to  obtain  proof  of  facts,  to 
give  its  own  verdict  based  on  its  owti  judgment,  and  execute  its 
own  sentence  by  its  own  officers,  and  which  may  take  the  initia- 
tive through  its  own  officers.  The  steps  by  which  this  change  is 
achieved  belong  in  detail  rather  to  the  history  of  jurisprudence 
than  to  that  of  comparative  ethics.  Only  certain  broad  features 
of  the  new  phase  concern  us.  Its  primary  condition  is  the  fuller 
development  and  clearer  expression  of  sentiments  that  are 
present  from  the  first,  but  it  is  naturally  stimulated  and  furthered 
by  the  formation  of  an  effective  organ  of  government.  The 
elders  or  the  petty  chief  of  the  village  community  hesitate  to 
carry  out  a  death  sentence  or  inflict  corporal  punishment  for  fear 
of  involving  themselves  in  the  blood  feud.^  Wliere  there  is  an 
executive  power  with  sufficient  force  behind  it  to  raise  its  officer 
above  the  fear  of  revenge,  pubhc  justice  can  have  full  play. 
Hence  the  decay  of  blood  revenge  and  the  rise  of  pubhc  justice 
are  frequently  associated  with  the  growth  of  kingly  power. 
For  example,  in  Europe  in  the  early  Middle  Ages  we  have  seen 
that  certain  offences  were  treated  as  breaches  of  the  king's  peace. 
This  peace  was  a  protection  afforded  in  the  first  instance  to 
certain  places  and  times,  but  it  was  gradually  extended,  largely 
it  would  seem,  through  the  king's  protection  of  the  roads — 
"the  king's  highway  " — to  ail  places  and  all  times.  Thus  the 
act  which  had  been  a  breach  of  the  king's  peace,  punished  by  the 
Avithdrawal  of  his  protection  only  when  committed  at  certain 
times  and  places,  now  became  an  ofience  against  him  at  all  times 
and  places.  Its  punishment  was  still  outlawry.  But  as  out- 
lawry deprived  a  man  of  all  rights,  it  enabled  the  king  to  inflict 
what  penalty  he  chose.  The  criminal,  in  fact,  was  at  his  mercy  : 
any  penalty  short  of  death  with  forfeiture  of  all  goods  would 
be  an  indulgence,  and  hence  the  Royal  Courts  could  fix  a  scale 
of  punishments  at  their  pleasure.^ 

With  the  growth  of  public  justice  the  function  of  the  courts 
is  changed  :  they  have  no  longer  to  supervise  the  feuds  of  hostile 
famihes,  but  to  maintain  public  order,  to  detect  and  punish 
crime,  and  to  uphold  innocent   people  in  their  rights.     This 

^  So  Prof.  Robertson  Smith  remarks  on  the  appearance  of  corporal 
punishment  in  Deuteronomy,  that  it  is  evidence  of  the  comparatively 
settled  state  of  the  country  and  the  growth  of  the  social  order  since  the 
time  of  the  Book  of  the  Covenant.  No  Arab  Sheikh  would  inflict  corporal 
punishment  on  a  tribesman  for  fear  of  revenge  (Deut.  xxv.  3  :  Robertson 
Smith,  Old  Testament  in  the  Jewish  Church,  p.  368). 

2  Jenks,  Law  and  Politics,  pp.  1C9-117;  Pollock  and  Maitland,  ii. 
453-463,  etc. 


LAW  AND  JUSTICE]  119 

involves  numerous  changes.  In  the  fust  place,  self-help,  the 
obtaining  of  satisfaction  by  the  strong  hand,  is  no  longer  neces- 
sary. The  injured  man  can  get  a  remedy  from  the  court,  and 
vengeance  is  forbidden.  The  victory  is  not  immediate,  and  often 
the  state  has  to  come  to  some  compromise  with  the  old  system. 
For  example,  vengeance  may  be  allowed  in  flagrante  delicto,  or 
within  a  certain  period  after  the  offence.  Wliere  state  justice 
is  very  weak,  an  asylum  may  be  granted  within  which  revenge 
must  not  be  executed ;  in  other  cases  where  the  process  is  further 
advanced  and  justice  is  getting  the  upper  hand,  revenge  is  allowed 
only  with  the  consent  of  a  court  .^  Or,  lastly,  excluded  from  all 
ordinary  cases,  revenge  is  tolerated  as  a  concession  to  human 
weakness  in  cases  where  strong  passions  are  excited — for  example, 
in  breaches  of  the  marriage  law  to  this  day  in  many  civilized 
countries. 2  The  transition  was  the  harder  because  it  involved  a 
fundamental  etliical  change.  From  its  beginning,  as  we  have 
seen,  social  order  rested  on  the  readiness  of  every  man  to  stand 
by  his  kinsmen  in  their  quarrels.  Hence  the  duty  of  avenging 
the  injured  kinsman,  and  therefore  of  loving  one's  neighbour 
in  this  sense  and  hating  one's  enemy,  was  the  most  sacred  of 
primitive  principles,  bound  up  mth  everything  that  made  a 
common  life  possible.  Pubhc  justice  bade  men  lay  aside  this 
principle,  and  its  triumph  constitutes  one  of  the  greatest  of 
social  revolutions. 

But  if  the  kindred  be  no  longer  allowed  to  avenge  themselves, 
the  corresponding  right  of  the  offender  to  make  peace  with  the 
kin  is  also  withdrawn.^  A  crime  is  now  a  public  affair,  and  in 
varying  degrees  according  to  time  and  country  the  pubhc  au- 
thority takes  upon  itself  the  function  of  maintaining  order  and 
of  discovering  as  well  as  punishing  offenders.^    The  trial  ceases 

^  This,  in  strictness,  is  Mohammedan  law  (Kohler,  quoted  in  Post,  i. 
260). 

2  For  instances  see  Post,  i.  260,  261.  Post  quotes  the  Japanese  Law 
Book  of  1873,  which  treats  premeditated  blood  revenge  as  murder,  but 
excuses  the  son  who  strikes  down  the  murderer  of  his  father  on  the  spot. 

»  See  Pollock  and  Maitland,  ii.  485. 

*  The  rise  of  impartial  public  justice  in  Europe  connects  itself  with 
"  Trial  by  Inquest."  Early  in  the  Middle  Ages  the  bishops  made  diocesan 
tours  and  held  inquests  into  public  morals,  and  in  the  ninth  century  they 
employed  a  "  jurie  d'accusation,"  which  indicated  delinquents.  These 
were  at  first  allowed  to  purge  themselves  by  oath,  but  this  right  was  with- 
drawn under  Innocent  III.,  and  the  court  was  allowed  to  proceed  per 
inquisitionem,  holding  an  inquiry,  and  requiring  not  purgation  but  defence. 
The  accuser  at  this  stage  is  a  public  authority,  not  merely  a  private  enemy 
prosecuting  a  feud.  A  corresponding  development  occurs  in  England  when 
the  Grand  Jury,  as  representing  the  common  knowledge  of  a  neighboui*- 
hood,  presents  a  list  of  criminals  for  trial.  The  accusation  could  not  any 
longer  be  submitted  to  trial  by  battle,  as  the  accused  could  not  fight  the 


120  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

to  be  a  milder  form  of  the  blood  feud.  The  complainant  no 
longer  exposes  himself  to  equal  punishment  by  way  of  retahation 
in  case  he  loses  his  suit.  What  was  previously  accusation  now 
becomes  denunciation.^  Again,  though  the  injured  paity  may 
set  the  whole  process  in  motion,  the  result  will  differ  vitally 
according  to  the  nature  of  the  act  of  which  he  complains.  Jus- 
tice, having  pubhc  interests  in  view,  will  count  not  only  the 
magnitude  of  the  injury  suffered,  but  the  degree  of  culpabihty 
in  the  man  who  inflicted  it.  Vengeance,  the  object  of  the 
older  process,  breaks  up  into  the  two  distinct  ideas  of  punish- 
ment inflicted  by  the  judge,  and  restitution  assigned  to  the 
complainant.    Civil  and  criminal  justice  are  distinct .^ 

11.  But  once  become  serious  in  its  determination  to  investigate 
the  case  before  giving  sentence,  public  justice  could  not  long  be 
satisfied  with  the  older  supernatural  macliinery.  In  mediaeval 
Europe  it  was  early  a  matter  of  remark  that  the  battle  was  not 
always  to  the  just.  "  We  are,"  says  the  Lombard  king,  Luit- 
prand,  "  uncertain  about  the  judgment  of  God,  and  have  heard 
that  many  through  the  battle  lose  their  cause  without  justice, 
but  the  Law  itself,  on  account  of  the  custom  of  our  race  of 
Lombards,  we  cannot  forbid."  The  question  was  matter  of 
controversy  during  the  ninth  century,  Agobard,  Archbishop  of 
Lyons  {d.  840),  arguing  against  trial  by  combat  and  the  ordeal, 
while  EQncmar,  Archbishop  of  Rheims  {circ.  806-882),  supported 
them.^ 

It  was  therefore  a  great  SDep  in  advance  when  ordeals,  wliich 
had  been  adopted  by  the  Church  after  the  barbarian  invasions, 
were  condemned  by  the  Lateran  Council  of  1215.     As  a  conse- 

whole  Grand  Jury  (Stephen,  i.  254),  and  as  ordeals  were  falling  into  dis- 
credit the  only  resource  was  the  Inquest.  This  was  a  method,  already 
in  use  in  Norman  law,  of  establishing  facts  by  the  sworn  judgment  of  a 
number  of  men  (petty  jury)  representing  "  the  verdict  of  the  coimtry." 
Thus  our  system,  though  it  has  retained  much  of  the  accusatory  character, 
has  been  deeply  influenced  by  the  Inquisition,  or,  as  we  call  it, 
"  Inquest." 

1  Esmein,  p.  84.  The  "  accusatory  "  method  fell  into  disuse  in  France 
in  the  fourteenth  century.  But  the  penalty  of  retaliation  was  retained, 
though  softened  in  application  {ib.,  108).  Denunciation  was  readily 
conceded  in  the  case  of  commoners,  while  nobles  still  retained  the  right 
of  combat  (ib.,  85). 

*  The  distinction  is  not  affected  by  the  fact  that  both  results  may  be 
sought  by  a  single  process ;  e.  g.  in  French  law  a  criminal  may  be  con- 
demned to  pay  damages  to  the  injured  party  by  the  same  sentence  which 
consigns  him  to  prison. 

^  Taylor,  The  Mediaeval  Mind,  i.  231,  232.  Charlemagne  ordered  all 
men  to  believe  the  judgment  of  God  without  any  doubt  (SchrCder,  3C7). 


LAW  AND  JUSTICE  121 

quence  they  disappear  in  England  after  the  reign  of  John,i  while 
the  oath  of  compurgators  is  gradually  converted  into  evidence  to 
character.  The  ordeal  by  battle  ^  remained,  but  an  alternative 
was  offered  in  the  form  of  a  judicial  inquiry  with  witnesses  and 
evidence.  The  accused  might,  in  Enghsh  phrase,  "  put  himself 
upon  his  country,"  i.  e.  let  his  case  go  before  a  jury,  men  of  his 
neighbourhood  knowing  the  facts  and  prepared  to  testify  to 
them,  or,  in  French  phrase,  the  accused  could  be  offered  the 
"enqueste  du  pais."  And  this  alternative,  if  at  first  optional, 
soon  manifested  its  vast  superiority,  and  the  settlement  of  all 
disputes  and  all  accusations  by  an  impartial  tribunal,  which  has 
heard  what  both  sides  have  to  say,  becomes  an  integral  part  of 
the  civihzed  order.^  But  even-handed  justice  is  not  reached  at 
one  stride.  The  public  authority,  having  once  taken  up  the 
function  of  repressing  crime,  are  more  bent  on  efficiency  in  the 
maintenance  of  order  than  on  nice  considerations  of  justice  to 
individuals.  Their  tendency  is  to  treat  the  accused  man  as 
guilty,  and  means  of  proving  his  innocence  are  somewhat  grudg- 
ingly meted  out  to  him  as  privileges  rather  than  as  rights,  while 
deficiencies  of  evidence  are  boldly  supplemented  by  the  use  of 
torture.  In  EngUsh  law,  indeed,  torture  (except  in  the  case 
of  the  'peine  forte  et  dure)  never  seems  to  have  been  fully  recog- 
nized :  if  used  by  the  absolute  monarchy  it  was  as  a  pohtical 
instrument  rather  than  as  part  of  the  ordinary  machinery  of  law. 
On  the  Continent,  on  the  other  hand,  owing  partly,  perhaps,  to 
a  stricter  theory  of  the  amount  of  evidence  necessary  for  proof, 
partly  to  the  fact  that  the  authorities  were  more  determined  to 

^  Pollock  and  Maitland,  ii.  599.  In  France,  compurgation  and  unilateral 
ordeals  almost  completely  disappeared  in  the  thirteenth  century.  The 
oath  with  oath-helpers  was  still  not  vmcommon  in  England,  but  the  view 
"  that  you  cannot  wage  your  law  about  facts  are  manifest "  was  beginning 
to  prevail  (Pollock  and  Maitland,  ii.  634). 

^  It  was  forbidden  in  France  by  St.  Louis  in  1260.  "  Nous  defendons  a 
tous  batailles  par  nostre  domengne  et  au  lieu  de  batailles,  nous  mettons 
preuves  de  tesmoins,"  but  this  ordinance  could  not  be  imposed  in  a  day 
upon  the  Signorial  courts.  Before  the  accession  of  Edward  I.,  judicial 
combats  were  limited  to  felony,  but  one  of  the  parties  might  prefer  a  jury. 
Champions  for  hire  still  existed  (Pollock  and  Maitland,  ii.  632,  633). 

^  For  a  long  while  the  alternative  was  treated  as  optional  in  English 
law.  The  oath  and  the  ordeal  had  been  the  old  legal  methods  of  proof,  and 
"  no  one,"  say  the  Leges  Henrici,  with  the  air  of  resisting  a  monstrous  and 
novel  injustice,  "  is  to  be  convicted  of  a  capital  crime  by  testimony " 
(Pollock  and  Maitland,  ii.  650).  But,  urged  by  manifest  necessity,  the 
lawyers  found  indirect  methods  of  compulsion ;  a  man  cannot  be  hanged 
for  mvu'der  merely  becaiose  he  is  proved  by  witnesses  to  have  committed 
it,  unless  he  first  agrees  to  stand  or  fall  by  what  they  say,  and  forego  his 
right  to  the  ordeal.  But  though  he  cannot  be  compelled,  he  can  be  rigidly 
imprisoned  until  he  gives  his  consent,  and,  finally,  he  can  be  pressed  to 
death  by  the  "  peine  forte  et  dure." 


122  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

suppress  crime  than  to  protect  individuals  from  the  possibiHty 
of  undeserved  suffering,  torture  became  a  recognized  method  of 
supplementing  defective  evidence.  The  judicial  conscience  was 
easier  if  it  extorted  a  confession  from  a  man  before  condemning 
him,  than  if  it  acted  solely  on  evidence  undistorted  by  physical 
suffering.^  Even  where  torture  was  not  allowed  the  accused  was 
not  always  put  on  a  level  witli  the  prosecution  as  to  the  right  of 
giving  evidence,  calling  witnesses  and  employing  counsel.  It  is 
not  until  all  these  conditions  are  fulfilled  that  a  Court  of  Justice 
can  be  said  to  come  up  to  the  ideal  of  a  place  in  which  the  full 
merits  of  the  case  are  investigated  before  a  verdict  is  given. 
Even  now  it  must  be  remarked  than  an  English  trial  preserves 
much  of  the  form  of  the  old  judicial  combat.  Its  method  of 
obtaining  a  verdict  is  still  that  of  pitting  attack  and  defence 
against  one  another.  It  may  be  that  this  is  the  best  method  of 
obtaining  truth  where  human  interests  and  passions  are  at  stake, 
and  that  the  advocate  must  always  retain  a  place  beside  the 
judge  :  but  what  seems  clear  is  that  the  power  of  the  purse  in 
retaining  the  best  legal  skill  is  a  make-weight,  especially  in  civil 
cases,  of  no  shght  practical  importance ;  and  it  is  possible  that 
our  descendants  will  look  back  upon  a  system  which  allowed 
wealth  to  count  for  so  much  before  what  should  be  an  absolutely 
impartial  tribunal,  as  not  differing  so  much  as  we  should  like  to 
think  from  the  old  ordeal  by  battle.  The  fight  with  the  purse 
is  not  the  ideal  substitute  for  the  fight  with  the  person. 

12.  We  have  seen  that  public  justice  often  led  to  severity  in 
the  process  of  obtaining  truth ;  still  more  was  this  the  case  in 
the  punishment  of  crime.  Accompanying  the  growth  of  order 
in  a  barbarian  society  there  is,  as  has  been  remarked  above,  a 

^  Torture  was  originally  applied  only  to  slaves  in  Roman  law,  but  was 
extended  to  freemen  in  cases  of  treason  and  afterwards  in  other  eases  as 
well.  It  was  originally  unknown  to  the  barbarians,  but  under  Roman 
influence  it  was  introduced  into  the  Salic,  Burgundian  and  other  laws  in 
application  to  slaves  (Esmein,  p.  93;  Schroder,  p.  3G9).  Fostered  by  the 
need  for  evidence  in  the  procedure  by  inquest,  and  hy  the  determination 
to  repress  crimes,  it  gradually  became,  especially  in  Germany  and  Italy 
(Esmein,  p.  284),  a  flagrant  abuse.  All  the  guarantees  which  the  accused 
had  were  taken  froin  him  by  degrees.  The  procedure  became  secret,  he 
was  not  allowed  to  employ  covmsel  or  to  cite  witnesses.  In  this  direction 
the  inquisitorial  process  was  pushed  further  in  France  than  elsewhere ; 
England  was  apparently  saved  from  it  by  the  gradual  change  which 
converted  the  jviry  from  witnesses  into  judges  of  the  case.  It  is  noteworthy 
that  the  severity  of  the  French  procedure  was  accepted  by  the  public  and 
was  even  popular  {op.  cit.,  p.  158).  The  public  feeling  of  the  period 
went  with  the  authorities* in  concerning  itself  more  for  the  suppression  of 
crime  than  for  supporting  the  rights  of  accused  individuals. 


LAW   AND  JUSTICE  12S 

tendency  to  substitute  a  system  of  composition  for  blood  venge- 
ance by  a  money  payment.  This  system  made  for  social  peace, 
but,  particularly  with  the  increase  of  wealth  and  difference  of 
rank,  it  lent  itself  to  frightful  abuses.  Crimes,  punished  perhaps 
too  fiercely  in  early  societj^  became  for  the  well-to-do  too  lightly 
and  easily  atonable,  and  it  is  not  surprising  that  at  the  next 
stage  of  social  development,  in  which  the  central  power  has 
consoHdated  itself  and  the  executive  has  become  strong  enough 
to  dismiss  any  fear  of  the  blood  feud,  a  period  of  severer 
punishment  should  set  in.  Crime  now  becomes  a  revolt  against 
authority,  a  challenge  to  the  powers  that  be,  civil  and  perhaps 
ecclesiastical  as  well,  to  put  forth  all  their  strength  to  subdue 
it.  Moreover,  the  central  authority  at  its  best  acts  in  the 
interests  of  pubHc  order,  and  on  the  whole  represents  the  principle 
of  impartial  judgment  as  between  disputants,  and  of  progress 
towards  internal  peace  and  the  reign  of  law.  On  the  other  hand, 
order  is  still  difficult  to  maintain  and  powerful  famihes  are 
recalcitrant.  From  such  causes  as  these  acting  in  combination 
the  criminal  law  now  reaches  the  acme  of  its  rigour.  Death 
penalties  or  savage  mutilations  are  infhcted  for  offences  of  the 
second  and  third  order,  torture  is  freely  used  to  extort  con- 
fession, and  the  brutahty  of  the  mob  is  called  in  to  supplement 
that  of  the  executioner. 

As  to  the  severity,  or  rather  barbarity,  of  the  criminal  law  in 
Europe  down  to  the  nineteenth  century  little  need  be  said,  as 
the  broad  facts  are  well  known.  In  England  death  was  theoreti- 
cally the  penalty  for  all  felonies  except  petty  larceny  and  may- 
hem, from  the  Middle  Ages  down  to  1826.  This  rule  was  subject 
to  the  exceptions  based  on  "  benefit  of  clergy,"  which  originally 
meant  the  right  of  a  clerk  to  be  tried  in  the  ecclesiastical  courts  ; 
then,  being  extended  to  all  who  could  read,  became  something  of 
the  nature  of  a  class  privilege,  and  finally,  in  1705,  the  necessity 
for  reading  1  being  abolished,  was  converted  into  a  means  of 
grace.  The  punishment  for  a  "clerg3^able  "  offence  was  to  be 
branded  in  the  hand  and  imprisoned  for  not  more  than  one  year, 
except  in  the  case  of  larceny,  which  by  the  law  of  1717  was 
punishable  by  transportation  for  seven  years .^  From  the  fifteenth 
century  onwards  a  succession  of  statutes  excluded  more  and  more 
offences  from  benefit  of  clergy,  and  thus  at  the  end  of  the  seven- 
teenth century  such  offences  as  arson,  burglary,  horse -stealing, 
stealing  from  the  person  above  the  value  of  a  shilling,  rape  and 
abduction  with  intent  to  marry,  were  all  capital  "  whether  the 

1  Peers,  and  clerks  in  holy  orders,  however,  retained  special  privileges. 
*  Stephen,  i.  463,  etc. 


124  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

offender  could  read  or  not."  ^  In  the  eighteenth  century  the 
list  was  lengthened,  but  transportation  was  often  substituted 
for  the  death  penalty.  Women  were  still  burnt  alive  for  the 
murder  of  a  husband  or  master,  or  for  coining.^  Both  men  and 
women  were  whipped,  the  men  publicly  through  the  streets,  the 
women  as  a  rule  privately,  for  petty  thefts.^  The  pillory  was 
still  in  use  for  perjury  and  other  offences.*  Meanwhile  the  state 
of  the  prisons,  where  innocent  and  guilty,  debtors  (often  with 
their  families)  and  convicted  criminals  were  all  huddled  together 
without  discrimination,  was,  when  Howard  began  his  work,  a 
scandal  of  the  first  magnitude.  Gaol-fever  raged,  prisons  were 
still  private  property,  and  the  prisoner,  innocent  or  guilty,  had 
to  fee  his  gaoler  and  pay  for  every  comfort  and  even  for  neces- 
saries. In  the  Bishop  of  Ely's  prison  the  gaoler  prevented 
escapes  by  chaining  his  prisoners  on  their  backs  on  the  floor, 
and  fastening  a  spiked  iron  collar  about  their  necks.  "  Even 
when  re -constructed  it  had  no  free  ward,  no  infirmary  and  no 
straw ;  and  debtors  and  felons  were  confined  together."  ^ 

13.  But  even  before  Howard's  time  a  new  order  of  ideas  was 
slowly  emerging.  ^Aa  society  becomes  more  confident  in  its 
power  to  maintain  order,  the  cruelty  and  callousness  that  are 
born  of  fear  are  seen  in  a  new  light.  More  humane  influences 
make  themselves  felt,  and  from  that  moment  excessive  severity 
begins  to  mihtate  against  the  proper  execution  of  the  law, 
especially  under  a  jury  system  hke  ours.  [With  the  advance 
of  civil  and  religious  liberty,  political  or  ecclesiastical  offences 
grow  rarel  and  a  breach  of  the  law  becomes  more  and  more 
synonynlous  with  a  grave  moral  offence  against  society.  The 
whole  problem  of  criminal  justice  is  thus  transferred  to  the 
ethical  plane,  but  the  change  raises  problems  which  a  century 
has  been  too  short  a  time  to  solve.  The  general  right  to  punish 
may  be  derived  from  the  right  of  society  to  protect  itself.  This 
principle  taken  by  itself  *  might  be  held  to  justify  the  barbarities 

1  Op.  cit.,  467. 

*  In  practice  they  were  generally  strangled  first,  but  this  depended  on 
the  executioner.  Even  the  torture  of  the  flames  did  not  prevent  an 
eighteenth-century  mob  from  pelting  and  jeering  at  the  victim.  See  the 
accoimt  of  the  burning  of  Barbara  Spencer  for  coining  in  1721  (Pike,  ii. 
287,  288). 

2  ib.,  380.  *  Till  1816.     For  perjury  till  1837  {ib.,  377). 
«  lb.,  355. 

*  So  taken  it  is  a  one-sided  account.  Punishment,  like  other  actions,  can 
only  be  justified  as  doing  the  maximum  of  good  and  the  minimum  of  evil 
admitted  by  the  circumstances  to  all  concerned.  If  any  evil  (suffering  or 
loss   of  character)  is  inflicted   on   the  criminal  which  is  not  absolutely 


LAW  AND  JUSTICE  125 

of  the  old  law,  had  not  experience  shown  that  extreme  severity 
was  not  in  reality  an  efifective  instrument  of  discipline,  while 
it  undoubtedly  tended  to  harden  manners  and  accustom  people 
to  witness  suffering  with  indifference.  Its  deahngs  with  the 
criminal  mark,  one  may  say,  the  zero  point  in  the  scale  of  treat- 
ment which  society  conceives  to  be  the  due  of  its  various  members. 
If  we  raise  this  point  we  raise  the  standard  all  along  the  scale. 
The  pauper  may  justly  expect  something  better  than  the  criminal, 
the  self-supporting  poor  man  or  woman  than  the  pauper.  Thus, 
if  it  is  the  aim  of  good  civihzation  to  raise  the  general  standard 
of  life,  this  is  a  tendency  which  a  savage  criminal  law  will  hinder 
and  a  humane  one  assist.  Moreover,  the  old  rigour,  so  far  as  it 
rested  on  reason  at  all,  was  based  on  a  very  crude  psychology. 
People  are  not  deterred  from  murder  by  the  sight  of  the  murderer 
danghng  from  a  gibbet.  On  the  contrary,  what  there  is  in  them 
of  lust  for  blood  is  tickled  and  excited,  their  sensuaHty  or  ferocity 
is  aroused,  and  the  counteracting  impulses,  the  aversion  to 
bloodshed,  the  compunction  for  suffering,  are  arrested.  Fear, 
on  which  the  principle  of  severity  wholly  rehes,  is  a  master 
motive  only  with  the  weak,  and  only  wliile  it  is  very  present. 
As  soon  as  there  is  a  chance  of  escaping  detection  it  evaporates, 
and,  it  would  seem,  the  more  completely  in  proportion  as  the 
very  magnitude  of  the  penalty  makes  it  difficult  for  a  man  really 
to  imagine  himself  as  the  central  figure  in  so  terrible  a  drama. 
Finally,  the  infliction  of  heavy  penalties  for  secondary  crimes 
may  induce  a  reckless  despair,  and  the  sajdng  about  the  sheep 
and  the  lamb  was  but  too  apt  a  comment  on  the  working  of 
the  criminal  law  at  the  time.  Thus  the  first  step  of  reform  was 
to  abolish  the  ferocious  penalties  of  the  old  law.  In  this  direc- 
tion a  long  list  of  well-known  and  honoured  names — Beccaria, 
Howard,  Bentham,  Romilly,  Fowell  Buxton,  Ehzabeth  Fry — 
indicate  roughly  the  intellectual  and  moral  influences  at  work. 
The  Society  of  Friends,^  French  Rationalists,  Enghsh  Utili- 
tarians and  the  Evangehcals  played  their  part  in  this,  as  in  so 
many  of  the  changes  that  have  made  the  modern  world.  The 
movement  was  under  weigh  by  the  second  third  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  Beccaria's  book  was  published  in  1764  and  had  an 
immediate  success,  bearing  early  fruit  in  the  abohtion  of  torture 

necessitated  by  social  seciirity,  or  the  ultimate  welfare  of  the  criminal 
himself,  it  is  evil  inflicted  for  its  own  sake,  which  is  the  essence  of 
immorality. 

1  Already,  in  founding  Pennsylvania,  Penn  had  allowed  capital  punish- 
ment for  murder  alone.  The  Philadelphia  society  for  relieving  distressed 
prisoners  was  formed  in  1776  (Wines,  142). 


126  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

on  the  Continent.  Branding  was  abolished  in  England  in  1779. 
Capital  punishment  had  been  abolished  for  a  time  in  Russia  in 
1753,  and  the  purchase  of  prisoners  as  galley-slaves  was  forbidden 
by  Maria  Theresa  in  1762.  In  England  the  peine  forte  et  dure 
was  abolished  in  1772,  and  in  1770  a  House  of  Commons  Com- 
mittee even  reported  that  there  were  some  offences  for  which 
the  death  penalty  might  with  advantage  be  exchanged  for  some 
other  punishment.  These  few  indications  show  that  the  tide 
was  beginning  to  turn.  In  France  the  movement  was  hastened 
by  the  Revolution.  The  Declaration  of  Rights  in  1789  laid 
down  the  controlhng  principle  of  the  modern  theory  that  "  the 
right  to  punish  is  limited  by  the  law  of  necessity,"  and  this 
was  supplemented  in  1791  by  the  declaration  of  the  Assembly 
that  "  penalties  should  be  proportioned  to  the  crimes  for  which 
they  are  inflicted,  and  that  they  are  intended  not  merely  to 
punish,  but  to  reform  the  culprit."  ^  In  accordance  with  this 
principle  the  Assembly  made  imprisonment  the  chief  method 
of  punishment,  and  founded  the  penitentiary  system  of  France. 
In  England  the  great  reaction  produced  by  the  Revolution 
retarded  the  reform  of  the  criminal  law,  but  throughout  the 
time  of  the  Revolutionary  Wars  men  like  Romilly  fought  an 
uphill  fight.  He  succeeded  in  suppressing  the  death  penalty 
for  pocket-picking  in  1808,  but  his  subsequent  efforts  to  abolish 
capital  punishment  for  stealing  goods  of  the  value  of  five  shillings 
from  shops  w^ere  frustrated  by  the  House  of  Lords .^  Little 
progress,  in  fact,  was  made  till  1832,  when  horse  and  sheep 
steahng  ceased  to  be  capital,  and  from  this  time  onwards  the 
fist  of  capital  offences  was  steadily  reduced,  till  in  1861  murder 
was,  for  all  practical  purposes,  the  only  one  that  remained.* 

Meanwhile,  as  substitutes  for  the  old  savagery,  there  grew 
up  first  the  transportation  and  then  the  penitentiary  system. 
Regarded  as  a  means  of  giving  the  offender  a  fresh  start  in  life 
in  new  surroundings  remote  from  his  old  bad  associates  and  the 
memory  of  his  crimes,  transportation  has  much  to  recommend  it, 
but  it  was  clearly  incompatible  with  colonial  development.  It 
was  necessary  to  fall  back  on  the  prison  system,  and  the  efforts 
of  reformers  have  been  devoted  to  the  task  of  making  confine- 
ment— a  thing  soul-destructive  in  itself — as  nearly  compatible 
as  may  be  with  the  regeneration  of  the  prisoner.  These  efforts 
have  hardly  passed  the  experimental  stage,  yet  certain  results 

1  Wines,  p.  86.  ^  Pike,  450. 

*  Pike,  ib. ;  Stephen,  i.  474.  Together  vv^ith  miirder,  treason,  piracy 
with  violence,  and  settitag  fire  to  dockyards  and  arsenals  remain  nominally 
capital  offences.  It  will  be  remembered  that  a  case  of  treason  was  recently 
tried  and  the  death  sentence  formally  passed,  but  very  shortly  commuted. 


LAW  AND  JUSTICE  127 

have  emerged.  The  necessity  for  a  classification  which  prevents 
the  first  offender  from  being  contaminated  by  the  hardened 
gaol-bird'  the  benefits  of  action  and  practical  employment,  the 
superiority  of  hope  to  fear  as  a  stimulus  to  good  conduct  and 
the  consequent  advantages  to  be  found  in  allowing  the  convict 
means  of  improving  his  position  and  even  shortening  his  sentence 
by  good  behaviour,  are  matters  of  general  agreement.  But  it  is 
clearly  necessary  to  go  further  than  this.  The  plan  of  imprison- 
ing a  man  for  a  longer  or  shorter  term,  and  then,  without  asking 
what  effect  his  experience  is  likely  to  have  had  on  him,  turning 
him  loose  again  upon  society,  a  broken  human  being  less  capable 
than  ever  of  earning  an  honest  living,  cannot  stand.  The  old 
way  of  hanging  at  least  rid  society  of  the  criminal.  It  stood 
condemned  for  its  utter  barbarity,  which  was  indirectly  as 
harmful  to  society  as  it  was  cruel  to  the  sufferer.  The  modern 
method  is  still  a  terrible  penalty,  at  least  to  the  better  sort  of 
criminals,  and,  far  from  relieving  society  of  their  presence,  tends 
to  harden  and  degrade  them  further.  Hence  judicious  thinkers 
like  Frederick  Hill,  in  his  report  of  1839,  soon  recognized  that 
a  more  thorough  system  was  required.  The  offender  must  be 
reformed,  and  at  need  he  must  even  be  detained  until  he  has 
given  good  promise  of  reformation,  and  society  must  help  him 
back  into  honest  ways.^  The  most  thoroughgoing  attempt  in 
this  direction  is  that  of  the  Elmira  system,  followed  noAV  in 
several  American  states,  in  which,  the  sentence  being  wholly  or 
within  limits  indeterminate,  the  fate  of  the  convict  depends  on 
his  own  exertions.  He  can  raise  himself  from  a  lower  to  a  higher 
grade  by  continued  good  behaviour,  and,  finally,  can  obtain 
liberation  on  parole  .^ 

14.  Whatever  the  outcome  of  these  experiments,  the  modern 
state  stands  committed  to  the  humane  method  of  criminal 
treatment,  and  could  not  revert  to  the  old  plan  save  at  the  risk 
of  a  general  re-barbarization.^     That  being  so,  it  is  necessary  to 

1  For  the  views  of  Frederick  and  Matthew  Davenport  Hill,  see  Wines, 
217,  etc. 

2  Wines,  p.  220,  etc. 

^  The  modern  reform  of  the  criminal  law  is  not  the  first  attempt  known 
to  history  at  a  mitigation  of  punishment.  The  Classical  Chinese  books 
condemn  excessive  corporal  punishment  as  an  innovation  (Shoo  King,  xxvii. 
3),  and  represent  the  practice  of  composition  as  a  measure  of  mercy.  It 
has,  unfortunately,  a  darker  side  (see  Legge,  note,  pp.  608-9).  Confucius 
continually  protests  against  governing  the  people  by  punishment,  and 
declares  that  within  100  years  a  series  of  good  rulers  would  be  able  to  dis- 
pense witli  capital  punishment.  Under  Buddhist  influences  King  Asoka 
of   Magadlia  abolished   capital   punishment,  at   first   for  certain   crirjes, 


128  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

push  the  new  method  through  and  to  treat  the  criminal  through- 
out as  a  "  ease  "  to  be  understood  and  cured.  We  touch  here 
the  scientific  conception  underlying  the  modern  theory  of  punish- 
ment. Crime,  like  everj^thing  else  that  men  do  or  suffer,  is  the 
outcome  of  definite  conditions.  These  conditions  may  be  psycho- 
logical or  physical,  personal  or  social.  They  arise  in  the  character 
of  the  agent  as  it  has  grown  up  in  him  from  birth  in  interaction 
Avith  the  circumstances  of  his  life.  We  may  recognize  them  in 
social  surroundings,  in  overcrowding  or  underfeeding,  in  the 
sense  of  despair  produced  by  the  denial  of  justice,  or  in  the 
overweening  insolence  of  social  superiority.  But  whatever  they 
may  be,  if  we  wish  to  prevent  crime,  we  must  discover  the 
conditions  operating  to  produce  crime  and  act  upon  them. 
This  does  not  destroy,  but  defines  personal  responsibihty.  The 
last  link  in  the  chain  of  causation  which  produces  any  act  is 
always  the  disposition  of  the  agent  at  the  time  of  action,  and 
unless  dominated  by  ungovernable  impulse,^  this  disposition  is 
always  modifiable  by  the  introduction  of  a  fresh  motive  as  a 
weight  in  the  scale.  But  though  not  destroyed,  responsibility 
is  transformed  by  science,  and  with  it  the  whole  conception  of 
punishment.^     When  a  wicked  act  was  held  to  be  something 

and  by  the  thirty-first  year  of  his  reign,  altogether  (Duncker,  iv.  535). 
In  the  tenth  and  eleventh  centuries  a  wave  of  feeling  against  capital 
punishment  passed  over  Europe,  but  the  feeling  was  religious  rather 
than  humanitarian,  and  allowed  the  substitution  of  savage  mutilations. 
Hence  the  Conqueror's  edict,  "  Interdico  etiam  ne  quis  occidatur  aut 
suspendatur  pro  aliqua  culpa,  sed  eruantur  oculi  et  testiculi  abscidantur  " 
(Pollock  and  Maitland,  i.  88,  ii.  461).  The  exchange  was  doubtful  gain,  and 
without  legislation  death  resumed  its  place  as  the  penalty  for  felony  by 
the  thirteenth  century.  Clerks  continued  to  have  difficvilties  of  conscience 
as  to  drawing  up  capital  sentences  and  avoided  writing  the  decisive  words, 
and  the  tradition,  as  every  one  knows,  persisted  through  the  great  days  of 
the  religious  Inquisition.  What  distinguishes  the  modern  movement  is 
that  it  rests  neither  on  the  mere  sentiment  of  mercy,  nor  on  any  theory  of 
the  intrinsic  wickedness  of  the  taking  of  life,  but  on  an  attempt,  however 
imperfect  as  yet,  to  render  a  scientific  account  of  the  causes  of  crime  and 
the  effects  of  punishraent,  both  on  the  criminal  and  on  society  at  large. 

1  This  makes  no  exception  to  the  general  statement  that  character  is  the 
cause  of  action,  since  that  paralysis  of  the  will  which  leaves  a  man  the  sport 
of  impulse  is  itself  a  matter  of  character.  As  to  control  of  man's  conduct 
by  heredity  much  nonsense  is  talked.  Heredity  is  not  a  force  controlling  a 
man  from  without,  but  a  short  expression  for  the  supposed  antecedent 
causes  of  the  qualities  which  make  him  what  he  is,  and  by  what  he  is,  he  is 
to  be  judged,  so  far  as  he  is  judged  at  all. 

*  Responsibility,  properly  understood,  is  definable  as  the  capacity  to  be 
determined  by  an  adequate  motive.  A  man  is  responsible  who  knows  what 
is  expected  of  him,  understands  the  consequences  of  his  action,  and  is 
determined  therein  by  that  knowledge.  Reward  and  punishment,  praise 
and  blame,  are  therefore  justly  awarded  in  so  far  as  they  affect  action. 
Beyond  this,  retribution  is  inapplicable,  and  praise  and  blame  pass  intp 
ftdiniration  and  pity. 


LAW  AND  JUSTICE  129 

arising  in  a  spontaneous  arbitrary  manner  from  the  unmotived 
evil  choice  of  a  man,  the  vindictive  retribution  which  is  founded 
on  instinct  and  fostered  by  the  needs  of  early  society  seemed 
amply  justified.  When  good  and  evil  alike  are  seen  to  grow 
out  of  assignable  antecedents  by  processes  wliich  calmly  judging 
men  can  pretty  closely  foretell,  to  rest  on  laws  of  growth  and 
disease  which  apply  to  character  as  other  laws  apply  to  the 
physical  organism,  to  express  the  lack  of  imagination  or  low 
power  of  reasoning  which  makes  men  hard,  cruel  and  unjust, 
or  to  flow  from  the  over-excitement  or  insufficient  satisfaction 
of  physical  impulses  that  makes  them  a  prey  to  lust  or  alcohol, 
then  every  thinking  man  is  made  to  feel  in  a  new  sense  that 
but  for  the  grace  of  conditions  wliich  he  has  only  very  partially 
and  imperfectly  controlled,  there  where  the  driminal  passes  to 
disgrace  and  misery  goes  he  himself,  the  juryman,  the  judge, 
the  newspaper  reader  who  explodes  in  satisfaction  over  the 
swinging  sentence.  No  one  can  fully  face  the  problem  of  respon- 
sibihty  and  become,  however  dimly,  aware  of  the  multitudinous 
roots  from  which  character  and  conduct  spring,  without  feehng 
the  utter  inadequacy  of  the  retributive  theory  of  punishment. 
Vindictiveness  has  its  natural  sphere  in  the  stage  at  which 
crime  is  only  known  as  an  injury  to  be  revenged.  As  soon  as 
it  becomes  a  wrong  act  to  be  punished,  the  nature  of  wrong 
and  the  meaning  of  punishment  have  to  be  reconsidered.  If 
the  first  principle  of  rational  ethics  is  that  action  can  only  be 
justified  by  doing  good  to  those  whom  it  affects,  this  principle 
receives  a  striking  confirmation  from  the  one  quarter  in  which 
its  apphcation  might  seem  doubtful.  For  a  natural  impulse 
makes  us  desire  to  harm  the  wicked,  but  the  history  of  criminal 
law  and  the  philosophical  analysis  of  responsibihty  combine  to 
prove  to  us  that  this  is  the  impulse  of  the  old  Adam  and  not 
warranted  by  reason  or  justice.  Justice,  in  punishment  as  in 
other  things,  seeks  the  good  of  all  whom  it  affects,  of  the  criminal 
as  of  the  injured  party.  Yet  all  true  punishment  inflicts  pain, 
for  precisely  the  truest  punishment  consists  in  the  full  reahza- 
tion  of  the  character  of  what  one  has  done.  This  reahzation, 
with  all  the  mental  misery  that  it  involves,  we  may  justly  wish 
to  be  the  lot  of  every  criminal,  whether  convicted  or  uncon\acted, 
whether  despised  or,  like  the  greatest  offenders,  honoured  by 
the  world.  So  far  pain  is  rightly  attached  to  wrong-doing  as, 
ethically  speaking,  its  inevitable  consequence.  But  any  other 
sort  of  pain,  any  physical  suffering  that  has  no  such  healing 
moral  effect,  may  gratify  an  animal  thirst  for  vengeance,  but 
has  no  solace  for  our  moral  thirst  for  the  triumph,  even  in  the 
E 


130  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

mind  of  the  wrong-doer,  of  the  righteousness  which  he  has  set 
at  naught. 

The  modern  state  upholds  its  members  in  the  enjoyment  of 
their  rights  and  gives  them  redress  for  injuries  to  themselves  in 
the  civil  courts.  It  also  intervenes  on  its  own  motion  to  main- 
tain pubhc  order  by  the  punishment  of  law-breakers.  ReHgious 
and  pohtical  offences  falling  into  the  background,  legal  offences 
tend  to  be  restricted  to  criminal  acts,  and  punishment  to  be 
proportioned  to  the  imputed  degree  of  moral  guilt  .^  But  this 
ethical  view  of  punishment,  when  pushed  home,  compels  the 
admission  that  the  individual  theory  of  responsibility  is  no 
more  final  than  the  old  collective  theory,  and  punishment  is 
compelled  to  justify  itself  by  its  actual  effect  on  society  in 
maintaining  order  without  legaHzing  brutahty,  on  the  criminal 
in  deterring  him  or  in  aiding  his  reform,  in  both  relations  as 
doing  good,  not  as  doing  harm.  The  criminal,  too,  has  his 
rights — ^the  right  to  be  punished,  but  so  punished  that  he  may 
be  helped  in  the  path  of  reform. 

Briefly  to  resume  the  main  phases  in  the  evolution  of  public 
justice,  we  find  that  at  the  outset  pure  anarchy  or  self-redress 
is  qualified  first  by  the  sense  of  solidarity  within  the  primary 
social  unit.  This  expresses  itself  first  in  the  repression  of  offences, 
especially  of  a  sacral  character,  held  dangerous  to  the  group  as  a 
whole,  and  then  in  the  control  of  self -redress.  As  between  the 
primary  units  a  system  of  collective  self-redress  arises  which  in 
turn  yields  to  the  authority  of  chief  or  council  representing  the 
larger  community  as  a  whole.  As  long  as  the  vindication  of 
rights  rests  mainly  in  the  hands  of  the  kindred  or  other  group, 
responsibility  is  collective,  intention  is  apt  to  be  ignored  and 
punishment  is  not  assessed  according  to  the  merit  of  the  indi- 
vidual. When  retaliation  is  mitiga,ted  by  the  introduction  of 
money  payments  no  change  in  ethical  principle  occurs.  It  is 
only  as  social  order  evolves  an  independent  organ  for  the  adjust- 
ment of  disputes  and  the  prevention  of  crime,  that  the  ethical 
idea  becomes  separated  out  from  the  conflicting  passions  which 
are  its  earher  husk,  and  step  by  step  the  individual  is  separated 
from  his  family,  his  intentions  are  taken  into  account,  his  formal 

1  The  3onverse  proposition  that  wicked  acts  are  all  treated  as  legal 
offences  does  not  follow,  nor  is  it  true  of  the  modern  state.  The  questions 
as  to  the  sphere  of  the  state  which  arise  here  cannot  be  dealt  with  on  this 
occasion. 

Offences  against  the  public  order  do  not  constitute  an  exception  to  the 
statement  in  the  text.  In  themselves  they  are  slight  offences,  and  the 
penalty  is  always  light,  but  the  deliberate  defiance  of  the  public  order  is, 
of  course,  an  immoral  act  unless  justified  by  some  bad  end  which  that 
order  may  be  made  to  serve. 


LAW  AND  JUSTICE  131 

rectitude  or  want  of  rectitude  is  thrown  into  the  background  by 
the  essential  justice  of  the  case,  appeals  to  magical  processes  are 
abandoned,  and  the  law  sets  before  itself  the  aim  of  disco vermg 
the  facts  and  maintaining  right  or  punishing  wrong  accordingly. 
The  rise  of  public  justice  proper  necessitates  the  gradual 
abandonment  of  the  whole  conception  of  the  trial  as  a  struggle 
between  two  parties,  and  substitutes  the  idea  of  ascertaining 
the  actual  truth  in  order  that  justice  may  be  done.  That  is 
at  first  carried  out  by  supernatural  means,  viz,  by  the  Ordeal 
and  the  Oath.  These  in  turn  give  way  to  a  true  judicial  inquiry 
by  evidence  and  rational  proof.  The  transition  occurred  in 
England  mainly  during  the  thirteenth  century,  the  turning  point 
being  marked  by  the  prohibition  of  the  Ordeal  by  Innocent  III. 
in  1215.  The  early  stages  of  public  justice  administered  by  the 
recently  developed  central  power  led  to  excessive  barbarity  in 
the  discovery  and  punishment  of  crime.  It  took  some  more 
centuries  to  prove  to  the  world  that  efficacy  in  these  relations 
could  be  reconciled  with  humanity  and  a  rational  consideration 
of  the  best  means  of  getting  at  truth.  By  so  long  and  round- 
about a  process  is  a  result,  so  simple  and  obvious  to  our  minds, 
attained. 

We  have  thus  dealt  briefly  with  the  development  of  the  state 
organization  for  the  maintenance  of  rights  and  the  suppression 
of  wrong-doing.  We  have  now  to  consider  the  development  of 
the  principal  rights  to  be  maintained.  In  a  large  measure  these 
group  themselves  in  accordance  with  the  main  divisions  into 
which  human  beings  fall — divisions  of  sex,  of  community,  of 
class,  and  so  forth — and  these  divisions  will  guide  us  in  the 
chapters  now  to  come.  Nothing  so  intimately  affects  the 
standard  of  obligation  or  throws  so  much  light  on  the  manner 
in  which  rights  and  duties  are  conceived  as  the  degree  in  which 
they  are  affected  by  such  distinctions.  These  will  accordingly 
form  the  subjects  of  the  three  following  chapters.  There  will 
remain  certain  general  obhgations,  principally  those  arising  out 
of  rights  of  property,  wliich  will  require  separate  treatment. 


CHAPTER  IV 

MARRIAGE    AND    THE   POSITION    OF   WOMEN 

1,  The  division  of  the  sexes  affects  the  standard  of  conduct  in 
two  ways.  First,  it  gives  rise  to  special  relations,  carrying  Vvdih 
them  special  rights  and  duties.  Secondly,  it  cuts  every  people 
into  two  portions,  and  the  legal  and  ethical  position  of  these  two 
portions  is  never  wholly  the  same.  In  greater  or  less  degree  the 
rights  and  the  duties  of  men  and  women  differ,  and  the  diver- 
gence is  not  confined  to  matters  arising  directly  from  the  sex 
relation  itself.  Important  as  these  differences  are  for  an  under- 
standing of  ethical  conceptions,  they  are  themselves  extremely 
difficult  to  ascertain  and  interpret.  In  no  other  department  of 
ethics  are  the  types  of  custom  strewn  in  such  disarray  over 
the  various  stages  of  culture.  Nowhere  else  is  it  so  difficult 
to  classify  without  bewildering  ourselves  by  cross  divisions. 
Nowhere  else  is  a  bald  statement  of  the  law  so  Hkely  to  mislead 
as  to  actual  practice  or  living  sentiment.  For  no  other  human 
relation  is  at  once  so  personal,  and  so  bound  up  by  multitudin- 
ous threads  with  the  forces  and  ideas,  economic,  rehgious  and 
even  poHtical,  which  go  to  determine  the  structure  of  any  society. 

The  position  of  woman  is  not  wholly  to  be  judged  by  her 
condition  as  wife  and  mother.  Often  the  unmarried  woman  has 
important  rights  which  marriage  takes  away;  often  also  the 
married  woman  acquires  a  degree  of  freedom  and  dignity  which 
her  unmarried  sister  lacks.  Nor,  conversely,  is  the  position  of 
the  wife  the  sole  question  of  importance  in  the  law  of  marriage. 
Nevertheless  the  two  questions  are  too  nearly  alhed  for  separate 
treatment,  and  in  order  to  understand  the  position  of  women 
we  must  pass  at  once  to  a  general  consideration  of  the  law  and 
customs  relating  to  marriage. 

It  will  help  us  to  begin  by  distinguishing  the  principal  ques- 
tions to  be  asked  about  the  marriage  customs  of  any  society. 
Thus  we  may  classify  marriage — 

(1)  According  to  the  number  of  parties  to  the  union  (mono- 
gamy, polygamy,  etc.). 

(2)  According  to  the  restrictions  on  marriage  (exogamy  and 
endogamy). 

132 


MARRIAGE  AND  THE  POSITION   OF  WOMEN    133 

(3)  According  to  its  stability  (law  of  divorce). 

(4)  By  the  methods  of  obtaining  a  husband  or  wife  (e.  g. 
capture,  purchase,  contract). 

(5)  By  the  relations  between  husband  and  wife  (in  the  family). 
The  two  last  questions  are  closely  related,  and  both  have  an 

important  bearing  on  the  general  position  of  women.  Under 
each  head  we  shall  see  what  are  the  principal  forms  of  mar- 
riage customs  that  exist,  and  which  are  the  prevalent  types  in 
the  savage  and  barbaric  world.  We  shall  then  briefly  trace  the 
liistory  of  marriage  and  of  the  position  of  women  among  civilized 
peoples. 

2.  I.  We  have  to  ask,  first,  in  any  community,  who,  or  rather 
how  many,  are  the  possible  parties  to  a  marriage.  Is  it  (a)  a 
union  of  one  man  with  one  woman,  or  (6)  of  one  man  with  two  or 
more  women,  or  (c)  of  two  or  more  men  with  one  woman,  or  (d)  of 
a  group  of  men  with  a  group  of  women,  or  (e)  is  it  wholly  irregular, 
the  negation  of  union,  promiscuity  1  All  these  are  types  of  mar- 
riage which  exist  or  have  existed,  or  at  least  have  been  alleged 
to  exist.  Further,  they  split  up  into  sub-types.  Polygyny,  for 
example,  the  union  of  one  man  with  two  or  more  women,  is 
found  in  the  two  fairly  distinguishable  types  of  polygamy  proper, 
in  which  several  women  are  alike  wives,  and  concubinage,  in 
which  there  is  one  chief  and  fully  legitimate  wife,  and  one 
or  more  in  a  subordinate  and  perhaps  servile  position.^  The 
one  type,  moreover,  shades  off  into  the  other  by  gradations 
according  as  the  chief  wife's  position  is  more  or  less  fuUy  de- 
fined,2  and  as  that  of  the  secondary  wives  is  more  or  less  servile. 

^  In  China  there  is  only  one  chief  wife.  The  others  are  secondary,  but 
legitimate  wives.  The  old  Babylonian  law  recognizes  one  wife  (allowing 
a  second  in  case  of  her  being  invalided),  with  concubines  who  were  to 
recognize  the  wife  as  mistress.  The  case  of  Leah  and  Rachel  illustrates  a 
family  in  which  there  were  two  legitimate  wives  as  well  as  concubines. 
Mussulman  law  allows  four  legitimate  wives  and  an  indefinite  number  of 
concubines.  The  old  Japanese  law  recognized  polygamy  with  a  head- 
wife  (Post,  i.  62 ;  Kohler,  Z.  f.  V.  R.,  vi.  369).  For  instances  among 
uncivilized  peoples,  see  Howard,  i.  143-144,  and  Westermarck,  p.  442, 
etc.,  and  Cambridge  Anthropological  Expedition  to  the  Torres  Straits,  p.  230. 
There  are  borderland  cases  in  which  marriage  proper  seems  to  be  mono- 
gamous, though  concubinage  is  tolerated,  e.  g.  among  the  Bali  monogamy 
is  the  only  legal  marriage,  but  concubinage  with  unmarried  slave  girls  is 
practised  (Hake,  p.  379).  In  other  cases  polygamy  is  in  disfavour.  Among 
the  Kayans  of  Borneo  it  is  limited  to  chiefs,  and  even  for  them  "  public 
opinion  does  not  easily  condone  a  second  wife  "  (Hose  and  McDougall,  i.  73). 

^  In  some  cases  a  second  wife  may  only  be  taken  if  the  first  is  childless, 
e.  g.  among  peoples  of  the  Pimjab  and  the  Dekkan,  the  Santals  in  Bengal, 
some  Bombay  tribes  (Post,  I.  c).  Post  also  refers  to  Bulgarian  an  1 
r^Iontenegrin  customs. 

Among  the  Maia^  s,  under  the  Semando  form  of  marriage,  the  taking  of  a 


134  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

Polyandry,  again,  though  far  less  common  than  polygamy, 
has  many  varieties.  The  several  husbands  may,  and  in  the 
commonest  case  do,  form  a  definite  group.  Generally,  as  in 
the  well-known  case  of  Thibetan  marriage,  they  are  all  brothers.^ 
But  this  is  not  always  so.  Polyandry  may  merely  take  the  form 
of  permitting  a  woman  to  have  many  husbands  without  specify- 
ing any  particular  relationship  between  them  except  such  as 
may  follow  indirectly  from  the  other  marriage  regulations  of 
the  community.  This  is  the  case  among  the  Nairs  of  the  Malabar 
coast.  The  same  people  illustrate  a  still  further  variety,  the 
combination  of  polyandry  and  polygam3^  For  as  the  Nair 
woman  may  have  many  husbands,  so  the  Nair  husband  may 
have  many  wives .^  Again,  in  the  relations  between  the  husbands 
there  are  differences  quite  parallel  to  those  which  distinguish 
polygamy  from  concubinage.  All  the  husba,nds,  that  is,  may 
have  equal  rights,  or  there  may  be  one  chief  husband  and  others 
inferior  and  secondary  to  him.  Of  such  a  character  is  the 
secondary  husband  who  assumes  both  the  rights  and  the  duties 
of  the  proper  husband  in  his  absence  among  the  Aleuts.^  Some 
peoples  have  the  punishment — to  our  eyes  the  very  paradoxical 

second  wife  is  a  ground  of  divorce,  and  at  Mokomoko  the  husband  must 
pay  her  a  fine,  40  gulden  (Waitz,  v.  145,  146).  Among  the  Khonds  the 
wife's  consent  is  required  (Reckis,  Primitive  Folk,  p.  281).  Post  gives 
similar  instances  among  the  Khyengs,  the  Tamils  of  Ceylon,  and  Punjab 
peoples  (Post,  i.  63,  from  Kohler,  Z.  f.  V.  R.,  vi.  192),  and  Howard 
(i.  144)  quotes  a  case  among  the  North  American  Indians.  Among  the 
Touaregs  the  taking  of  a  second  wife  is  a  ground  of  divorce  (Letourneau, 
La  Femme,  p.  308). 

^  Among  the  Todas  the  wife  belongs  to  the  elder  brother,  but  the 
yovmger  brothers  also  have  rights  over  her  as  they  grow  up,  and  an  extra 
lover  is  permitted  as  well  (Reclus,  p.  196).  Polyandry  is,  however,  dis- 
appearing except  among  the  indigent.  Among  the  Santals  the  husband's 
brother  is  admitted,  but  not  too  openly  (Risley,  ii.  229).  According  to 
Westermarck  (p.  453)  there  are  only  three  cases  in  Asia  in  which  polyandry 
is  not  limited  to  brothers — viz.  the  Nairs,  Khasias,  and  certain  Cossacks, 
but  Letourneau  (La  Femme,  p.  216)  denies  that  it  is  strictly  limited  to 
brothers  in  Thibet. 

*  Compare  C'jesar's  account  of  the  ancient  Britons  :  "  Uxores  habent 
deni  duodenique  inter  se  communes,  et  maxime  fratres  cum  fratribus 
parentesque  cum  liberis ;  sed,  si  qui  sunt  ex  his  nati,  eorum  habentur 
liberi,  a  quibus  primum  virgines  quseque  deductae  sunt "  (B.  O.,  v.  14). 
That  is,  there  was  a  chief  husband  and  the  rest  were  secondary.  Among 
the  polyandrous  tribes  of  primitive  Arabia  the  wife,  according  to  Strabo, 
passed  the  night  with  the  elder  brother,  but  the  others  had  access  to  her 
(Starcke,  p.  137).     For  the  Nairs,  see  Reclus,  162. 

^  Reclus,  pp.  66-67.  Among  the  Thlinkeets  and  Koloshes  a  younger 
brother  is  preferred  for  this  purpose.  Secondary  hvisbands  occur  among 
the  Papuas  (Kohler,  Z.  f.  V.  R.,  1900,  p.  334).  Among  the  Roucoyennes, 
the  wife's  lover  enters  the  husband's  household  as  a  peito,  something 
between  a  client  and  a  serf  (Coudreau,  Revue  d'Ethnog.,  vii.  479). 


MARRIAGE  AND  THE  POSITION   OF  WOMEN    135 

punishment — for  adultery  that  the  paramour,  on  detection,  is 
compelled  to  become  a  secondary  husband  and  contribute  to  the 
maintenance  of  the  family. ^ 

3.  Of  group  marriage,  again,  more  than  one  variety  is  ab- 
stractly possible,  though  as  here  the  evidence  becomes  scantier 
it  is  not  so  easy  to  say  which  tj^pes,  if  any,  have  been  actually 
represented  in  history.  Indeed,  it  cannot  be  regarded  as  certain 
that  any  such  institution  as  the  actual  marriage  of  two  groups,  as 
distinct  from  a  combination  of  polygamy  and  polyandry  with 
certain  marriage  taboos,  has  ever  existed.  As  the  whole  subject 
is  involved  in  controversy,  it  will  be  well  to  summarize  what  i" 
actually  found  in  a  leading  case.  Among  the  Central  Australia*, 
tribes  two  types  of  marriage  custom  have  been  distinguished  by 
Messrs.  Spencer  and  Gillen.  The  first,  which  specially  concerns 
us,  is  that  practised  among  the  Urabunna.  The  tribe  is  divided 
into  two  classes,  and  these  classes  are  exogamous — that  is  to 
say,  a  man  must  not  marry  within  his  class,  but  must  choose  his 
wife  from  the  other.  Secondly,  there  are  distinct  totems  within 
the  tribe,  and  these  are  similarly  exogamous.    Thirdly,  each  of 

^  Among  the  Konyagas,  if  the  paramoiir  is  a  member  of  the  husband's 
family  the  latter  may  compel  him  to  obey  his  orders  and  those  of  the  wife, 
with  whom  henceforth  the  association  is  legitimate  (Reclus,  p.  67). 
Altogether  Westermarck  enumerates  some  thirty-six  instances  of  tribes 
practising  polyandry  (p.  450).  Among  over  500  peoples  studied  we  found 
only  twenty-two  cases,  occurring,  however,  in  all  the  grades  of  the  simpler 
culture.  To  these  must  be  added  the  people  of  Langerote  and  Porta- 
ventmra  in  the  Canary  Islands  in  the  sixteenth  centiury  (Letoumeau,  p.  303), 
and  in  antiquity  the  Arabs  and  British  (Westermarck,  p.  454).  The  case 
of  the  primitive  Aryans  in  India  is  dovibtful.  Tlie  two  Aswins  in  the  Rig 
Veda  win  one  damsel  as  the  prize  of  a  chariot  race,  and  she  acknowledges 
their  "  hvisbandship."  In  the  Mahabharata  Draupadi  is  won  by  the  eldest 
of  five  Pandava  princes  and  becomes  the  wife  of  them  all,  but  her  father 
describes  this  as  "an  unlawful  act,  contrary  to  usage  and  the  Vedas." 
The  princes  plead  as  precedent  the  case  of  a  "  most  excellent  moral 
woman,"  who  dwelt  with  seven  saints,  and  of  Varski,  who  cohabited  with 
ten  brothers  "  whose  souls  had  been  purified  with  penance."  Mayne 
{Hindu  Law  and  Usage,  p.  64)  points  out  that  these  were  bad  precedents, 
being  cases  of  saints  who  were  above  ordinary  laws.  He  adds  that  in  the 
Ramayana  polyandry  is  mentioned  with  abhorrence,  and  sums  up  in 
favour  of  the  view  that  sexual  looseness  rather  than  recognized  polyandry 
is  indicated  (Mayne,  p.  65,  4th  ed.). 

In  Sparta  a  secondary  husband  was  sometimes  tolerated  for  the  sake  of 
increasing  the  family — ol  &v5pes  {^ovXovrat)  aSe\(povs  to7s  iraial  Trpo<T\afj.pdveiv 

oi    TOV  fJI.il>   y4vOVS  KOl  TVJS  SvvdlXfCOS  KOlVaiVOVCTl,  TWV  Se  XPVt^dTWV    OVK   avTiTTotovvrai 

(Xenophon,  Eep.  Lac,  i.  9,  quoted  in  Grote,  Part  II.  chap.  vi.  p.  620). 
Similarly,  among  the  Punans,  a  Borneo  jungle  people  of  very  primitive 
tjrpe,  wives  of  elderly  men  take  a  second  husband  to  obtain  children 
(Hose  and  McDougall,  ii.  185),  and  among  the  Bayaka  in  Africa,  a  childless 
husband  may  introduce  his  brother  in  secret  (Torday  and  Joyce,  J.  A.  I., 
sxxvi.  45). 


136  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

the  two  classes  is  divided  into  four  groups,  and  in  choosing  a 
wife  a  man  is  restricted  to  one  of  these  groups.  How  the  group 
division  is  arrived  at  need  not  concern  us  for  the  present.  The 
point  is  merely  that  there  exists  for  any  given  group  of  men  a 
definite  group  of  women  with  whom  they  may  marry,  and  who 
are  called  their  Nupas.  So  far,  then,  our  result  is  that  there  are 
in  the  tribe  a  group  of  men  and  of  women  who  are  Nupa  to 
each  other — that  is,  potential  husbands  and  wives.  To  come  now 
to  the  actual  marriage,  a  man  will  have  one  or  more  of  his  Nupas 
assigned  to  him  as  his  wives.  He  will  also  have  others  to  whom 
he  is  Piriaungaru — that  is,  he  has  access  to  them  under  certain 
conditions.  Similarly,  a  woman  may  be  Piriaungaru  to  several 
men,  and  lastly,  a  man  may  lend  his  mfe  to  any  of  her  Nupas, 
and  on  the  occasion  of  a  visit,  for  example,  is  expected  as  a  matter 
of  courtesy  and  good  feeling  to  do  so.  Thus  the  husband  has 
only,  so  to  say,  a  preferential  right  in  his  wife,  and  the  wife 
in  the  husband.  The  husband  will  have  a  secondary  right  to 
other  women  as  his  Piriaungaru,  while  his  wives  are  in  turn 
Piriaungaru  to  other  men.^ 

^  In  the  Dieri  tribe  there  is  both  individual  and  group  marriage.  In 
the  latter  case  the  headman  allots  certain  men  and  women  (subject  to  the 
clan  or  totem  restriction)  to  one  another  as  Pirauru,  but  their  rights,  as 
the  different  husbands  and  wives  are  often  members  of  different  local 
groups,  are  exercised  mainly  when  the  groups  meet.  'V^'Tien  they  separate 
the  right  of  the  Noa  or  principaj  husband  predominates  (A.  W.  Howitt, 
The  Organization  of  Australian  Tribes,  Transactions  of  Royal  Society  of 
Victoria,  vol.  i.  Part  II.  pp.  124-147). 

The  custom  of  the  Arunta  and  other  Central  Australian  tribes  is  still 
further  removed  from  a  true  group  marriage,  as  here  there  are  no 
Piriavtngaru.  A  woman  is  restricted  to  one  man  unless  he  lends  her. 
What  suggests  group  marriage,  apart  from  the  nomenclature  of  relation- 
ships, is  (1)  that  the  name  for  wife  is  the  group  name  Unawa,  the  term 
(corresponding  to  Nupa)  applied  to  all  women  of  the  class  with  whom  the 
man  may  lawfully  marry;  (2)  that  wives  are  freely  lent  within  the  group 
and  enjoyed  promiscuously  at  festivals.  How  much  stress  is  to  be  laid  on 
this  is  not  easy  to  determine.  It  is  certain  that  the  class  restrictions  on 
marriage  are  held  much  more  vital  by  most  savages  (whatever  their  marriage 
customs)  than  the  marriage  tie  itself.  Among  the  Australians,  Messrs. 
Spencer  and  Gillen  remark  that  jealousy  is  little  developed,  adultery  is  at 
most  an  infringement  of  rights  of  property  (so  also  among  North  American 
Indians,  see  Waitz,  iii.  131),  wife-lending  is  habitual,  and  divorce  is  easy. 
Under  these  circumstances  the  very  use  of  the  term  marriage  can  only  be 
justified  by  the  diiSculty  of  finding  any  other.  It  is  not  marriage  as  we 
understand  the  relation,  and  the  tie,  whatever  we  call  it,  is  exceedingly 
loose.  On  the  other  hand,  the  taboos  which  mark  out  special  classes  for 
each  other  are  among  the  most  sacred  laws  of  the  tribe.  Generally  speak- 
ing, these  restrictions  are  of  a  negative  character — a  man  must  not  marry 
within  his  totem,  or  his  class,  but  sometimes,  owing  to  the  multiplication 
of  restrictions,  particularly  in  the  form  of  classificatory  relationships  (of 
which  the  Australian  class  divisions  are  really  a  case),  the  result  is  to  confine 
the  intending  spoxxse  to  a  specific  group,     This  group  will  then  consist  of 


MARRIAGE  AND  THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN    137 

Now,  as  it  stands,  this  scheme  of  marriage  may  be  classified  as 
a  form  of  polyandry  combined  with  polygamy,  such  as  we  have 

his  Nupa  or  Unawa,  and  so  it  is  easy  for  him  to  change  his  wife  within  the 
group  and  impossible  for  him  to  take  one  outside  it ;  and  as  this  apphes  to 
all  the  men  and  all  the  women  we  may  say  that  the  two  groups  are  more 
strictly  bound  together  than  any  individuals  within  it,  and  this  we  may,  if 
we  please,  term  group  marriage.  But  the  expression  is  undesirable  imless 
deliberately  intended  to  suggest  the  theory  of  an  earlier  form  in  which  men 
and  women  were  actually  united  by  groups. 

The  importance  of  this  question  lies  in  its  association  with  the  classifi- 
eatory  system  of  counting  kinship.  In  name,  an  Australian  has  not  one 
father,  but  a  group  of  fathers,  i.  e.  all  the  potential  husbands  of  his  mother ; 
not  one  brother,  but  a  group  of  brothers,  i.  e.  all  the  sons  of  his  potential 
fathers,  and  so  on.  This  system  of  names  is  widely  spread,  and  points  to 
some  form  of  social  organization  which  must  have  been  very  prevalent,  if 
not  universal,  at  a  low  stage  of  human  development.  (That  the  system, 
or  rather  systems,  for  they  are  of  many  kinds,  cannot  be  explained 
linguistically  but  must  rest  on  definite  social  relations  between  definite 
individuals  and  groups,  has  been  conclusively  shown  by  Dr.  Rivers  in 
his  Kinship  and  Social  Organization.)  Those  who  uphold  group  marriage 
argue  ( 1 )  that  this  method  of  reckoning  kinship  is  the  only  possible  method 
where  group  marriage  exists,  (2)  that  no  other  satisfactory  explanation  of 
its  origin  and  meaning  has  ever  been  put  forward,  (3)  that  we  can  under- 
stand its  existence  where  individual  marriage  now  prevails  if  we  suppose 
group  marriage  to  have  existed  previously.  As  to  this  argimient  it  may 
be  said  (o)  that  the  expression  group  marriage  is  misleading.  At  most  we 
may  contemplate  marital  relations  as  restricted  to  the  members  of  two 
classes,  and  within  the  right  class,  rights  of  access  verging  upon  com- 
munism, (b)  There  is  no  evidence,  nor  is  it  probable,  that  such  limita- 
tions arise  by  restriction  of  a  still  more  primitive  communism.  The  more 
probable  suggestion  is  that  they  are  a  modified  form  of  exogamy  (cp. 
Rivers,  op.  cit.,  pp.  70,  71).  Given  the  avoidance  of  the  nearest  kin  in 
marriage,  the  very  simplest  society  involves  at  least  two  intermarrying 
families,  A  and  B.  By  our  nnethods  of  reckoning  kinship  and  permitting 
the  intermarriage  of  any  cousins,  these  two  families  would  become  inter- 
twined, and  would,  in  fact,  form  one  kindred.  But  suppose  descent 
reckoned  through  one  parent,  e.  g.  through  the  mother  only,  and  marriage 
forbidden  to  all  the  maternal  kin.  Then  the  daughters  of  family  A  remain 
of  the  kindred  A,  and  must  marry  the  sons  of  B,  and  so  it  will  be  to  the 
end  of  time.  If  other  families,  C  and  D,  join  the  group,  the  young  men 
and  maidens  will  find  favour  in  one  another's  eyes,  and  the  old  men  will 
have  to  find  a  way  of  regularizing  relations.  If  some  forcible  young  man 
of  moiety  A  has  carried  off  a  damsel  of  family  C,  it  would  legitimize  the 
proceedi'  t  to  rank  the  females  of  family  C  with  moiety  B  for  marriage 
piu-poses.  Tlius  it  might  come  about  that  moieties  extend  beyond 
recognizable  kinship.  Further,  in  the  family  group  we  often  find  that  a 
particular  cousin  is  the  appropriate  mate,  e.  g.  the  mother's  brother's 
daughter.  All  mothers'  brothers'  daughters,  in  fact,  form  a  class  within 
which  the  bride  should  be  sought  by  every  one  of  the  group  of  their  fathers' 
sisters'  sons.  This  is  already  a  rudimentary  class  arrangement  of  marriage. 
Once  again,  suppose  the  group  to  be  enlarged  by  the  accession  of  a  fresh 
family,  and  the  young  men  to  take  wives  among  them.  To  regularize 
these  marriages  it  will  be  necessary  to  rank  these  wives  as  of  the  same 
class  as  the  cousins  who  were  the  appropriate  partners  for  these  young 
men.  Then  the  sair^e  prohibitions  and  the  same  obligations  will  apply 
to  parents  of  these  brides  as  to  parents  of  the  bride  originally  designated- 


138  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

already  met  with  among  the  Nairs,  ordy  compHcated  by  the 
taboos  which  Hmit  the  intercourse  of  the  sexes  to  the  two  groups 
which  are  Nupa  to  each  other.  It  is  possible  to  explain  the 
system  as  the  relic  of  earlier  customs  where  the  two  Nupa 
groups  were  actually  married  to  each  other,  so  that  intercourse 
between  them  would  be  promiscuous.  Tliis,  however,  is  an 
inference  as  to  the  probabihty  of  which  others  must  determine. 
What  we  actually  find  is  not  this  marriage  of  two  groups,  but 
exceedingly  loose  relations,  polygamous  and  polyandrous,  within 
the  groups,  combined  with  strict  taboo  outside  them. 

Where  the  marital  relation  becomes  very  loose  we  approach 
promiscuity,  or  the  sheer  negation  of  marriage,  as  between  all 
who  are  not  separated  from  each  other  by  any  taboo.  If  such 
taboos  also  fail,  we  get  complete  promiscuity.  Does  this  exist  ? 
Dr.  Westermarck^  enumerates  some  thirty-one  cases  in  which 
it  has  been  alleged.  But  in  the  majority  of  these  it  is  also 
denied  by  other  authorities,  and  in  several  the  allegation  is 
known  to  be  false.  There  remain  a  number  of  cases  in  which 
the  marital  relation  is  so  loose  that  the  husband  sinks  into  the 
position  of  a  lover,  temporarily  visiting  the  woman's  house  and 
readily  dismissed  at  will.  Sheer  promiscuity  is  probably  to  be 
regarded  rather  as  the  extreme  of  looseness  in  the  sexual  relation 
than  as  a  positive  institution  supported  by  social  sanctions.^ 

We  thus  get  a  class  of  potential  wives  and  husbands,  who  are  not  necessarily 
blood-cousins,  but  who  would  number  blood-cousins  among  them.  The 
parents  of  the  potential  wives  would  be  potential  parents-in-law  and  would 
enjoy  the  respect  or  exercise  the  rights  of  such.  The  restriction  of  marriage 
to  the  single  class  would  be  a  consequence  of  the  original  rule  of  cousin 
marriage.  It  would  be  not  a  new  restriction  but  an  enlargement  of  the 
rule  that  a  man  should  marry  one  of  his  mother's  brother's  daughters,  by 
constituting  a  class  standing  in  the  relation  of  mothers'  brothers'  daughters 
to  the  class  of  the  man  himself. 

Cases  in  which  a  man  marries  his  wife's  sisters,  or  possibly  certain  other 
relatives,  along  with  her  are  partial  developments  of  polygamy  rather 
than  group  marriages,  and  the  institution  of  the  Omaha,  quoted  by  Kohler 
(Z.  /.  V.  R.,  1897,  p.  320)  as  a  case  of  group  marriage,  where  a  man  marries 
the  aunt  or  sister  or  niece  of  his  wife,  while  on  his  death  the  widows  pass 
to  his  brothers,  is  a  combination  of  this  form  of  polygamy  with  the  levirate. 

1  Westermarck,  pp.  62-55. 

^  The  statement  of  Herodotus  about  the  Massagetse  (Book  I.  chap, 
ccxvi.)  and  of  Cosmas  of  Prague  (eleventh  century  a.d.)  about  the  ancient 
Bohemians  are  reducible  to  this.  Cosmas  writes,  "  Connubia  erant  com- 
munia.  Nam  more  pecudum  singulas  ad  noctes  novos  probant  hymenseos, 
et  surgente  aurora  .  .  .  ferrea  amoris  rumpunt  vineula "  (Kovalevsky, 
Modem  Customs  and  Ancient  Laws  of  Russia,  p.  10).  Post  gives  as  instances 
of  peoples  among  whom  "  marriage  relations  are  almost  unrecognizable," 
tribes  of  California  and  the  coast  of  Veneziiela,  aborigines  of  Brazil  and  some 
Peruvian  tribes,  six  instances  in  Oceania,  three  in  India,  and  four  in  Africa 
(Ethn.  Jurisprudem,  i.  62).  He  adds  further  instances,  making  seven  in 
all  for  Africa  {Afrik.  Juris.,  p.  301).     Among  the  Wintuns  of  California, 


MARRIAGE  AND  THE  POSITION  OF   WOMEN    139 

4.  The  looser  types  of  marriage  are  almost,  if  not  entirely, 
confined  to  savage  and  barbarous  races.  It  is  here,  if  anywhere, 
that  we  find  promiscuity  and  group  marriage.  It  is  here, 
certainly,  that  we  find  the  marital  relationship  so  loose  as  to 
approach  promiscuity  and  group  marriage.  It  is  here  also  that 
we  find  polyandry — a  custom  practised  by  no  people  with  any 
pretension  to  civilization  except  the  Thibetans  and  the  ancient 
Spartans.  Polygamy,  on  the  other  hand,  while  also  very  common 
among  uncivilized  peoples,  may  be  said  to  dominate  the  middle 
civilizations,  and  monogamy  the  higher.  But  here  we  must 
distinguish.  Polygamy  may  occur  as  a  regular  rule,  limited 
only  by  the  number  of  women  available  or  by  a  man's  means  of 
maintaining  them.  Or  it  may  be  rare  though  quite  permissible. 
Often  it  is  limited  to  chiefs,  nobles,  or  rich  men,  and  in  general, 
unless  the  numbers  of  the  sexes  are  very  unequal,  the  majority  of 
men  wiU  be  found  at  any  time  living  with  one  wife.  In  asking, 
then,  whether  polygamy  prevails  among  a  people,  we  must  decide 
whether  we  are  inquiring  into  the  permission  of  polygamy  or 
into  the  actual  extent  to  which  it  is  practised.  From  the  ethical 
point  of  view  the  former  is  the  more  important  question,  and  it 
is  clear  that  monogamy  can  only  be  said  to  be  strict  customary 
law  when  polygamy  is  not  only  rare,  but  definitely  forbidden. 
With  these  distinctions  in  view  we  made  three  divisions — of 
peoples  where  monogamy  is  regular,  those  where  polygamy  is 
occasional  (being  either  restricted  to  a  class  or  allowed  only  on 
conditions,^  or  being  in  actual  fact  rare  *),  and  those  where  it  is 
general,  i.  e.  unrestricted  in  principle  and  in  practice  frequent. 
We  then  find  that  the  permission  of  polygamy — that  is,  the  two 
cases  of  general  and  occasional  polygamy  combined,  preponderate 
heavily  in  all  the  lower  economic  grades,  but  there  are  from  10  to 

according  to  Powers,  a  man  generally  pays  nothing  for  his  wife,  but  merely 
"  takes  up  with  her."  If  (not  being  a  headman)  he  takes  a  second  wife, 
the  two  wives  fight  till  one  is  driven  out,  while  the  husband  looks  on 
and  abides  in  the  lodge  of  the  conqueror  or  follows  the  vanquished  aa 
he  chooses  (Tribes  of  California,  p.  238).  Can  this  relation  be  called 
marriage  ? 

^  e.  g.  among  the  Santals  a  second  wife  is  only  taken  in  case  of  sterility 
and  with  the  first  wife's  consent  (Risley,  616).  Kohler  states  that  poly- 
gamy is  only  allowed  with  the  consent  of  the  first  wife  among  some  Papuan 
tribes  (Z.  f.  V.  R.,  1900,  p.  349). 

^  We  make  this  entry,  e.  g.  where  we  have  statements  such  as  the 
following :  Polygamy  permitted  but  not  usual  (Barea  and  Kunama — 
Mmizinger,  Ostafrikansche  Studien,  p.  524).  The  chief  is  referred  to  aa 
having  several  wives,  but  no  other  information  is  given  (Wafipa,  Thompson, 
ii.  220).  The  men  mostly  have  ono  wife  (The  Sereres  at  Fadiouth,  cf. 
R.  d'Ethn.,  ii.  15).  Polygamy  exceptional  (Takue,  Munzinger,  p.  209). 
One  wife  is  usual  (Korwa,  Crooke,  iii.  324). 


140  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

20  per  cent,  of  cases  in  each  grade  where  monogamy  is  the  rule, 
with  the  exception  of  the  Pastoral  peoples,  among  whom  we  only 
found  one  case,^  and  of  the  Higher  Hunters,  where  the  proportion 
fell  to  6  per  cent.  On  the  other  hand,  the  practice  of  polygamy  as 
measured  by  the  number  of  instances  which  we  class  as  "  general  " 
extends  almost  continuously  from  the  lowest  Hunters  upwards." 
This  bears  out  the  view  that,  as  a  practice,  polygamy  is  mainly  a 
matter  of  wealth.  As  an  admitted  custom,  however,  it  may  be 
said  to  be  prevalent,  though  not  universal,  throughout  the  un- 
civihzed  world.  The  only  definite  group  of  cases  in  which  mono- 
gamy as  strict  custom  preponderates  is  that  of  the  jungle  peoples 
of  Asia  and  some  of  the  corresponding  tribes  of  Africa.  Thus  the 
wild  Semang  are  monogamous,^  the  Sakai  perhaps  so,^  the  Veddas^ 
and  Andamanese  ^  strictly.  The  Punans  are  not  monogamous 
since  they  admit  polyandry,  but  hold  to  monogjmy  except  in 
marriage  with  other  tribes.'  In  Africa  we  hear  the  same  of  some 
of  the  Pigmy  people.*  The  rule,  however,  is  not  universal. 
The  majority  of  the  African  Pigmies  would  seem  to  have  been 
polygamous  or  to  have  made  little  of  marriage.  The  Kubus, 
even  in  the  wild  condition,  are  stated  to  have  allowed  polygamy, 
though,  perhaps,  rarely  practising  it,®  and  some  of  the  Negritos 
practised  concubinage.  As  far  as  we  get  any  account  rendered 
of  the  reason,  it  is  economic.  Thus,  the  Orang  Bukitof  Sungei 
Ujong  have  but  one  wife,  but,  according  to  Mr.  F.  W.  Knocker, 
see  no  objection,  except  the  difficulty  of  providing  for  them,  to 
having  two  or  three .^^  Similarly  of  the  "  tame  "  Semang,  Messrs. 
Annandale  and  Robinson  write  that  they  usually  practise  mono- 
gamy for  economic  reasons .^^  Indeed,  those  of  these  peoples  who 
have  come  under  Malay  influence  and  taken  to  a  rude  agriculture, 
have  in  many  cases  also  accepted  polygamy.  In  any  case  it 
would  be  a  mistake  to  base  any  large  conclusions  on  this  partial 
tendency  to  monogamy.     The  forest  tribes,  though  economically 

^  The  Tobas,  a  South  American  hunting  people,  who  have  acquired  cattle 
from  the  Spaniards. 

^  There  is  a  drop  in  the  lowest  stage  of  agriculture,  and  the  two  pastoral 
Btag(>s  are  above  the  corresponding  agricultural  grades. 

^  Martin,  p.  864.  Martin,  it  should  be  said,  denies  that  their  monogamy 
is  due  to  lack  of  passion  and  attributes  it  to  self-restraint.  Wilkinson,  on 
the  other  hand,  allows  the  Semang  much  less  moral  feeling. 

*  But  cf.  Skeat  and  Blagden,  ii.  p.  56.        "  Seligmann,  p.  87. 

«  E.  G.  Man,  J.  A.  I.,  xii.  p.  135.  '  Hose  and  McDougall,  ii.  183. 

^  "The  Batuas  of  Lake  Tanganyika"  (Hutereau,  Annales  III,  i.  3), 
the  "Wambuti  of  Ituri  "  (David,  Globus,  1904,  p.  196).  On  the  other  hand, 
Johnston  finds  conditioned  polygamy,  and  a  very  frail  tie  verging  upon 
promiscuity  {Grenfell  and  the  Congo,  p.  674 ;    Uganda  Protectorate,  p.  639). 

»  Hagen,  p.  133.  i«  J.  A.  I.,  xxxvii.  293. 

11  J.  A.  I.,  xxxii.  417,  etc. 


MARRIAGE  AND  THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN    141 

very  primitive,  are  formed,  as  may  be  seen,  by  a  special  and 
rather  severe  selection.  They  are  the  residue  of  those  who  have 
been  driven  further  and  further  into  the  wilds  by  the  pressure 
of  stronger  races  or  better  organized  communities,  and  their 
temperament  and  mode  of  life  must  be  specially  adapted  to  suit 
their  particular  circumstances,  and  as  such  is  marked  by  gentle- 
ness, shjTiess,  and  timidity  rather  than  by  strength  of  passion. 
Possibly  these  causes  have  co-operated  with  the  economic  factor 
to  secure  among  many  of  them  a  relatively  favourable  position 
for  women,  and,  amongst  other  things,  monogamous  marriage. 
Amongst  other  Lower  Hunters  polygamy  is  permitted  and  the 
general  position  of  women  is  unfavourable.  Tliis  is  true  in 
general  of  the  Australians,  the  Fuegians,  the  Bushmen,  the 
Botocudos,  and  the  Lower  and  Central  Cahfornian  tribes,  as  well 
as  of  many  other  North  and  South  American  Indians,  who  are 
but  little  above  the  Lower  Hunters  in  economic  standing.  We 
cannot  associate  any  tendency  to  monogamy  with  the  lowest 
culture,  but  only  a  partial  tendency  to  monogyny  (combined  in 
an  important  group  with  the  recognition  of  polyandry)  in  one 
particular  development  of  that  culture.  In  general  terms,  then, 
we  may  say  that  the  permission  of  polygamy  is  the  rule  in  all 
grades  of  the  uncivilized  world,  but  in  so  doing  we  must  dis- 
tinguish between  polygamy  as  a  permitted  custom  and  as  a 
general  practice ;  and  between  an  ethical  monogamy  based  on  the 
behef  that  it  is  wrong  to  have  more  than  one  wife,  and  an  habitual 
monogamy  based  on  the  practical  difficulty  of  obtaining  and 
maintaining  more  than  one  wife.^  Polyandry,  on  the  other  hand, 
is  by  comparison  an  exceptional  practice,  the  principal  causes  of 

^  Travellers  and  ethnologists  sometimes  describe  people  as  monogamous 
who,  in  fact,  are  so  only  by  prevailing  habit.  The  Iroquois,  for  instance, 
always  figmre  among  monogamous  peoples,  and  no  doubt  that  form  of 
marriage  prevailed  among  them  and  became  the  strict  rule.  Thus,  Morgan 
(League  of  the  Iroquois,  p.  324)  states  that  polygamy  was  forbidden  and 
never  became  a  practice,  but  from  Coldan's  account  given  in  Schoolcraft's 
work  (i.  221),  it  appears  that  it  existed,  though  rarely  practised  in  his  time. 
Repeatedly  we  hear  that  the  mass  of  the  people  are  monogamous,  but  that 
the  chiefs  or  the  wealthier  tribesmen  have  several  wives  or  concubines. 
This  was  the  case  with  the  ancient  Germans.  Polygamy  was  rare  in  practice 
but  was  legal.  Wlien,  owing  to  general  poverty  and  the  equality  of  con- 
ditions— which  would  bar  the  making  of  exceptions  in  favour  of  rich  men 
or  chiefs — the  practice  of  monogamy  has  become  universal  and  as  such  is 
of  long  standing,  it  would  harden  into  custom,  and  acquire  the  sanctity 
that  custom  possesses  among  simple  peoples.  As  such  we  find  it  in  all 
our  grades  except  the  pastoral,  which,  perhaps  on  account  of  the  lowered 
industrial  value,  seems  particularly  conducive  to  a  proprietary  view  of 
woman.  Meanwhile,  with  the  development  of  wealth,  the  practice  of 
polygamy  extends  and  prepares  us  for  its  importance  in  the  lower  and  middle 
civilizationis. 


142  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

which  are  most  probably  poverty  and  a  deficiency  in  the  number 
of  women.  On  the  evidence  before  us  it  is  hardly  to  be  described 
as  an  institution  belonging  to  one  of  the  great  types  of  social 
organization. 

5.  II.  Impediments  io  3Iarriage. 

A  quite  distinct  classification  of  marriage  systems  could  be 
made  on  the  basis  of  the  prohibitions  which  almost  everywhere 
restrict,  in  greater  or  less  degree,  the  choice  of  a  husband  or 
wife.  These  prohibitions  exhibit  a  rich  variety  of  differences, 
and  their  meaning  and  origin  are  extremely  obscure.  We  have 
already  noted  that  they  fall  into  two  great  divisions.  On  the 
one  hand,  there  are  restrictions  forbidding  marriage  within  a 
certain  group — laws  of  exogamy ;  on  the  other,  and  quite  possibly 
among  the  same  people,  there  are  rules  forbidding  it  outside  a 
certain  group — laws  of  endogamy.  Both  kinds  of  restriction 
appear  in  a  great  variety  of  forms.  Thus,  endogamy  may  take 
the  form  of  prohibition  to  marry  outside  the  clan,  as  in  old  days 
among  the  gypsies,^  or  the  caste  as  in  India,  or  even  the  family. 
In  the  ancient  world  foreigners  could  rarely  intermarry  unless 
their  respective  states  had  the  jus  connubii,  and  there  were  gener- 
ally barriers  on  the  intermarriage  of  slave  or  serf  with  free  men 
or  women,  and  a  social,  if  not  a  legal,  bar  on  the  marriage  of 
noble  and  commoner.  In  the  modern  world  legal  barriers  have 
for  the  most  part  disappeared,  and,  socially  speaking,  equahty  in 
education  alone  is  exacted,^  Far  more  various  and  difficult  to 
understand  are  the  rules  of  exogamy.  Marriage  may  be  forbidden 
within  the  totem,  as  among  many  North  American  Indians  and 
some  Austrahan  tribes ;  within  the  clan,  as  among  the  Bahima  ^ 
and  Somali,*  etc. ;  within  the  village,  as  among  the  Battas  ^ ; 
or  the  tribe,  as  in  Rotuma.^  It  may  also  be  prohibited  within 
the  kindred,  and  here  again  great  differences  appear.    All  the 

1  Post,  Grundriss,  i.  33.  See  ib.  for  several  instances  in  which  it  is  the 
duty  of  relations  to  marry.  I  am  not  clear  that  it  is  distinctly  forbidden 
to  marry  another  than  a  relation. 

*  There  are  exceptions,  such  as  the  prohibition  of  marriage  with  negroes 
in  twenty-two  of  the  United  States,  with  Indians  in  four  states,  with 
Mongolians  in  four  states  (Parly.  Papers,  Miscell.,  No.  2,  1894,  p.  155). 
Otherwise  the  intermarrying  of  royal  families  is  the  principal  exception. 
In  the  German  code  the  marriage  of  a  high  noble  with  a  commoner  involves 
certain  disabilities  (Westermarck,  373). 

3  Torday  and  Joyce,  J.  A.  I.,  xxxvii.  p.  105. 

'-  Post,  A.  J.,  i.  383. 

5  Waitz,  V.  i.  186. 

"  Gardiner,  J.  A.  I.,  xxvii.  478.  There  appear  to  be  sporadic  cases  of 
prohibition  within  the  same  caste,  or  the  same  religious  division  (see  Post, 
Grundriss,  i.  41). 


MARRIAGE  AND  THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN    143 

kindred,  so  far  as  relationship  is  traceable,  may  be  prohibited, 
as  among  the  Andamanese  and  the  Yoruba,^  Or  the  prohibition 
may  be  appHed  to  all  the  kin  on  that  side  to  which  the  greater 
importance  is  attached,  as  in  the  Brahmanic  and  Chinese  pro- 
hibitions.2  Where  relationships  are  of  the  "  classificatory  "  type, 
e.  g.  where  the  mother  and  all  her  sisters  are  addressed  by  the 
same  name,  while  the  daughters  of  all  that  group  of  women,  again, 
have  one  form  of  address  in  common,  the  prohibition  of  marriage 
may  extend  to  all  members  of  the  group,  and  society  will  divide 
itself  into  classes  within  which  a  man  may  marry,  and  classes 
within  which  the  women  are  strictly  taboo  to  him.  This  class 
division  of  society  runs  through  the  Austrahan  peoples.^  Again, 
kinship  may  be  reckoned  by  degrees,  as  among  ourselves,  and 
exogamy  may  be  enjoined  for  certain  degrees  only,  while  beyond 
them  marriage  is  permitted.  In  point  of  fact,  under  one  rule  or 
another,  prohibition  of  marriage  within  the  first  and  second 
degrees  (parent  and  child,  or  brother  and  sister)  is  almost  uni- 
versal, if  we  take  account  only  of  the  basis  of  relationship  recog- 
nized by  any  given  people.  Thus,  if  the  totem  is  exogamous, 
and  passes  by  mother-right,  all  kindred  through  the  mother  will 
be  excluded  from  marriage,  but  brother  and  sister  by  the  same 
father  will  be  no  relations,  and  may  intermarry.  Indeed,  if  the 
principle  is  carried  to  its  logical  conclusion,  the  same  will  be 
true  of  father  and  daughter.  On  the  other  hand,  the  totemic 
prohibition  may  be  eked  out  by  a  custom  forbidding  or  dis- 
couraging the  marriage  of  near  relations  as  such.  Thus,  in 
New  Britain  we  are  told  that  though  legally  a  man  may  marry 
his  brother's  daughter,  since  she  is  not  of  his  totem,  yet  in  point 
of  fact  such  unions  excite  great  repugnance.*  Apart  from  cases 
in  which  kinship  is  only  reckoned  on  one  side,  so  that  inter- 
marriage is  allowed  within  the  half-blood,  the  permission  of 
incest  within  the  nearest  degree  appears  very  rare.  Indeed, 
with  this  reservation  we  may  say  that  the  nearer  the  relation- 
ship (counting  that  of  the  son  to  his  mother  as  closer  than  that 

^  Man,  J.  A.  I.,  xii.  126.  Ellis,  Yoruba-speaking  Peoples,  p.  176.  The 
Andamanese  recognize  adoption  and  aflSnity  as  bars,  but,  through  want  of 
records,  fail  to  trace  kinship  beyond  the  third  generation  (Man,  J.  A.  I., 
xii.  127). 

-  See  chap.  ii.  p.  52.  If  the  clan  is  based  on  father-right,  it  will  be 
seen  that  the  prohibition  to  marry  an  agnate  is,  at  least  in  theory,  equivalent 
to  prohibition  of  marriage  within  the  clan.  Identity  of  name,  again,  is 
taken  as  equivalent  to  common  membership  of  a  putative  clan. 

^  Among  fifty-three  peoples  examined  by  Tylor,  who  count  relationship 
on  the  classificatory  system,  thirty-three  are  at  present  exogamous 
(J.  A.  I.,  xviii.  264).      . 

*  Danks,  J.  A.  J.,  xviii.  283. 


144  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

of  daughter  to  father),  the  rarer  is  the  failure  to  prohibit.*  Such 
failure  probably  occurs  most  often  in  consequence  of  a  strongly 
endogamous  tendency,  in  the  form  of  a  desire  to  maintain  purity 
of  blood.  Hence  we  find  cases  of  in-and-in  breeding  among 
royal  families,  e.  g.  in  ancient  Persia  and  Egypt,  and  among 
high  castes,  as  the  Ulitaos  of  Micronesia. ^  But  the  prohibitions 
may  be  carried  far  beyond  the  first  and  second  degrees.  The 
Roman  Church  still  forbids  marriage  to  third  cousins,  and  the 
attempt  was  made  to  carry  it  much  further.  Again,  affinity 
may  or  may  not  rank  with  relationship.  In  many  cases  a 
son  inherits  his  father's  wives,  with  the  exception  of  his  own 
mother,  along  with  the  rest  of  the  family  property.  We  find 
the  Jewish  legislators  and,  later,  Mohammed,  setting  themselves 
against  this  practice.  On  the  other  side,  rules  of  affinity  may 
be  construed  as  severely  as  those  of  blood  relationship.  On  this 
method  an  immense  extension  of  the  forbidden  degrees  was 
effected  by  the  mediaeval  church, ^  M'hich  was  still  further  widened 
by  the  creation  of  a  spiritual  affinity  between  god-parents  of  the 
same  child.  The  effect  of  this  complex  mass  of  prohibitions  was 
such  that  hardly  any  marriage  was  clearly  valid,  while  dispensa- 
tions were  and  still  are  attainable  allowing  unions  even  between 
uncle  and  niece.  Protestantism  swept  away  this  mass  of  pro- 
liibitions,  and  for  the  most  part  allowed  marriage  of  first  cousins, 
and  confined  the  restrictions  of  affinity  to  the  direct  line.* 

Of  these  very  various  rules  it  seems  possible  to  say  three 
tilings  generally.  The  first  is  that  they  tend  to  bar  marriage 
between  people  who  are  bound  together  by  some  other  important 
relation.  Thus  the  totem  or  the  clan,  which  is  exogamous,  is  also 
as  a  rule  bound  in  a  kind  of  brotherhood  to  mutual  assistance. 
Secondly,  the  particular  relation  which  is  the  commonest  bar 

^  The  marriage  of  father  and  daughter,  as  well  as  that  of  brother  and 
sister,  is  said  to  be  allowed  among  the  Aleuts  (Reclus,  65).  According  to 
Post  {a.  J.,  i.  382),  there  is  no  case  in  which  incest  with  a  mother  is  allowed 
in  Africa,  but  among  the  Wanyoro,  sister  and  even  daughter  marriage 
occur.  Incest  between  parents  and  children  is  also  found  in  some  South 
American  tribes  (Starcke,  The  Primitive  Family,  224.  Cf.  Schmidt, 
Z.  f.  V.  R.,  1898,  p.  304). 

'"  Sister  marriage  was  common  in  ancient  Egypt  (W.  Max  Miiller, 
Liebespoesie  der  alten  ^gypten,  pp.  7-8,  and  Waitz,  v.  ii.  111).  For  other 
instances,  see  Westermarck,  290. 

^  See  Huth,  Marriage  of  Near  Kin,  117.  Huth  {op.  cit.,  120)  instances 
the  repudiation  of  Ingeburga  of  Denmark  by  Philip  Augustus,  on  the  ground 
that  she  belonged  to  a  family  which  had  previously  intermarried  with  the 
family  of  Philip's  first  wife.  It  is  fair  to  say  that  in  this  instance  the  Pope 
procured  Ingeburga's  restoration. 

*  The  English  prohibition  of  marriage  with  the  wife's  sister  was  the  most 
conspicuous  exception. 


MARRIAGE  AND  THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN    145 

is  that  based  on  blood  kinship.  Thirdly,  the  violation  of  the 
rules  of  exogamy,  whatever  they  are,  is  generally  regarded  with 
pecuhar  horror.  It  is  often  an  object  of  public  vengeance  when 
no  other  crimes,  except,  perhaps,  that  of  witchcraft,  have  been 
raised  to  that  dignity,  and  in  the  civihzed  world  the  intensity  of 
feeHng  which  it  excites  in  no  way  diminishes. 

6.  Notwithstanding  the  great  variation  in  the  forms  which  it 
takes,  the  exogamic  impulse  seems  to  perform  certain  functions 
which  are  fairly  constant.  Thus  (1)  it  checks  in-and-in  breed- 
ing, barring  intermarriage  "v^ith  near  kin  and  often,  in  the 
lower  races,  within  the  narrow  limits  of  the  clan  or  village, 
which  in  their  isolation  would  otherwise  become  entirely  filled 
-with  people  related  to  one  another  by  a  network  of  cousinship. 
What,  precisely,  are  the  physical  disadvantages  of  in-and-in 
breeding  or  the  advantages  of  crossing  is,  however,  harder  to 
say  than  is  popularly  supposed,  and  it  is  probable  that  this  bio- 
logical side  of  the  matter  is  the  least  important  of  the  functions 
served  by  exogamy .^  But  (2),  as  indicated  above  (chap,  ii.), 
it  has  the  important  sociological  function  of  binding  distinct 
groups  together.  (3)  A  third  function  of  more  importance  in 
the  civilized  world  is  of  a  distinctively  ethical  character.  Fol 
us  the  prohibition  of  incest  is  the  only  form  of  exogamy  which 
persists,  and  incest  is  a  crime  which  affects  us  with,  a  horror,  of 
the  Idnd  we  call  instinctive,  and  which  is  certainly  not  weaker 
in  civilized  than  in  barbarous  humanity.  What  is  the  meaning 
of  this  horror  ?  It  is  too  real  and  deeply  rooted  to  be  explained 
as  a  survival.  It  is  not  based  on  tradition  and  convention,  for 
it  is  not  felt  in  relation  to  many  crimes  which  the  laws  forbid. 
Thus,  among  peoples  who  accept  the  law  of  the  Roman  Church, 
the  marriage  of  cousins  is  forbidden,  but  frequently  occurs.  In 
our  own  country  men  may  approve  or  condemn  marriage  with  a 
deceased  wife's  sister,  but  any  one  who  should  put  it  on  a  par 
vntli  incest  with  a  blood-sister  would  be  a  very  abnormally  con- 
stituted person.  Is  the  horror,  then,  of  incest  instinctive  ?  The 
usual  objections  to  this  view  are  based  on  a  misunderstanding  of 
instinct.  It  is  said  that  the  horror  is  not  universal,  and  that 
the  objects  to  which  it  is  directed  differ  widely  in  different 
peoples.  But  many  instincts  in  the  animal  kingdom  fail  in 
universahty  and  are  modifiable  in  their  application.  And,  as 
we  have  seen,  what  is  instinctive  or  hereditary  in  human  nature 
becomes  more  and  more  a  feature  of  character,  a  tendency  or 
disposition  to  feel  or  act  which  obtains  its  actual  direction  from 

^  See  the  evidence,  especially  that  of  Mr.  G.  H.  Darwin,  collected  in 
Huth's  Marriage  of  Near  Kin,  chap.  viii. 
J- 


146  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

experience,  and  especially  from  education  and  social  tradition. 
So  far  as  such  tendencies  are  to  be  explained  it  must  be  by  showing 
the  function  which  they  serve,  and  the  physical  or  psychical 
mechanism  on  wliich  they  rest.  The  function  v/hich  the  horror 
of  incest  performs  has  been,  in  early  stages,  to  bring  and  keep 
famihes  together  in  society,  and  at  all  stages  to  maintain  distinct, 
and  therefore  in  healthy  development,  the  deepest  affections  of 
mankind.  As  to  its  basis,  it  is  quite  possible  that  there  is  an 
element  of  physical  repulsion  at  the  core,  but,  apart  from  this, 
there  are  psychological  factors  on  wliich  contemporary  investiga- 
tions of  character  throw  some  light.  A  sentiment  is  regarded  as 
a  system  of  emotions  and  ideas  clustering  about  some  object, 
and  organized  on  hnes  of  its  own.  If  two  distinct  sentiments, 
as  the  parental  and  the  sexual,  come  to  bear  upon  the  same  object 
there  is  a  collision  between  them,  and  the  repulsion  is  felt  as  an 
emotional  stress.  In  society  the  normal  sentiment  would  have 
the  upper  hand,  and  its  repugnance  for  the  abnormal  would 
reinforce  the  emotion  in  the  individual,  and  would  add  (in  this 
case)  the  shame  of  bringing  social  disgrace  on  one  of  his  own  kin. 
But  rehgious  ideas  or  social  arrangements,  worldng  on  the  re- 
pugnances between  the  parental  and  the  sexual  as  a  nucleus, 
might  extend  it  to  all  eases  which  it  classed  uith  the  parental, 
and  the  current  association  would  be  reflected  under  ordinary 
conditions  in  the  individual  consciousness.  Thus,  rules  of  exo- 
gamy will  naturally  vary  in  accorda^nce  with  the  basis  of  kinship 
and  of  such  Active  kinship  as  that  of  the  totem.  But  they  will 
vary  around  the  parental,  and  more  particularly  the  maternal, 
relation  as  a  centre.  The  relation  of  the  child  to  its  mother  is 
the  first  strongly  reahzed,  and  remains  throughout  history  the 
most  sacred  of  human  relations.  Hence  it  is  that  cases  where 
breaches  of  that  relation  are  tolerated  are  the  rarest  of  all.  We 
may  take  this  relation  as  the  starting  point  of  the  prohibitions, 
and  then  bear  in  mind  tha.t  it  is  all  in  accordance  with  the  ways 
of  primitive  thought  to  extend  them  to  everjiihing  indirectly 
or  remotely  associated  with  the  tabooed  relation — e.  g.  to  the 
mother's  children,  her  relatives,  all  of  her  totem  or  her  name. 
The  father  may  come  into  the  account  independently  through 
the  recognition  of  paternity  or  through  contact  with  the  mother, 
and  starting  from  the  paternal  relation  the  taboo  may  be  extended 
in  the  same  way.  The  eccentricities  of  exogamy,  then,  are  ex- 
plained as  arising  (1)  from  an  unduly  extended  taboo,  (2)  from 
an  insuiKciently  felt  recognition  of  natural  relations.  These  are 
the  ordinary  faults  of  excess  and  defect  which  characterize  rude 
morality,  and  are,  on  the  whole,  removed  as  c'^^'Uzation  advances. 


MARRIAGE  AND  THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN    147 

Thus,  in  earlier  customs  we  find  rules  of  endogamy  restricting 
marriage  by  clan  or  caste  exclusiveness,  and  of  exogamy  restrict- 
ing it  by  rules  bearing  an  indirect  or  irregular  relation  to  the 
natural  feehng  which  we  are  led  to  conceive  as  their  starting 
point.  In  more  civihzed  ethics  we  find  the  first  set  of  restric- 
tions nearly  annihilated,  and  the  latter  reduced  to  a  simple 
expression  of  the  permanent  feehngs  from  wliich  we  suppose 
them  to  emanate.  In  both  directions  the  more  civilized  ethics 
tends  to  discard  rules  which  hamper  the  free  exercise  of  choice 
in  accordance  with  normal  human  feehng. 

7.  III.  The  Stability  of  the  Marriage  Relation. 

Not  less  important  than  the  number  of  parties  to  the  union 
is  the  permanence  of  the  marriage  tie,  and  on  this  basis  it  would 
be  easy  to  make  a  classification  cutting  right  across  all  others. 
In  many  of  the  lower  races,  as  we  have  already  seen,  the  dis- 
solution of  marriage  is  so  easy  and  frequent  that  it  becomes  a 
question  whether  the  term  marriage  is  at  all  apphcable.  In 
other  cases  the  marriage  bond  is  as  strictly  regarded  as  in  the 
Roman  Church.  Here,  again,  we  cannot  find  a  continuous  and 
unbroken  development  in  any  single  direction,  but  once  more 
we  can  with  tolerable  accuracy  lay  down  that  certain  tendencies 
predominate  at  given  stages  of  culture.  This  will  be  clear  if 
once  again  we  begin  by  distinguishing  the  different  possibilities, 
and  then  briefly  indicate  the  stage  of  culture  at  which  each  is 
or  has  been  most  frequently  reahzed. 

Divorce  may  (1)  be  perfectly  free  to  either  party;  (2)  it  may 
be  free  to  both  by  mutual  consent ;  (3)  it  may  be  absolutely  at 
the  will  of  the  husband  or  (4)  of  the  wife.  Next,  (5)  it  may  be 
free  to  one  party  or  both  on  obtaining  the  consent  of  the  family, 
the  clan,  or  a  court ;  (6)  it  may  be  open  to  either  party  on  certain 
conditions.  These  conditions  are  infinitely  various,  but  we  ought 
to  distinguish,  as  cases  differing  in  principle,  (a)  those  in  which 
the  only  condition  is  of  the  nature  of  a  fine,  usually  taking 
the  form  of  forfeiture  of  do-«Ty  or  the  restoration  of  the  bride 
price,  and  (6)  those  in  wliich  the  essential  condition  is  some 
fault  or  defect  in  the  other  party  to  the  marriage.^  Further,  (c) 
it  may  be  open  on  the  same  conditions  to  man  and  wife,  or  {d) 
on  different  conditions.  Very  often,  in  fact,  it  is  free  to  the 
husband  and  allowed  under  conditions  to  the  wife.     (7)  It  may 

^  Not  infrequently  divorce  is  free  only  when  the  marriage  is  childless. 
Thus,  among  the  Natchez,  it  was  at  the  will  of  the  husband  till  a  child  was 
bom,  after  which  there  was  no  divorce  (Le  Petit,  in  the  Jesuit  Relations, 
vol.  Ixviii.  p.  143). 


148  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

be  wholly  forbidden,  marriage  being  indissoluble.  In  this  latter 
case  a  separation  a  mensa  ct  toro  is  usually  allowed,  but  sometimes 
this,  too,  is  forbidden. 

Marriage  is  indissoluble  among  the  Andamans,  some  Papuans 
of  New  Guinea,  at  Watubela,  at  Lampong  in  Sumatra,  among 
the  Igorrotes  and  Italones  of  the  Philippines,  the  Veddahs  of 
Ceylon,^  the  Ges  of  Brazil, ^  and  in  the  Pomish  Church. 

Ordinarily,  hoAVever,  both  in  the  civihzed  and  uncivilized 
world  marriage  may  be  dissolved  either  at  pleasure  or  under 
certain  conditions.  Among  uncivihzed  peoples  divorce  is  not 
infrequently  free  to  either  party.  The  man  dismisses  his  wife 
without  ceremony,  or  the  discontented  or  injured  woman  leaves 
her  husband's  house  without  more  ado  and  runs  back  to  her  own 
relations,^  or  they  part  by  mutual  agreement.*  In  the  higher 
stages  of  barbarism  and  in  primitive  civilization  the  consolidation 
of  the  family  under  the  growing  power  of  the  husband  tends 
to  make  divorce  rarer  and  more  difficult.  Sometimes  it  drops 
almost  entirely  out  of  use.  Thus  it  was  a  Roman  boast  that, 
though  divorce  was  not  legally  impossible,  before  the  case  of 
Sp.  Carvilius  Ruga  in  231  B.C.  no  instance  had  been  known  since 
the  foundation  of  the  city.  Sometimes,  with  less  justice,  the 
power  of  divorce  is  left  to  the  husband  and  withheld  from  the 
wife.  It  may  even  remain  entirely  at  the  husband's  pleasure  to 
send  back  the  chattel  which  he  has  bought.  Thus  the  Hebrew 
who  found  anything  unseemly  in  his  wife  merely  gave  her  a 
writing  of  divorcement  and  had  done  with  her.  In  other  cases 
there  was  at  least  a  pecuniary  deterrent.  The  divorcing  husband 
forfeited  the  dowry,  or,  if  the  fault  was  his,  could  not  regain  the 
bride  price.  He  had  to  leave  his  wife  all  the  gifts  he  had  made  to 
her,  or,  finally,  if  she  had  no  such  property  of  her  own,  he  had 
to  pay  a  definite  sum.  Again,  if  there  were  children,  provision 
might  be  made  for  their  maintenance,  or  the  right  of  divorce 
itself  might  in  this  case  be  withdrawn.^  Similarly,  where  the 
wife  has  the  right  of  divorce,  she  may  incur  pecuniary  forfeits, 
losing  her  dowry,  or  having  to  repay  the  bride  price  and  return 
the  presents  made  at  or  during  marriage. 

1  I  take  the  foregoing  from  Dr.  Westermarck's  list,  p.  617.  He  quotes 
Wilken'a  opinion  that  the  same  held  good  of  the  Niasians  and  Bataks. 

^  von  Martiios,  i.  290. 

8  Sometimes  it  is  a  condition  that  she  returns  the  price  paid  for  her,  e.  g. 
in  Souhmana  and  frequently  in  Africa  (Howard,  i.  226).  In  other  cases 
she  leaves  at  will,  e.  g.  among  the  Bakairi  (von  der  Steinen,  p.  332). 

*  This  Post  considers  to  be  the  rule  under  the  clan  organization  of  society 
(Post,  Orundriss,  ii.  117). 

5  c.  g.  according  to  Post  {A.  J.,  i.  434),  among  the  Moorish  tribes  of  the 
Sahara  and  the  Hottentots. 


MARRIAGE  AND  THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN    U^ 

Such  pecuniary  penalties  render  marriage  relatively  stable  ;  but 
a  further  step  is  taken  when  it  is  dissoluble  only  under  assigned 
conditions.  These,  again,  show  extraordinary  variations.  The 
husband  is  generally  able  to  divorce  the  ^vife  for  unfaithful- 
ness, very  often  for  sterility,  and  sometimes  ^  because  she  bears 
no  sons ;  often,  too,  for  disobedience,  bodily  defects,  or  what  are 
considered  moral  faihngs.  The  wife,  again,  often  has  the  right 
of  leaving  the  husband  in  case  of  neglect,  desertion,  impotence, 
or  cruelty — more  rarely  in  case  of  unfaithfulness.  As  a  rule, 
the  divorced  husband  may  marry  again,  but  it  is  not  always  that 
the  divorced  wife  has  this  right,  especially  under  the  system 
of  marriage  by  purchase.  Sometimes  she  is  wholly  prohibited 
from  marrying ;  sometimes  she  must  refrain  till  she  has  the  leave 
of  her  former  lord  and  master. 

The  customs  of  savage  and  unciviHzed  peoples  as  to  divorce 
vary  in  such  "wild  profusion  that  it  is  very  difficult  to  make  any 
general  statement  with  regard  to  them.  It  may,  however,  be 
said  that,  with  the  few  exceptions  mentioned,  divorce  is  allowed; 
that  it  is  generally  free  to  the  husband  on  easy  terms,  and  very 
often  also  to  the  wife,  or  to  the  two  parties  by  mutual  agree- 
ment,^  but  is  sometimes  restricted  to  special  cases,  and  that  the 
development  of  the  patriarchate,  and  particularly  of  marriage 
by  purchase,^  tended  to  increase  the  privileges  of  the  husband 
as  compared  with  those  of  the  wife  in  this  relation.* 

^  e.  g.  in  Biirmah  (Post,  Grundriss,  ii.  1 14). 

*  In  comparing  the  position  of  husband  and  wife,  it  must  be  borne  in  mind 
that  divorce  almost  universally  sets  the  husband  free  to  marry  again,  while 
the  wife,  in  a  large  number  of  cases,  especially  under  marriage  by  purchase, 
is  more  or  less  narrowly  restricted  in  this  respect,  so  that,  for  her,  divorce 
rather  corresponds  to  what  we  call  separation  (Howard,  A  History  of 
Matrimonial  Institutions,  i.  244,  245). 

^  Howard  (i.  231)  notes  the  influence  of  wife-purchase  in  this  direction. 

*  Divorce  among  Savages. — Divorce  is  apparently  either  quite  free  or 
open  on  very  easy  terms  to  either  party  among  many  North  American 
Indians  (Columbians,  Howard,  i.  238 ;  Iroquois,  Schoolcraft- Drake, 
i.  221;  Upper  Californians  and  Innuit,  Kohler,  Z.  f.  V.  R.,  1897,  p.  368). 
Among  the  Yiu-oks  divorce  is  very  easily  accomplished  at  the  will  of  the 
husband  (Powers,  p.  56).  In  this  last  case  the  husband  regains  the  bride 
price.  It  is  free  to  both  parties  among  the  Eskimo  of  Point  Barrow  and 
of  Behring  Straits  and  Pawnees  (Howard,  i.  227,  228).  Among  other 
tribes  it  is  at  the  pleasure  of  the  husband ;  [so  stated  of  the  North  American 
Indian  generally  (Schoolcraft,  i.  171);  of  the  Oregons  (ib.,  v.  G54) ;  of  the 
Hupa  (Powers,  p.  85) — here  the  displeased  husband  gets  back  the  bride 
price;  of  the  Dakota  (Howard,  i.  232);  and  the  Abipones  (ib.).  In  the 
last  case,  however,  it  may  lead  to  a  feud].  Among  other  peoples  the  man 
must  lose  the  bride  price  if  he  divorces  without  good  cause  (Thlinkeets, 
Kohler,  loc.  cit.).  In  some  the  wife  can  leave  at  pleasure.  The  Navajo 
women  are  said  by  Colonel  Eaton  (Schoolcraft,  iv.  217)  to  leave  their 
husbands  on  the  slightest  pretext.  Among  the  Digger  Indians  the  wife 
leaves  the  husband  at  pleasiue  {ib.,  223).     Among  the  Cegiha  the  wife's 


150  MORALS   IN   EVOLUTION 

In  order  to  classify  the  different  customs  as  far  as  such  great 
diversities  allow,  we  bring  under  the  head  of  Divorce  at  will  cases 

relations  take  her  away  if  ill-treated  (Howard,  228),  and  the  Sioux  and 
Dakota  women  leave  their  husbands  for  unfaithfulness  or  other  causes. 
Among  the  Upper  Californians  the  deserted  husband  demands  the  return 
of  the  bride  price.  In  the  later  form  of  marriage  among  the  Creeks  the 
bond  holds  for  a  year  only. 

Among  some  tribes  of  tropical  South  America  the  power  of  the  husband  is 
more  developed,  and  he  can  lend,  give,  prostitute,  sell,  or  exchange  his  wife 
at  pleasure  (Schmidt,  loc.  cit.,  1898,  p.  297).  In  Brazil,  according  to 
Anchieta  (quoted  in  Howard,  p.  228),  the  wife  may  leave  at  pleasure.  So 
among  the  Moxos  (ib.,  239).  The  Bonak,  Guanan,  and  Guatamalan  women 
have  similar  freedom  (authorities  cited  by  Howard,  p.  239). 

In  Oceania  divorce  is  generally  easy,  though  there  are  one  or  two  cases  in 
which  it  appears  to  be  unknown.  In  Polynesia  divorce  by  mutual  consent 
is  lawful  (Howard,  p.  230).  A  Tongan  husband  divorces  his  wife  by 
simply  telling  her  to  go  {ib.,  p.  231).  In  Micronesia  divorce  is  at  the 
man's  pleasure,  and  the  same  is  true  of  the  Papuan  peoples,  among  whom  the 
woman,  if  she  flies,  must  return  the  bride  price,  while  the  husband,  if  in 
earnest  about  it,  can  generally  reclaim  her  from  her  relatives  by  the  terrors 
of  witchcraft  (Kohler,  Z.  f.  'V.  R.,  1900,  p.  347).  In  the  Torres  Straits 
divorce  appears  to  have  been  rare.  Infidelity  and  sterility  were  the  chief 
causes,  but  incompatibility  of  temper  appears  to  have  been  recognized  as 
sufficient  (Cambridge  Expedition,  p.  240).  Among  some  Australians,  as 
the  Euahlaja,  the  husband  might  send  the  wife  back  to  her  relations,  and 
reclaim  her  child  when  old  enough,  while,  if  ill-treated,  her  relations  might 
take  her  away  (Mrs.  Parker,  p.  58).  In  the  Boulia  District  a  wife  given 
to  a  man  by  the  camp  council  could  only  be  divorced  with  her  consent 
(Roth,  p.  181).  In  Western  Victoria  couples  may  separate  by  mutual  con- 
sent, but  the  husband  wishing  to  divorce  his  wife  must  obtain  the  consent 
of  the  chief  men  of  his  own  and  his  wife's  tribe.  She  may  also  complain 
of  his  vmfaithfulness  and  get  him  sent  away  for  two  or  three  moons 
(DawsOn,  Aiistralian  Aborigines,  quoted  by  Howard,  pp.  229,  230). 

In  Africa  divorce  at  the  will  of  the  hvisband  is  general  (Post,  A.  J.,  i.  433). 
The  corresponding  right  of  the  wife  is  rarer,  but  not  infrequent.  Some  sixteen 
cases  are  enumerated  by  Post  (Afrik.  Jurisp.,  p.  436),  but  some  of  them  are 
doubtful,  or  depend  on  special  conditions.  Among  the  Fantis,  Foulahs,  and 
Kaffirs  (Post,  A.  J.,  p.  438),  and  in  Kordofan  and  Baka  (Post,  A.  J.,  p.  439), 
the  neglect  or  ill-treatment  of  the  wife  are  good  grounds  of  divorce.  Among 
the  Bogos  her  third  flight  is  taken  as  final  (Post,  A.  J.,  p.  437).  In  many 
tribes  the  wife  can  be  divorced  for  sterility  (Post,  A.  J.,  p.  439),  and  among 
the  Kimbundas  the  husband  can  be  divorced  for  impotence  (Post,  A.  J., 
p.  441).  Among  the  Mundombe  divorce  is  rare,  only  occurring  when,  after 
two  years,  there  is  no  child  (Magyar,  p.  23).  Among  the  Mayonibe  it  re- 
quires the  consent  of  the  wife's  father  (Overburgh,  p.  254).  In  many  cases 
compensation  must  be  given  by  the  party  which  dissolves  the  marriage,  e.  g. 
among  the  Foulahs  and  the  Kaffirs  for  groundless  repudiation.  In  Bornu 
the  wife  retains  her  dowry  (Post,  A.  J.,  pp.  442-443).  Among  the  Banyars 
she  receives  a  small  sum  and  retains  all  the  presents  she  has  received 
(Post,  A.  J.,  p.  442).  Among  the  Basutos,  uiiless  guilty  of  an  offence,  she 
is  entitled  to  support  (Post,  A.  J.,  p.  442).  In  Eg3-pt  she  can  also  claim 
a  certain  provision,  and  in  Abyssinia  she  can  claim  her  dowry  as  well 
(Post,  A.  J.,  p.  442).  Among  the  Bogos  she  takes  the  household  utensils 
with  her,  among  the  Barea  and  Kuneanashe  has  half  the  joint  property, 
and  in  Morocco  a  sum  awarded  by  the  judge  (Post,  A.  J.,  pp.  442,  443). 
If  the  woman  leaves  the  man,  her  family  must  return  the  bride  price,  and 
perhaps  more.     But  the  question  of  compensation  is  very  naturally  affected 


MARRIAGE  AND  THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN    151 

in  which  (1)  either  party  is  free  to  dissolve  the  union,  or  (2)  are 
subject  to  no  check  except  the  necessity  of  repaying  the  bride 

by  the  circumstances  of  the  divorce.  If  the  divorcing  party  has  good 
grounds  he  or  she  pays  less,  or  perhaps  pays  nothing.  Thus,  among  the 
Kaffirs,  Foulahs,  Fantis,  and  in  Kordofan  the  wife  does  not  restore  the 
bride  price  if  she  has  good  grounds  for  leaving  her  husband  (Post,  A.  J., 
p.  445).  Among  the  Beni  Amer,  if  it  is  the  man  who  divorces,  the  woman's 
property  is  divided,  the  husband  taking  his  weapons,  and  the  wife  the 
house  and  contents.  If  the  woman  divorces  the  man  for  ill-treatment  or 
infidelity,  she  gets  only  one-third  of  the  common  stock ;  if  impotence  is  the 
cause  she  gets  half  (Post,  A.  J.,  p.  446). 

Among  the  Yoruba  (where  father-right  holds)  the  husband  can  divorce 
the  wife  and  reclaim  the  bride  price  if  she  is  unfaithful ;  otherwise  he 
loses  the  price.  If  he  neglects  the  wife,  she  summons  a  palaver  of  her 
relatives,  and  if  he  persists,  she  may  leave  him.  If  he  is  of  inferior  rank 
he  is  liable  to  be  flogged  by  her  relations  (Ellis,  Yoruba  Peoples,  p.  187). 
Under  mother-right,  where  the  woman  is  not  bought  out  of  her  family, 
the  children  often  follow  the  mother  in  case  of  divorce.  But  this  is  not 
always  the  case,  and  sometimes  the  circumstances  of  the  divorce  determine 
the  children's  future  (Post,  A.  J.,  p.  447). 

No  obstacle  is  offered  to  the  re-marriage  of  the  man,  but  under  marriage 
by  purchase  the  husband  generally  retains  some  control  over  the  divorced 
wife.  Among  the  Hottentots  and  Ashantis  she  cannot  re-marry ;  among  the 
Banguns,  not  in  the  same  village ;  among  the  Kafiirs,  only  if  she  had  good 
grounds  for  leaving  her  husband ;  among  the  Marea  and  the  Habub,  not 
till  her  husband  declares  her  free.  But  in  many  cases  (Post,  A.  J.,  p.  450, 
enumerates  eight)  apparently  after  a  certain  interval  she  is  free  to  re-marry. 

On  the  whole,  throughout  Africa,  marriage  by  purchase  prevails,  and  the 
position  of  the  wife  is  accordingly  less  favourable. 

Among  tlie  Indian  Hill  tribes  the  variations  are  great.  The  Nair  wife 
may  not  only  dismiss  any  of  her  twelve  husbands  at  pleasure,  but  may  even 
let  him  be  sold  into  slavery  for  debt  (Reclus,  Primitive  Folk,  p.  158). 
Often  divorce  is  free  to  either  party.  Instances  are  the  Todas,  Bodo 
and  Dhimals  (but  here  an  adulteress  mxist  refund  the  bride  price),  and  the 
Karens.  Among  the  Badagas  the  wife  may  leave  if  she  pleases,  but  the 
husband  retains  the  children.  He  is  also  free  to  divorce  her  (Reclus, 
op.  cit.,  p.  195).  Among  the  Nagas  there  is  a  fine  according  to  the  cause 
of  the  divorce  (Godden,  J.  A.  I.,  xxvi.  177).  Among  the  Santals  divorce 
is  rare,  but  is  permitted  to  either  party  on  obtaining  the  consent  of 
the  husband's  clan.  Among  the  Khonds  the  wife  may  leave  the  husband 
on  repaj'ing  the  bride  price.  (In  some  tribes  this  privilege  is  restricted  to 
the  childless.)  On  the  other  hand,  she  can  be  divorced  only  for  adultery 
or  prolonged  misconduct,  and  her  consent  is  required  if  the  husband  wishes 
to  take  a  concubine  (Reclus,  p.  280) ;  and,  a  rare  note  in  the  savage  world, 
infidelity  on  the  part  of  the  man  is  held  dishonourable. 

Among  the  peoples  of  Central  Asia  divorce  appears  to  be  open  to  the 
man  at  pleasure  and  to  the  woman  for  persistent  ill-treatment  (Ratzel, 
vol.  iii.  p.  342;   Letourneau,  La  Femme,  p.  210). 

Among  the  Malays,  divorce  is  greatly  influenced  by  the  form  of  marriage. 
In'  the  Ambil  Anak  marriage  the  wife  may  divorce  the  husband.  In  the 
Djudjur  marriage  all  the  advantage  is  on  his  side,  but  she  can  generally 
escape  from  him  if  ill-treated.  In  the  Semando  form  of  marriage  (see 
Waitz,  V.  145)  the  taking  of  a  second  wife  or  concubine  is  a  ground  of 
divorce,  and  in  one  place  (Mokomoko)  this  is  the  only  form  recognized 
(Waitz,  V.  145,  etc.).  Among  the  Battaks  of  East  Sumatra  there  is  no  one- 
sided divorce,  except  for  attempt  to  murder,  and  mutual  agreement  ia 
required  (Howard,  p.  229). 


152  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

price,  or  (3)  marriage  may  be  dissolved  by  mutual  consent. 
Next  we  put  together  those  in  which  divorce  is  free  to  the  husband 
though  either  denied  to  the  wife  or  open  to  her  only  on  condiiionf;. 
Next  are  those  in  which  it  is  open  to  the  wife  but  not  to  the 
husband.^  Then  there  are  those  in  which  it  is  conditioned  in 
various  ways,  and,  finally,  those  in  which  it  is  indissoluble.  In 
upwards  of  270  cases  we  found  ^  the  following  percentage  for  each 
class — 

Divorce  by  consent  or  at  will  of  either  party.        .  '48 

At  will  of  husband '23 

At  will  of  wife -007 

Conditioned '24 

Marriage  indissoluble '04 

These  proportions  were  pretty  evenly  distributed  among  the 
diflferent  grades,  except  the  Higher  Hunters,  where  the  two  first 
classes  account  for  86  per  cent,  of  the  whole.  If  we  add  these 
classes  together  in  the  above  table  as  representing  the  unstable 
form  of  marriage,  we  see  that  they  account  for  71  per  cent,  of 
the  whole,  and  as  the  lowest  figure  we  get  for  any  grade  is  '625 
in  the  Higher  Pastoral,  where  the  number  of  instances  is  very 
small,  we  seem  justified  in  saying  (1)  that,  roughly,  in  seven 
peoples  out  of  ten,  marriage  in  the  unciviHzed  world  can  be 
dissolved  at  the  %vill  either  of  one  partner  or  of  both ;  (2)  that 
this  relation  is  roughly  constant  from  the  lowest  to  the  highest 
economic  grades  within  these  limits.  Thus,  in  the  unciviHzed 
world,  the  marital  relation  is  more  often  than  not  a  loose  tie, 
undone  with  relative  ease. 

8.  IV.  Further  light  is  thrown  on  the  structure  of  the  family 
by  the  methods  of  arranging  a  marriage.  These  may  be  grouped 
under  the  following  heads — 

a.  Capture. 

6.  Consideration  rendered  for  the  bride. 

c.  Consent  of  the  parties. 

^  We  only  found  two  cases  under  this  head.  Sometimes  we  are  only 
told  explicitly  that  the  wife  may  leave,  but  we  presume  from  the  general 
account  of  the  husband's  position  that  his  cotmtervailing  right  is  so  clear 
as  not  to  have  needed  statement  (see,  e.  g.  Latcham  on  the  Araucanians, 
J.  A.  I.,  xxxix.  359).  Among  the  Irulas,  however,  Harkaess  states  that 
divorce  was  mainly  at  the  option  of  the  wife  (Thurston,  s.  v.  Irulas,  vol.  ii. 
p.  379). 

S  Simpler  Peoples,  p.  164. 


MARRIAGE  AND  THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN    153 

A  few  v.'ords  may  be  said  here  of  the  general  character  of  these 
methods,  while  their  bearing  upon  the  marriage  relation  will  be 
further  discussed  in  the  foUowdng  section. 

a.  Marriage  by  capture  is  a  somewhat  ambiguous  term.  The 
practice  of  taking  women  captives  in  war  or  in  petty  raids  is 
widely  diffused  over  the  savage  world.  In  the  genuine  and 
unadulterated  form  of  carrjdng  off  a  bride  from  a  strange  tribe 
against  her  will  and  that  of  her  relations,  it  occurs,  according  to 
Professor  Tyler,  in  some  forty  cases.^  From  this  genuine  capture 
Professor  Tyler  distinguishes  connubial  and  formal  capture. 
Connubial  capture  is  not  a  mere  form,  but  is  a  recognized 
method  of  obtaining  a  bride  between  famihes  living  at  peace 
with  one  another,  and  is  not  regarded  as  a  sufficient  ground  of 
quarrel.  Of  this  Professor  Tylor  finds  forty-six  cases.^  Finally, 
he  enumerates  forty-four  casss  in  wliich  the  form  of  capture  is 
retained  without  the  reality  as  part  of  the  wedding  ceremony. 
One  illustration  vvill  suffice  :  "  Among  the  Bedouin  of  Sinai 
the  bridegroom  seizes  the  woman  whom  he  has  legally  pur- 
chased, drags  her  into  his  father's  tent,  hfts  her,  violently 
struggling,  upon  his  camel,  holds  her  fast  while  he  bears  her 
away,  a.nd  finally  pulls  her  forcibly  into  his  house,  though  her 
powerful  resistance  may  be  the  occasion  of  serious  wounds."  ^ 
In  other  cases  the  resista,nce  is  less  determined,  and  the  form 
of  capture  is  reduced  to  a  mere  symbolical  act.  The  wide 
prevalence  of  these  forms  led  McLennan  and  others  to  the 
behef  that  capture  was  originally  universal ;  but  this  opinion 
is  now  abandoned.  Capture,  as  we  shall  see  further,  is  incom- 
patible in  principle  with  the  widely-diffused  primitive  system 
of  mother-right,  and  its  existence  as  a  form  may  be  explained 
in  many  instances  by  the  necessity  of  a  symbolic  act  to  express 
appropriation.  The  symbol,  in  fact,  is  not  necessarily  a  survival 
of  something  more  real,  but  may  be  rather  a  legal  expression  of 
the  character  of  the  act  performed. 

b.  Consideration   rendered. — The    more    ordinary    method    of 

^  As  an  incident  of  savage  warfare  it  is  probably  more  frequent.  A  long 
list  of  instances  of  the  practice  is  given  in  Howard,  vol.  i.  p.  158.  From 
Cape  Horn  to  Hudson's  Bay  women  are  regarded  as  legitimate  booty.  The 
practice  of  capture  prevails  throughout  Melanesia,  has  existed  throughout 
Tasmania,  New  Zealand,  Samoa,  New  Guinea,  among  the  Fiji  Islanders, 
the  Indian  Archipelago,  and  to  a  limited  extent  in  Australia;  it  is  found 
occasionally  in  Africa,  and  in  various  ancient  nations. 

*  In  435  peoples  of  whose  forms  of  marriage  we  obtained  information, 
we  found  only  forty-one  cases  in  all  of  capture  as  a  reality,  and  many  of 
these  were  oiily  "  occasional  "  or  partial  cases  {Simpler  Societies,  p.  154). 
But  see  previous  note. 

^  Howard,  i.    165  166. 


154  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

obtaining  a  bride  is  in  one  way  or  another  to  pay  for  her.  (1)  In 
many  cases  the  payment  is  a  true  purchase.  Where  this  method 
is  fully  developed  the  unmarried  girl  is  not  her  own  mistress. 
She  is  one  of  the  family ;  more,  she  is  the  property  of  the  family 
or  of  the  family's  representative — the  governing  male,  her  father, 
brother,  guardian,  whoever  he  may  be.  She  is  an  asset  of  a 
certain  value  to  the  family,  the  amount  depending  partly  on 
her  attractiveness,  partly  on  her  labour,  partly  on  the  scarcity 
of  the  article.  This  article  can  be  sold  for  so  much,  and  the 
purchaser  naturally  becomes  wholly  possessed  of  what  he 
buys.^ 

(2)  But  in  many  instances  the  transaction  is  of  a  less  com- 
mercial character  and  more  fitting  to  the  dignity  of  the  bride. 
Gifts  are  made  to  the  bride's  parents,  but  they  are  regarded 
rather  as  compensation  ^  for  the  loss  of  a  member  of  their  house- 
hold than  as  a  price  by  which  the  husband  acquires  the  rights  of 
an  owner.' 

(3)  The  gifts  of  the  husband  or  his  family  may  be  balanced  by 
return  gifts,  which  may  equal  or  even  exceed  the  original  gifts 
in  value.*  It  is  sometimes  assumed  that  this  exchange  is  a 
modification  of  purchase,  and  that  it  is  through  the  increase  of 
the  return  gift  that  the  opposite  practice  of  the  do\^Ty  arises.  It 
is  equally  possible  that  the  exchange  of  presents  arises  inde- 
pendently in  connection  with  marriage  by  free  consent  of  the 
parties  as  a  method  of  cementing  the  union  of  the  two  famiHes. 
We  may  call  this  system  one  of  the  exchange  of  presents,^  but 
in  the  concrete  it  is  often  hard  to  draw  the  line  between  it  and 
the  previous  class,  where  such  complimentary  presents  are  often 
made  in  return.  Wherever  gifts  of  serious  value  are  exchanged, 
it  must  be  admitted  that  the  whole  proceeding  bears  something 
of  the  character  of  a  commercial  transaction,  in  which  the  girl, 

^  It  should  be  noted,  however,  that  the  system  may  be  greatly  modified 
by  the  usage  of  assigning  the  price  to  the  woman  as  her  own  property,  as 
in  Mohammedan  countries  (R.  Smith,  Kinship,  etc.,  2nd  edition,  p.  121. 
Cf.  Cook,  Moses  and  Hammurabi,  p.  83). 

^  e.  g.  among  the  Bushongo  we  are  told  that  a  bride  is  not  bought,  but 
it  is  conceived  just  that  compensation  should  be  given  for  her.  Her  consent 
is  necessary  (Torday  and  Joyce,  Annates,  Serie  III.  p.  11). 

'  These  gifts  to  the  parents  may  coincide  with  the  actual  arrangement  ot 
the  marriage  by  free  courtship,  as  among  the  Omaha  (Dorsey,  R.  B.  E., 
iii.  260). 

*  Among  the  Wambugwe  the  suitor  sends  the  bride's  father  an  ox,  but 
he,  if  he  agrees  to  the  niarriage,  endows  her  with  oxen,  so  that  the  dowry 
exceeds  the  bride  price  if  it  is  to  be  so  called  (Baumann,  Massailand,  p.  187). 

^  Again,  the  present  may  be  very  trivial,  e.  g.  among  the  Watatura  it 
consists  of  a  pot  of  honey  (Baumann,  Massailand,  p.  172).  We  should 
regard  this  as  merely  a  compliinent. 


MARRIAGE  AND  THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN    155 

so  to  say,  is  an  item  on  one  side  of  the  account.^  This  is  especially 
the  case  if  it  is  clear  that  the  bride's  family  get  the  more  valuable 
presents. 2 

(4)  Service. — Where  the  husband  is  not  able  to  pay  for  the 
wife  he  sometimes  receives  her  on  credit,  and  in  default  of  the 
possibility  of  payment  may  work  out  his  debt  in  the  form  of 
service.  This  practice  is  familiar  to  us  from  the  case  of  Jacob, 
and  is  found  to  this  day  in  many  parts  of  the  world.^  In  this 
case  the  husband  enters  the  wife's  family  for  the  period  of  his 
service,  which,  being  concluded,  he  returns  to  his  own  people  and 
sets  up  house  on  his  own  account.  But  while  residing  with  his 
wife's  relations  the  husband  is  rather  a  tolerated  visitor  than  the 
lord  and  master  of  his  own  family.  Indeed,  he  is  but  partially 
tolerated,  for  this  residence  in  the  wife's  home  is  frequently 
associated  with  the  taboo  separating  the  husband  from  the 
wife's  relations.  They  are  bound  to  mutual  avoidance  because, 
as  being  generally  members  of  separate  totems  or  clans,  they  are 
in  theory  enemies.  On  the  other  hand,  when  the  service  is  com- 
pleted and  Jacob  has  led  Leah  and  Rachel  to  his  own  home, 
his  authority  is  vindicated  and  he  has  whatever  rights  the 
custom  of  the  tribe  allows.  The  sustaining  cause  of  this  form  of 
marriage  appears  to  be  principally  economic.  Tlie  man  serves 
because  he  has  not  the  property  to  buy  a  wife,  and  so  we  find 
marriage  by  service  existing  side  by  side  with  marriage  by 
purchase.* 

(5)  Exchange. — By  the  side  of  the  exchange  of  gifts,  wliich  we 
ought,  on  the  whole,  to  rule  out  of  the  cases  of  "  consideration," 

1  In  the  Torres  Straits,  apparently  the  gifts  are  ultimately  balanced  by 
return  presents,  yet  the  transaction  seems  to  retain  a  commercial  character. 
The  chief  Maino  told  Dr.  Haddon  that  he  paid  for  his  wife  a  camphor-wood 
chest  with  seven  bolts  of  calico,  one  dozen  shirts,  one  dozen  singlets,  one 
dozen  trousers,  one  dozen  handkerchiefs,  two  dozen  tomahawks,  one  dozen 
hooks,  two  fish-lines,  one  long  fish  spear,  one  pound  of  tobacco,  two  pearl 
shells,  and  "  by  golly,  he  too  dear  !  "  (Cambridge  Expedition,  p.  231). 

^  e.  g.  among  the  Wambugwe  (Baumann,  Massailand,  p.  187). 

^  In  Africa  among  the  Quoja,  Fantis,  Banyai,  Edeyahs,  and  in  Futatoro, 
also  among  the  Zulus  and  Basuto.  It  is  found  in  North  America  among  the 
Aleuts  and  other  Indian  tribes ;  in  South  America  among  the  Brazilians ; 
and  in  the  backward  tribes  of  Asia  among  the  Nagas  of  Assam,  the  Kookis, 
and  among  other  hill  tribes,  also  among  the  Tunguses,  the  Ainu,  the 
Kamchadeles,  and  the  aborigines  of  China ;  among  the  Dyaks  and  some  of 
the  Philippines,  and  here  and  there  in  Oceania  (Westermarck,  Human 
Marriage,  390;  and  Post,  A.  J.,  i.  378). 

*  Among  the  Yurok  in  California  the  purchase  money  might  be  only 
half  paid,  and  the  husband  then  would  enter  the  wife's  tent  in  a 
semi-servile  position.  This  would  only  be  accepted  by  "  soft  "  fellows 
(Powers,  p.  56).  We  find  <*.  simiKr  half 'inari'iage  among  Hie  Hupa 
(Goddard,  i.  p.  56). 


156  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

we  have  frequently  a  much  less  dignified  transaction  in  which 
one  girl  is  exchanged  for  another.  Thus  A,  marrying  B's  sister, 
must  give  B  his  own  sister  in  exchange.  This  is  particularly 
common  among  the  Austrahans,  where  it  often  provided  a  satis- 
factory conclusion  to  an  elopement.^ 

c.  Consent. — In  all  grades  of  culture  the  human  factor  has  its 
say  in  the  arrangement  of  marriage,  and  in  some  cases  the  agree- 
ment of  the  parties  is  sufficient  to  determine  a  union.  Even 
where  capture  or  purchase  is  developed,  this  factor  cannot  be 
wholly  eliminated.  A  pair  who  are  determined  on  having  each 
other  will  settle  all  questions  of  right,  in  the  savage  as  in  the 
civiHzed  world,  by  elopement.  The  actual  influence  of  the 
woman's  wishes  is,  of  course,  often  a  question  of  fact  rather  than 
of  right.  For  example,  all  over  Australia  we  find  elopement  a 
common  method  of  arranging  a  marriage.  The  girl  has  perhaps 
been  betrothed  as  an  infant  to  a  boy  or  even  to  a  man  who,  when 
she  is  ready  to  marry,  will  be  middle-aged.  She  dislikes  him  and 
goes  off  with  a  lover.  Her  relations  and  her  lawful  husband  give 
chase.  A  fight  ensues  and  she  is  more  or  less  severely  beaten. 
She  is  brought  back  and  runs  away  again,  and  then  is  allowed  her 
own  way, 2  or  there  is  a  fight  between  her  lover  and  her  betrothed,* 
or  perhaps  the  lover  lets  her  relations  throw  spears  at  him  or  beat 
him  on  the  head,  and  then  is  allowed  to  keep  her,  giving,  it  may 
be,  a  sister  in  exchange.*  Possibly,  if  the  couple  stayed  away 
for  a  year  or  two  till  a  child  was  born,  nothing  at  all  would  be 
done  to  them.^  In  all  these  cases  abduction  is  illicit,  yet  it  is 
extremely  common,  and  the  punishment  tends  to  resolve  itself 
into  formal  expiation.  In  other  parts  of  the  world  we  hear  of 
elopements  as  being  the  less  honourable  form  of  marriage,  pro- 
priety requiring  that  the  matter  should  be  settled  by  the  parents.^ 
Such  a  view  is  not  unknown  to  civihzed  mankind.  Not  infre- 
quently there  is  child  betrothal,  yet  a  grown-up  girl  may  exercise 

1  Thiis,  at  Encotmter  Bay,  marriage  by  barter  of  female  relatives  was 
the  regular  custom  (W.  Meyer,  in  Woods,  p.  190).  In  Gippsland,  sisters 
were  exchanged  (Buimer,  ap.  Brough  Smyth,  i.  84).  A  girl  who  eloped 
might  be  severely  handled  by  her  brothers,  because  they  lost  thereby  the 
means  of  gaining  a  wife  for  one  of  themselves  (e.  g.  among  the  Wakelbura, 
Howitt,  p.  222).  This  partly  explains  the  compensation  allowed  even  in 
case  of  unlawful  marriage  among  the  Euahlayi  (Mrs.  Parker,  p.  79;  see 
above,  chap.  iii.  p.  90). 

2  e.  g.  in  N.  S.  Wales  (Fraser,  p.  90). 

'  As  among  the  Yerkla-mining  (Howitt,  p.  258). 

'*  As  among  the  Wotjobaluk  (Howitt,  p.  246).  Among  the  Waimbiio 
the  matter  was  settled  by  the  lover  letting  all  her  male  relations  knock  him 
on  the  head  (Buimer,  K.  and  K.,  App.  I.). 

f-  So  among  the  Yuin  (Howitt,  263). 

*  e.  g.  among  the  Omaha  (Dorsey,  op,  cit.,  p.  242). 


MARRIAGE  AND  THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN    157 

choice.^  Marriage  may  be  by  purchase,  and  yet  the  girl's  inclina- 
tion is  not  forced. 2  Thus  the  question  of  consent  is  no  simple 
one.^  Grouping  as  far  as  possible  the  cases  in  Vv'hich  consent 
seemed  in  principle  to  be  required  and  those  in  which  it  might 
often  be  a  factor  but  in  principle  was  not  required,*  we  found 
103  cases  of  the  former  and  81 1  of  the  latter,  and  we  found 
that  the  proportion  in  wliich  consent  was  ignored  was  highest 
among  the  Hunting  and  Pastoral  people,  and  materially  lower 
in  Agricultural  societies.  In  tliis  respect  the  position  of 
women  improves,  so  far  as  our  evidence  goes,  in  passing  from 

1  c.  g.  among  the  Garo  (Dalton,  p.  64),  the  Basonge  Meno  (Annales, 
Series  III.  Tome  2.  pp.  271,  272),  and  the  Tshi  (Elhs,  pp.  282,  285). 

>*  As  it  would  seem  among  the  Santals  (Dalton,  p.  215),  and  the  Munda 
Kols — if  the  gifts  in  this  case  amounted  to  purchase  (Selinghaus,  Z.  f.  Ethn., 
iii.  326),  etc. 

^  Often  the  most  opposite  customs  occur  in  the  same  tribe,  e.  g.  capture, 
purchase  and  choice  by  the  woman  among  the  Digger  Indians  (Schoolcraft, 
iv.  223),  and  this  is  merely  what  the  facts  of  human  nature  would  lead 
us  to  anticipate.  Elopement  and  a  peculiar  form  of  child  betrothal  co-exist 
among  the  Central  Australians,  and  by  way  of  exception  they  also  have 
marriage  by  capture  (Spencer  and  Gillen,  p.  104).  In  the  Marquesas 
Islands,  Letourneau  remarks  that  the  parents'  objections  are  often  overcome 
by  the  pair  decamping  together  (La  Femme,  p.  106).  This  is  a  remedy 
known  to  the  civilized  world  as  well,  but  it  proves  nothing  as  to  law  or 
custom.  Matters  are  more  strictly  defined  among  the  Oregon  Indians, 
where  marriage  is  by  purchase,  and  if,  as  will  happen,  a  runaway  match 
occurs,  the  woman  is  looked  down  on  as  a  prostitute  (Schoolcraft,  v. 
655). 

In  many  cases  child  betrothal  co-exists  with  the  right  of  choice  by  the 
grown-up  woman.  Thus,  among  the  Yoruba,  according  to  Captain  A.  B. 
Ellis  [The  Yoruba- speaking  Peoples,  pp.  183-185),  there  is  child  betrothal, 
but  a  woman  cannot  be  forced  into  marriage  though  she  may  be  prevented 
from  it.  Among  the  Ainu,  Batchelor  (p.  141)  notes  child  betrothal  as  an 
occasional  practice  now  extinct,  marriage  going  now  in  the  main  by  the 
consent  of  the  parties. 

Post  {Afrik.  Jurisp.,  i.  364  and  371),  who  notes  eight  cases  in  Africa 
where  the  bride's  consent  is  required,  remarks  that  practically  the  consent 
of  the  guardians  is  also  necessary,  but  information  is  scanty.  The  Yoruba, 
quoted  above,  would  be  a  case  in  point. 

The  means  of  securing  consent  are  often  sufficiently  savage ;  e.  g.  accord- 
ing to  Post  (loc.  cit.,  p.  363),  the  reluctant  Hottentot  maiden  must  pass  a 
night  with  the  lover  and  become  his  wife  if  he  succeeds  in  ravishing  her. 
Among  the  Mandingos  the  girl  has  the  option  of  remaining  unmarried,  and 
if  ever  given  to  another,  her  first  lover  may  make  her  his  slave. 

A  variant  to  the  ordinary  case  of  the  disposal  of  a  girl  by  her  parents 
occurs  when  a  man  acquires  a  right  to  a  woman  by  his  position.  This 
appears  under  the  Levirate  and  also  in  cases  like  that  of  the  Oregon 
Indians,  where  marrying  an  eldest  daughter  entitles  a  man  to  all  her 
sisters,  even  if  one  of  them  be  already  the  wife  of  another  (Schoolcraft, 
v.  654). 

*  A  difficult  case  to  classify  is  that  of  the  Gonds,  where  elopement 
is  a  recognized  right,  but  a  deserted  lover  may  carry  a  girl  off  by  force 
(Crooke,  vol.  ii.  p.  434).  On  the  balance  we  enter  this  on  the  negative 
side. 


158  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

the  hunting  to  the  agricultural  state,  but  undergoes  a  reaction  in 
the  pastoral. 

In  a  list  of  435  tribes  of  whose  form  of  marriage  we  have  some 
information,  we  find  301^  cases  clear  or  probable  in  which  a 
consideration  is  given  for  the  bride.  We  have  41  cases  of  capture, 
18 J  of  the  exchange  of  presents,  30  in  which  consent  of  the 
parties  is  the  only  factor  mentioned,  51 1  in  which  all  we  have 
learnt  is  that  the  relations  arrange  the  marriage,  and  11  in  which 
we  hear  only  of  some  intervention  on  the  part  of  the  chief  or  the 
old  men  of  the  community.^  In  the  last  two  cases  we  may  assume 
that  our  information  is  incomplete,  and  probably  the  same 
would  be  true  of  many  of  the  30  instances  in  which  consent  is 
the  only  point  specified.  Most  of  the  cases  in  which  relatives 
arrange  the  marriage  would  probably  involve  some  consideration. 
We  shall  be  within  the  mark  if  we  say  that  in  three  cases  out  of 
four  marriage  is  arranged  by  that  method.  But  the  proportion 
increases  as  we  ascend  the  scale,  rising  from  '46  of  all  cases  among 
the  Lower  Hunters  to  "81  among  the  Higher  Agriculturists  and 
•  88  among  the  Higher  Pastoral.  Still  more  marked  is  the  increase 
of  Purchase,  of  which  we  have  219  cases  in  all,  or  just  about  half 
of  the  total,  but  a  proportion  of '  1  only  among  the  Lower  Hunters, 
and  of  "69  in  the  Higher  Agriculture.  The  development  in  the 
Pastoral  peoples  is  again  more  marked,  there  being  16  clear  and 
one  probable  case  out  of  20  in  the  higher  grade.  Thus  "  con- 
sideration "  in  general,  and  purchase  in  particular,  are  modes  of 
obtaining  a  wife  which  begin  in  the  lowest  grade  and  increase, 
as  might  be  expected,  with  the  economic  development,  being 
especially  common  in  pastoral  society. 

9.  V.  Relations  of  husband  and  wife. 

In  the  structure  of  the  family  three  main  types  may  be  desig- 
nated. In  the  first  the  natural  family,  by  which  I  mean  husband, 
wife  and  children,  is  not  complete ;  husband  and  wife  are  not 
united  in  the  sense  in  which  they  become  legally  and  morally 
one  flesh  in  the  higher  forms  of  marriage.  This  form  of  marriage, 
of  course,  corresponds  to  the  maternal  clan  system.  In  the 
second  form  of  marriage  the  natural  family  is  complete,  and 
the  husband  is  the  head ;  but  it  is  completed  at  the  cost  of  the 
greater  subjection  of  the  wife,  who,  in  passing  into  the  husband's 
family,  merges  her  personality  in  his,  often  almost  like  a  slave. 

^  Tlie  figures  exceed  the  total  of  435  because  most  of  the  cases  of  capture 
overlap  others.  The  fractions  express  partial  instances,  and  those  where 
there  is  some  element  of  doubt. 


MARRIAGE  AND  THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN    159 

In  the  third  form  of  marriage  the  union  of  the  family  is  main- 
tained by  the  closest  moral  bond,  but  the  full  legal  and  moral 
personahty  of  the  wife,  as  well  as  of  the  husband,  is  preserved. 
This  third  form  of  marriage  must  be  regarded  as  a  type  or  as  an 
ideal  rather  than  as  an  actuahty.^  To  achieve  it  is  a  problem 
which  civilization  has  yet  to  solve,  since  the  solution  involves  a 
certain  reconciliation  of  contradictories  ;  and  if  we  wish  to  recog- 
nize any  types  of  marriage  as  belonging  to  this  class  we  must 
exercise  a  little  liberality  and  admit  all  such  as  make  a  bona  fide 
efEort  towards  the  solution.  These  efforts  belong,  in  the  main, 
to  the  story  of  civilized  marriage.  We  have  first  to  consider  the 
two  lower  forms,  which  together  dominate  the  uncivilized  world. 
In  the  early  stages  of  liistorical  investigation  into  the  beginnings 
of  civihzation  it  was  thought  that  society  arose  out  of  the  patri- 
archal family,  and  that  in  Abraham,  Isaac  and  Jacob,  or  again 
in  the  Roman  paterfamilias,  as  we  reconstruct  him  from  the  laws 
of  the  XII  Tables  and  what  we  know  of  earHer  Roman  law,  we 
have  a  type  of  primitive  human  government.  The  researches  of 
Bachofen,  McLennan,  Morgan,  and  others  opened  up  an  entirely 
new  field  of  speculation.  It  was  shown  that  the  lower  we  go 
in  the  scale  of  civilization  the  more  prevalent  we  find  a  type  of 
organization  which  is  in  many  ways  the  opposite  of  patriarchal, 
putting  the  mother  for  many  purposes  into  the  father's  position. 
Amongst  civihzed  nations  which  have  passed  out  of  this  stage 
we  find  indubitable  traces  of  their  having  gone  through  it  at 
an  earlier  period.  These  observations  led  to  the  setting  up  of  a 
matriarchal,  as  opposed  to  the  patriarchal  theory,  and  to  the 
belief  that  in  the  dim  red  dawn  of  man  there  was  a  golden  age 
of  woman,  which  later  on  passed  into  the  iron  age  of  male  despot- 
ism. The  facts  were  sound,  but  the  inference  drawn  from  them 
was  precarious,  for  it  was  not  sufficiently  recognized  that  there 
was  a  distinction  between  matriarchy,  the  rule  of  the  mother, 
and  what  I  have  spoken  of  already  as  mother-right,  rights  going 
through  the  mother  and  dependent  on  the  mother.  What  is  really 
common  among  the  simpler  peoples,  is  not  matriarchy,  but 
mother-right,  and  along  with  mother -right,  and  where  it  most 
flourishes,  it  is  perfectly  possible  for  the  position  of  women  to  be 

^  I  do  not  add  the  religious  conception  of  marriage  (as  a  sacrament) 
as  a  fourth  type,  because  the  rehgious  (or  magical)  conception  is 
present  at  each  stage  as  a  basis  or  framework  for  law  or  custom  rather 
than  as  an  independent  form  of  the  marriage  relation.  At  the  same 
time,  these  religious  conceptions,  particularly  under  Christianity,  have 
deeply  affected  the  actual  contents  of  the  law,  and  in  relation  to  the 
permanence  of  the  union  may  be  said  to  have  constituted  a  special 
type. 


160  MORALS  IN    EVOLUTION 

as  low  as  the  greatest  misogynist  could  desire.  The  actual  number 
of  cases  in  which  the  woman  has  a  controlhng  or  even  an  equal 
position  are  very  few.  I  will  mention  one  or  two  of  them  later 
on.  As  a  general  rule,  where  the  father  is  not  head  of  the 
household  that  place  is  taken  by  the  Avife's  brother,  and  the 
maternally  organized  clan  consists  of  units  composed  each  of  a 
woman,  her  brothers,  and  her  children.  The  woman  is  not 
necessarily  any  better  off  because  she  is  ruled  by  a  brother  in 
place  of  a  husband. 

Let  us  set  the  two  types  of  family  in  contrast.  Under  mother- 
right  the  wife,  under  father-right  the  husband,  is  the  pivot  on 
which  the  family  relationships  turn.  Under  mother-right  the 
wife  remains  a  member  of  her  own  family.  Under  father-rig-kt 
she  passes  out  of  her  family  altogether,  she  is  even  separated 
from  the  family  cult  and  family  gods,  her  husband's  people  are 
her  people  and  his  gods  her  gods.  Under  mother-right  tlie 
husband  goes  to  live  with  the  wife's  people,  the  cliildren  take  the 
mother's  name  and  belong  to  her  kindred.  In  cases  of  divorce 
they  follow  the  mother.  It  is  the  mother's  family  which  protects 
them.  Her  brother  is  their  natural  guardian,  and  exercises 
all  the  rights  and  duties  which  may  belong  to  that  position. 
The  maternal  kinsfolk  stand  together  in  the  blood  feud,  they 
and  not  the  husband  protect  or  avenge  the  wife  and  her  children. 
They  may  even  protect  her  and  them  from  the  husband  himself. 
In  extreme  cases  the  children  are  not  held  to  be  related  to  their 
father  or  to  their  father's  family  at  all,  whence  in  some  peoples, 
half-brother  and  half-sister  may  intermarry,  as  in  the  well-known 
case  of  Abraham  and  Sarah .^  Under  father-right,  on  the  con- 
trary, it  is  relationship  through  the  male  which  counts.  The 
father  is  the  natural  guardian  and  protector  of  the  cliildren  an;^ 
in  case  of  divorce  retains  them.  It  is  to  him  and  his  Idn  that 
wife  and  children  look  for  protection.  In  extreme  cases  it  is 
only  such  relationship  that  is  regarded.  The  wife  and  her 
children  cease  to  have  claims  on  her  family,  while  relationship 
to  the  male  ancestors  and  descendants  is  traced  to  the  remotest 
degrees.  These  consequences  of  the  strict  principle  of  father- 
right,  however,  are  seldom  pushed  to  the  full  length.  Relation- 
ship through  the  mother  is  generally  a  bar  to  marriage,  though 

^  Similarly,  among  the  Spartans,  children  of  the  same  mother  might 
marry,  but  not  those  of  the  same  father.  The  Samoyedes  had  a  similar 
rule  (Post,  ii.  60).  But  these  logical  consequences  are  by  no  means 
always  pressed.  The  actual  facts  of  kinship  have  their  weight.  Thus,  to 
take  a  single  instance,  in  New  Britain  a  man  may  It  gaily  marry  his  brother's 
(laughter,  but  in  practice  is  restrained  by  the  general  feeling  of  repvignanc© 
to  such  unions  (Danks,  J.  A.  I.,  xviii.  2S3). 


MARRIi^GE  AND  THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN    161 

the  degrees  arc  not  carried  so  far  as  upon  the  masculine  side ;  ^ 
nor  is  the  wife  often  so  cut  oif  from  her  relations  as  the  strict 
consequences  of  the  paternal  theory  might  lead  us  to  expect. 
Her  family,  as  a  rule,  retains  a  right  of  protecting  her  if  she  is 
ill-treated ;  she  will  fly  to  them  for  succour,  and  their  right  to 
guard  her  is  recognized.^  Lastly,  under  mother-right  the  pro- 
perty passes  through  the  woman,  if  not  to  the  woman.  Under 
father-right  it  goes  from  father  to  son, 

10.  Social  institutions  are  rarely  developed  with  logical  pre- 
cision, and  if  we  ask  how  far  mother-right  has  actually  prevailed 
in  the  world  we  find  at  once  that  we  have  to  deal  with  fragments 
which,  if  conjoined,  would  make  up  the  coherent  type  thus 
summarily  depicted,  but  which,  in  fact,  often  exist  apart,  bereft 
of  the  consequences  that  seem  in  logic  to  belong  to  them.  To 
take  only  one  point,  the  system  of  kinsliip  may  be  matrilineal, 
but  marriage  may  be  patrilocal.  Then,  though  the  children 
belong  by  blood  to  the  mother  and  the  mother's  kin,  they  live 
in  the  father's  household  and  among  his  kindred.'  Sometimes 
the  association  with  the  wife's  people  is  temporary,  the  newly 
married  couple  living  with  his  people  for  a  year  or  two  and 
then  setting  up  for  themselves.*  Sometimes,  on  the  contrary, 
it  is  the  association  of  the  children  with  their  father  that  is  the 
provisional  arrangement,  and  when  they  grow  up  they  go  to 
their  mother's  village.^  Differences  in  this  matter  must  affect 
the  actual  life  of  the  family  quite  as  closely  as  the  theoretic 


^  Thus,  a  Hindu  must  not  marry  within  the  seventh  degree  on  the 
father's,  or  the  fifth  on  the  mother's  side  (Mayne,  Hindu  Law,  p.  87,  4th 
ed.).  Manu  makes  a  deeper  distinction  :  "  a  damsel  who  is  neither  a 
Sapinda  on  the  mother's  side  nor  belongs  to  the  same  family  on  the  father's 
side  is  recommended  to  twice-born  men "  (Manu,  iii.  5).  Sapindas  are 
relations  whose  common  ancestor  if  a  male,  is  not  more  than  six,  if  a  female 
not  more  than  four  degrees,  removed  from  either  of  them.  Manu  thus 
insists  on  complete  exogamy  to  the  male  line,  while  forbidding  the  female 
kin  only  to  certain  degrees. 

In  Roman  law  the  praetors  early  began  to  recognize  the  full  right  of 
blood  (cognatio)  as  against  the  strict  agnatio  of  the  patriarchate  (Maine, 
Ancient  Law,  p.  151). 

2  Cf.  Vinogradoff,  Growth  of  the  Manor,  pp.  11,  12  (the  Celts);  136  (the 
Germans). 

3  Thus,  in  Australia,  though  the  marriage  class  of  the  child  is  often 
determined  by  that  of  the  miother,  both  mother  and  child  seem  in  general 
to  belong  to  the  father's  local  group.  Exceptions  are  the  Maryborough 
and  some  North  Western  tribes. 

*  e.  g.  among  the  Hottentots,  Z.  f.  V.  R.,  xv.  p.  343. 
^  e.  7.   among   the   Tsimshian,  Thlinkeet,   Haida,  and  Heiltsuk  (Boaz, 
B.  ^l.,'lS88,  p.  237). 
M 


1G2  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

basis  of  kinsliip.  Thus,  in  the  cases  instanced  it  is  impossible 
to  say  either  that  "mother-right"  or  father-right  prevails. 
Both  principles  are  at  work.  Not  only  so,  but  in  a  number  of 
cases  we  find  both  methods  of  reckoning  kinship  in  use,  whether 
because  a  transition  is  in  progress  or  because  different  methods 
of  marriage  subsist  side  by  side. 

Thus,  if  we  would  seek  to  ascertain  the  extent  to  which 
mother-right  prevails,  we  must  break  up  the  conception,  and 
take  certain  definite  elements  singly  or  in  combination. 
Among  the  simpler  societies  we  find  both  methods  of 
reckoning  descent  in  almost  equal  numbers,  eighty-seven  and 
a  half  matrilineal  and  eighty-four  patriHneal,  the  matrilineal 
being  in  the  majority  among  the  Hunters  and  the  patri- 
lineal among  the  Pastoral  people.  A  better  indication  is 
given  by  ranking  together  as  "maternal  "  cases  in  wliich  only 
matrihneal  descent  is  reckoned,  and  cases  in  wliich  marriage  is 
regularly  matrilocal;  as  "  paternal  "  the  opposite  pair  of  cases; 
and  as  "intermixed  "  cases  in  wliich  both  forms  of  descent  or 
of  marriage  obtained,  and  cases  in  which  matrilineal  descent 
is  combined  with  patrilocal  marriage  or  conversely. 

Omitting  these  last  and  grouping  Hunting,  Pastoral  and 
Agricultural  together,  v/e  get  the  follo^\'ing  results — ^ 


Hunters 
Pastoral 
Agriculture 

In  all  Indo-Germanic  peoples,  among  Semites  and  Mongolians, 
in  a  word,  among  all  the  races  who  have  developed  the  historic 
civihzations,  father-right  predominates.  Thus,  broadly,  when 
we  contrast  the  civihzed  with  the  uncivilized  world,  Ave  find 
mother-right  confined  to  the  latter,  and  Antliin  it  we  find  it 
relatively  most  frequent  in  the  lower  cultures.  We  find  instances 
of  it  in  all  parts  of  the  world,  and  we  frequently  find  among 
"paternal  "  peoples  traces  which  point  to  an  earlier  system  of 
mother-right.  It  would  be  too  much  to  infer  from  these  tha,t 
the  maternal  family  system  is  a  phase  through  which  all  societies 
have  passed,  but  it  is  a  probable  conclusion  that  matrilineal 
kinship,  with  a  greater  or  less  development  of  the  rights  and 
customs  associated  with  it,  is  a  form  of  organization  suited 
to  the  lower  phases  of  culture,  v/hile  the  paternal  famjly 
predominates  in  the   succeeding  grade   of  civilization. 

1  For  further  details,  cf.  Simpler  Peoples,  p.  162. 


Maternal. 

Paternal. 

.     o'i 

18 

1 

10 

.     44 

47 

MARRIAGE  AND  THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN    103 

There  are  two  conditions  to  which  the  rise  of  the  paternal 
family  may  be  referred.  The  first  of  these  is  the  recognition  of 
paternity,  the  second  is  the  rise  of  certain  forms  of  marriage 
involving  the  appropriation  of  a  woman  by  her  husband.  As 
to  the  first  point,  paradoxical  and  almost  incredible  as  it  may 
appear  to  us,  there  are  cases  in  which  primitive  men  find  a  diffi- 
culty in  understanding  that  a  man  is  responsible  for  the  birth 
of  a  child,  and  attribute  it  to  the  action  of  a  spirit  or  an  inanimate 
object.^  We  should  not  build  too  much  on  exceptional  cases, 
but  it  is  worth  remarking  that  the  transition  to  father-right  is 
in  some  instances  associated  with  the  curious  custom  of  the 
couvade,  which,  however  it  is  to  be  understood,  is  clearly  a 
recognition  of  the  relation  of  the  father  to  the  new-born  son. 
The  essence  of  the  couvade  is  that  the  father  has  to  take  certain 
precautions  at  the  time  of  birth.  Whatever  the  precise  meaning 
of  these  precautions — whether  they  are  to  protect  the  father,  a 
portion  of  whose  soul  is  passing  into  the  child,  or  the  child  in 
whom  the  soul  is  finding  a  new  lodgment — they  represent  a 
recognition  of  paternity,  and  apparently  recognition  in  a  crude 
and  early  form  in  which  it  is  conceived  as  a  passage  of  the  father's 
soul  into  the  child's  body.  Now,  among  the  Melanesians,  there 
are  islands  where  mother-right  prevails,  but  the  husband  has 
begun  to  assert  himself,  taking  the  wiie  to  his  father's  house 
or  to  his  own,  if  he  has  one  ready,  where  he  remains  undoubted 
master.  Here  there  is  a  mild  couvade,  the  father  refraining 
from  exertion,  and  from  certain  foods.  But  in  the  South-Eastern 
Solomon  group,  where  father-right  is  more  developed,  the 
couvade  is  also  more  conspicuous.^  So,  again,  in  quite  another 
part  of  the  world,  among  the  South  Americans,  we  find  it  just 
at  the  turning  point  where  mother-right  passes  into  father-right. 
Where  the  position  of  the  father  has  long  been  recognized  and 
is  thoroughly  estabhshed,  the  custom  disappears.  Its  flourish- 
ing time  is  at  the  period  when  the  one  system  is  beginning  to 
give  way  to  the  other.^ 

The  recognition  of  paternity,  however,  is  not  a  necessary 
condition  of  patrilineal  kinship.     It  is  sufficient  that  a  man 

^  This  is  the  theory  of  the  Central  Australians  (Spencer  and  Gillen, 
i.  265  and  ii.  330).  Some  Melanesians  hold  that  paternity  is  due  to  a 
eocoanut,  bread-fruit,  or  something  similar  (Codrington,  J,  A.  I.,  xviii. 
310). 

2  Codrington,  J.  A.  I.,  xviii.  309-311.  Cf.  Kohler,  Z.  f.  V.  Ii.,  1900, 
p.  355,  on  the  couvade  in  Papuan  custom. 

*  Schmidt,  Z.  f.  V.  R.,  1898,  297.  "  Sie  {i.  e.  the  customs  connected  with 
the  couvade)  vrerden  sich  also  am  ausgepriigtesten  gerade  wahrend  jene 
Uebergangszeit  zeigen  wo  das  eine  Princip  (i.  e.  Vater-recht)  das  Andere 
abznl5sen  beginnt." 


164  MORALS   IN  EVOLUTION 

should  appropriate  his  wife  and  her  children  with  her.^  This 
he  clearly  does  not  do  so  long  as  she  remains  in  her  OAvn  family, 
retaining  her  property  as  a  member  of  that  family  and  having 
her  children  in  turn  reckoned  as  members  of  it.  But  there  are 
two  processes  known  to  primitive  man  by  wliich  a  man  can  make 
a  woman  his  own  property  and  transfer  her  to  his  own  family, 
viz.  the  methods  of  marriage  described  as  capture  or  "con- 
sideration." Professor  Tylor  justly  points  out  that  the  practice 
of  capture  must  tend  to  break  up  the  whole  system  of  mother- 
right.  When  the  woman  is  carried  off  from  her  own  clan  to  her 
husband's  house  the  physical  facts  conflict  with  any  custom  or 
law  regarding  her  and  her  children  as  still  belonging  to  her 
family  rather  than  to  his.  Hence,  out  of  forty  cases  of  genuine 
or  "  hostile  "  capture,  Professor  Tylor  finds  that  six  only  occur 
in  the  maternal  stage.  Of  "connubial"  capture  he  places 
twenty-one  instances  in  the  stage  of  transition  from  the  maternal 
to  the  paternal  system,  and  twenty-five  in  the  paternal  system 
proper.  There  are  no  instances  under  pure  mother-right. 
Finally,  he  enumerates  forty-four  cases  in  which  the  form  of 
capture  is  retained  without  the  reality  as  part  of  the  wedding 
ceremony.  Of  these  he  finds  no  instances  under  mother-right, 
but  twenty-one  in  the  transitional  stage  and  twenty-three  under 
the  paternal  system  .^ 

Now  though,  as  we  have  seen,  there  is  no  reason  to  think 
that  capture  was  ever  universal  or  that  it  was  the  original  form 
of  marriage,  it  is  beyond  doubt  one  very  primitive  way  of  com- 
passing that  type  of  marriage  which  involves  owTiership  of  the 
woman,  and  it  is  quite  intelhgible  that  in  a  tribe  where  mother- 
right  prevailed  those  men  who  by  their  own  bow  and  spear 
could  obtain  women  from  a  neighbouring  clan  should  treat 
those  women  as  their  own  property,  and  so  estabhsh  a  working 
model  of  the  patriarchate.  It  is  also  readily  credible  that 
the  new  type  should  be  more  popular  than  the  old — at  any  rate 
among  the  men — and  that  they  should  seek  to  extend  it  to  cases 
in  which  the  wife  belonged  to  their  own  clan,  and  so  establish 
universal  father-right.  But  to  lay  down  that  this  was  the 
actual  process  by  w^hich  father-right  came  to  prevail  would  be 
to  go  far  beyond  our  evidence.  There  is  no  proof  that  all  patri- 
archal societies  have  gone  through  the  stage  of  marriage  by 
capture,  and  its  frequent  appearance  as  a  form  is  not  conclusive. 

^  e.  g.  in  some  Central  Australian  tribes,  tlioi:gh  paternity  is  not  under- 
stood, the  son  follows  tlie  father's  totem.  It  is  sufficient  that  the  husband 
is  owner  of  the  mother  (Spencer  and  Gillen,  II.  145,  175). 

a  Tylor,  J.  A.  I.,  xviii.  259. 


MARRIAGE  AND  THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN    105 

The  explanation  may  be  that  some  form  was  necessary  to  assert 
definite  ownersliip,  and  that  the  natural  form  of  asserting  definite 
ownership  was  the  form  of  capture. 

The  alternative  and  in  reahty  commoner  method  of  appropriat- 
ing a  wife  is  that  of  purchase,  or  quasi -purchase,  and  the  fact  of 
purchase  is  closely  associated  "with  the  whole  position  of  women 
in  cases  where  the  patriarchate  is  strongly  developed.  We  are 
moving  here  in  a  region  permeated  with  ideas  of  slavery,  the 
ownership  of  one  human  being  by  another,  permeated  also  by 
the  idea  of  a  family  as  a  unit  to  which  each  member  belongs 
as  a  limb.  The  bride  purchased  from  her  own  family  passes 
out  of  it  and  into  that  of  her  husband.^  Wliere  the  consequences 
are  pressed  to  their  furthest  extent  her  family  lose  the  power  of 
protecting  her,  and  the  ^^ife  is  at  the  mercy  of  her  husband  as 
to  life  and  limb.  He  may  dispose  of  her  at  pleasure,  he  may 
sell  her,  give  her  away,  or  lend  her ;  and  she  has  no  right  of 
redress  against  him.^  At  best  she  may  escape  from  him  if  her 
family  return  her  price  and  buy  her  back.  Also,  there  is  notliing 
in  this  order  of  ideas  to  prevent  the  husband  buying  as  many 
women  as  he  wishes.  This  extreme  form  must  not  be  taken  as 
the  normal  case.  Natural  feehng,  after  all,  has  its  way  every- 
where in  the  world,  affection  and  the  sense  of  kinship  survive  the 
technical  exclusion  from  the  family,  and  so  we  more  often  find 
that  by  a  kind  of  compromise  the  wife's  relations  retain  certain 
powers  of  protecting  her.  Her  murder  would  in  many  cases  excite 
the  blood  feud,  and  if  she  runs  away  from  her  husband,  and  can 
satisfy  her  relations  that  she  had  good  cause  in  his  ill-treatment, 
they  will  in  many  instances  stand  by  her  and  give  her  protec- 
tion.^ Still,  her  position,  even  in  such  cases,  is  rather  that  of  a 
protected  dependent  than  of  a  free  woman.  Slavery  is  still 
slavery  though  the  position  of  the  slave  may  be  mitigated  by 

^  It  must  not  be  assumed  that  marriage  by  purchase  always  impHes 
fe.ther-right.  Under  mother-right  a  man  may  pay  a  bride  price  for  the 
usufruct  of  a  woman  (e.  g.  among  the  Papuas,  Kohler,  Z.  f.  V.  R.,  1900, 
pp.  347,  348).  But  it  is  easy  to  see  that  oiit-and-out  purchase  goes  natur- 
ally with,  and  may  be  said  logically  to  necessitate  a  thoroughgoing  paternal 
system  (see  above,  p.  154,  and  below,  -p.  168). 

^  Post  (i.  171)  instances  former  customs  among  Parthians  and  Arme- 
nians, the  Gypsies,  Tscherkessen,  Maravis  of  South  Africa,  and  ancient 
Germans,  and  quotes  Csesar  on  the  Gauls  :  "  Viri  in  usores  sicuti  in  liberos 
vitse  necisque  habent  potestatem."  Among  some  South  American  Indians 
the  father  can  lend,  sell,  or  exchange  the  wife  (Schmidt,  loc.  cit.,  p.  298). 
The  right  of  the  husband  to  kill  the  wife  taken  in  adultery  is  general — ^Post, 
(i.  172)  says  "  ganzlich  universell,"  but  this  is  an  overstatement. 

^  See  above,  p.  162.  Among  the  Somali  and  in  the  Gaboon  the  husband 
who  kills  his  wife  must  pay  a  fine  to  her  family  (Post,  Ajrik.  Jurisp. 
p.  62).     This,  I  suppose,  is  a  composition  for  blood  vengeance.     So,  toO; 


166  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

lav/,  and  such  mitigation  is  in  reality  no  rare  occurrence  even 
for  the  actual  slave  at  the  level  of  civilization  which  we  are 
considering.^ 

The  appropriation  of  the  wife  consohdates  the  family  and 
tends  to  the  integration  of  the  clan,  but  at  the  cost  of  a  more 
or  less  complete  subordination  of  the  wife.  Hence  the  position 
of  the  woma,n  seems,  if  anything,  to  change  for  the  worse  as 
social  organization  advances.  Tliis  deterioration,  however,  is 
perhaps  less  severe  than  appears  at  first  sight. 


among  the  Kaffirs  (ib.,  p.  401).  The  husband  has  to  pay  the  blood  price 
to  the  wife's  family  if  she  dies  in  giving  birth  to  a  child  ;  o  fortiori  we  may 
suppose  that  if  he  deliberately  killed  her,  the  same  penalty  would  be  im- 
posed. Among  the  Ainu,  Batchelor  (The  Ainu  of  Japan,  p.  138)  notes 
a  change.  Formerly  the  head  of  a  family  had  absolute  powers  to  divorce, 
disinherit  or  punish.  Now  little  can  be  done  without  consulting  neigh- 
bours. Among  the  Australians  the  wife  was  sometimes  protected  by  her 
relations.  Thus  in  N.-W.  Central  Queensland,  if  her  husband  killed  her, 
he  had  to  give  up  a  sister  to  her  relations,  which  may  or  may  not  have 
acted  as  a  deterrent.  But  in  addition  the  woman  had  always  her  "  tribal  " 
brothers  to  protect  her  (Roth,  op.  cit.  141).  Among  the  Kurnai  there 
were  cases  in  which  the  relatives  would  seek  to  avenge  a  wife  whom  her 
husband  had  killed  (Fison  and  Howitt,  K.  and  K.,  p.  206).  In  New 
South  Wales,  on  the  other  hand,  Fraser  found  that  the  wife  was  the 
property  of  the  husband,  who  might  kill  her  without  challenge  from 
social  or  tribal  laws  {op.  cit.,  p.  27).  Among  the  Mandingos  the  wife  is 
protected  by  the  judge  (Post,  Afrik.  Jurisp.,  p.  402).  Among  the  Yoruba 
by  her  family  (Ellis,  op.  cit.,  187).  Among  the  Malays,  in  the  "djudjvur" 
marriage  the  wife  passes  by  purchase  into  the  husband's  family,  yet  the 
wife's  parents  can  interfere  to  protect  her  in  case  of  cruel  treatment 
(Waitz,  v.  144.)  According  to  Dr.  Westermarck  ("  Position  of  Women 
in  Early  Civilization,"  Sociological  Papers,  p.  155),  "  there  are  peoples 
among  whoin  the  husband's  authority  is  almost  nil,  although  he  has 
had  to  pay  for  his  wife."  But  no  instances  are  given,  and  I  imagine 
them  to  be  rare.  In  Simpler  Societies  we  have  noted  eighty-two  cases  in 
which  the  husband  has  the  right  of  chastisement  and  twenty-nine  in  which 
the  wife  is  protected  either  by  her  kindred  or  the  law,  but  in  eight  of  these 
the  protection  only  qualifies  an  admitted  right  of  chastisement,  and  it  is 
very  possible  that  with  further  information  we  should  find  the  same  thing 
to  be  true  in  several  of  the  remaining  instances.  The  fig\ires,  however, 
are  too  small  to  admit  of  confident  generalization.  An  interesting  trace 
of  the  feeling  that  it  is  the  duty  of  a  wife's  relations  to  avenge  her  is  found 
in  the  Alcestis,  vv.  731-733,  where  Admetus'  father  threatens  him  with 
the  vengeance  of  Alcestis'  brother,  though  Alcestis  has  chosen  voluntarily 
to  die  on  Admetus'  behalf — 

StKtts  re  Scicreis  aolffi  K'/jSecrraTs  tri. 

"fl  t'&^  "A/coffTos  ovKir'  iffr'  iv  aydpdrrif 

el  jxi\  aa^iX<prjs  aXfia  rifx,(ap'i]aerai. 

Naturally,  however,  the  right  of  protection  by  her  relations  is  more  effective 
when  the  wife  is  still  regarded  as  a  member  of  their  family  (Post,  i.  173). 
1  For  instances,  see  Post,  i.  171-177. 


MARRIAGE  AND  THE  POSITION   OF   WOMEN    167 

1 1 .  Tlie  Position  of  Women  in  Early  Society. 

Favourable  as  the  position  of  woman  under  mother-right 
appears  on  the  surface,  the  truth  is  that  it  is  no  bar  whatever 
to  complete  legal  subjection.  Among  the  Caribs,  where  descent 
goes  through  the  fema,le  only,  the  women  were  nevertheless 
in  an  inferior  position.  The  husband  alone  had  the  right  of 
divorce,  and  he  could  exercise  it  at  will,  the  only  effect  of  mother- 
right  being  that  in  case  of  divorce  the  wife  would  retain  the 
children.  Among  the  North  American  Indians  generally,  not- 
^vithstanding  the  tendency  to  mother-right,  the  position  of 
women  is,  on  the  whole,  admitted  to  be  low.^  In  Melanesia, 
where  there  is  strict  mother-right,  the  mother  is  in  no  way  head 
of  the  family.  The  family  house  is  the  father's,  the  garden  is 
his,  the  rule  and  government  are  his.^  In  Oceania  generally, 
where  mother-right  is  common,  the  two  sexes  are  in  large  measure 
separated  in  their  lives  through  the  complex  mass  of  taboos 
which  prohibit  their  intercourse.^  The  head  of  the  maternal 
family  may  have  the  same  despotic  power  as  the  patriarch — 
thus,  among  the  Barea  and  Kunama,  he  has  the  power  of  life 
and  death ;  among  the  Bangala,  the  liimbunda,  and  on  the 
Loango  coast  the  right  of  selling  any  member  of  the  family; 
and  in  general,  under  the  maternal  as  under  the  paternal  system, 
the  head  is  a  male.* 

Apart  from  the  general  tendency  to  overlook  the  masculine 
headship  of  the  maternal  family,  and  so  confuse  mother-right 
and  matriarchy,  mistaken  views  have  arisen  from  the  identifica- 
tion of  marriage  by  service  with  the  suborchnation  of  the  husband 
to  the  Vv'ife.  The  man  who  cannot  buy  a  wife  becomes  a  servant 
to  her  family,  but  not  to  her.  Jacob  did  not  serve  Rachel,  but 
Laban,  and  when  the  term  of  service  was  complete  both  Leali 

1  See  Waitz,  iii.  101,  382 ;  Catlin,  N.  A.  Indians,  i.  23  and  226.  Ratzel 
puts  it  that  the  position  of  the  women  is  not  in  all  cases  one  of  oppression 
(ii.  128). 

2  Codrington,  J.  A.  I.,  xviii.  309.  Dr.  Westermarck,  who,  on  the  whole, 
takes  a  favoiu'able  view  of  the  position  of  women  among  savages,  declines 
to  attribute  any  influence  in  this  direction  to  mother-right  [Sociological 
Papers,  p.  157  ;  Moral  Ideas,  655-657).  Herein  he  is  opposed  to  Steinmetz, 
and  to  Ratzel  (see,  e.  g.  Ratzel,  The  History  of  Mankind,  ii.  334).  The 
argument  that  (e.  g.  among  the  Australians)  the  position  of  women  is  not 
sensibly  affected  by  the  system  of  descent  is  not  very  forcible,  since  the 
importance  of  the  family  is  so  small,  as  compared  with  that  of  the  local 
group  and  its  divisions,  that  the  mode  of  reckoning  descent  naturally 
counts  for  little. 

*  In  some  instances,  however,  the  position  of  women  is,  or  has  been, 
favourable  in  Oceania,  e.  g.  in  Micronesia,  and  in  New  Zealand  (Ratzel,  i. 
273-274,  and  Waitz,  iii.  101). 

*  Post,  Grundriss,  i.  134-136.     Post  notes  that  there  are  exceptions. 


168  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

and  Rachel  remark  that  they  have  now  passed  out  of  their 
father's  family.  They  identify  themselves  with  Jacob,  and 
Rachel  steals  Laban's  household  gods  on  his  behalf.  At  the 
same  time,  marriage  by  service  does  fairly  illustrate  some  of 
the  conditions  which  modify  the  relation  of  husband  and  wife, 
and  may  even  affect  the  question  whether  mother-  or  father- 
right  is  to  prevail.  The  man  serves  because  he  has  not  the 
property  wherewith  to  buy  him  a  wife,  and  so  we  not  infre- 
quently find  that  the  two  kinds  of  marriage  subsist  side  by  side. 
Thus,  among  some  Calif ornian  tribes,  purchase  is  the  rule,  but  if 
a  man  can  only  pay  half  the  bride  price  he  enters  the  wife's  house 
in  a  servile  position.^  Similarly,  among  the  Micronesians  of 
Mariana  the  husband  must  serve  if  he  haa  not  wealth  enough  to 
support  the  wife.  The  best  instance  may  be  drawn  from  the 
Malay  Archipelago,  where  the  two  opposed  types  of  marriage 
are  found  fully  developed  with  special  names.  In  one,  Amhil 
anak,  the  husband  is  purchased  by  the  wife's  family ;  he  enters 
it,  as  a  rule,  in  a  dependent  position,  the  children  all  belong  to 
the  mother's  familj^  and  the  wife  has  the  right  of  divorce.  In 
the  other  form,  Djudjur,  the  husband  or  the  husband's  family 
has  to  purchase  the  wife  ;  she  becomes  his  property,  the  children 
are  his,  and  he  has  the  right  of  divorce.  Her  parents  only  retain 
a  certain  right  of  intervention  in  case  of  cruel  treatment.^  In 
such  cases,  at  least,  it  is  clear  that  the  relations  of  husband  and 
wife  are  determined  not  by  any  prevalent  custom  or  opinion 
prescribing  what  such  relations  ought  to  be,  but  by  the  actual 
success  or  failure  of  the  man  in  finding  means  whereby  to  appro- 
priate a  woman  to  himself.^     Thus  the  difference  between  the 

1  Kohler,  Z.  f.  V.  R.,  1897,  p.  383. 

^  Waitz,  V.  i.  144  ff,  Cf.  Marsden,  History  of  Sumatra,  p.  220,  etc., 
cited  in  Spencer's  Descriptive  Sociology. 

8  We  may  note  in  this  connection  that  among  civilized  peoples  which 
have  completely  developed  the  patriarchal  system,  and  perhaps  even 
passed  bej-^ond  its  extreme  phases,  there  is  a  tendency  to  the  subjugation 
of  the  husband,  in  cases  where  women  are  allowed  control  of  their  own 
property,  if  the  wife  is  the  wealthy  one.  I  am  not  speaking  from  the  point 
of  view  of  the  humorist  or  the  novelist,  but  of  the  lawyer.  Thus,  few 
peoples  have  pushed  the  right  of  the  father  to  a  more  extreme  point  tlian 
the  Japanese  in  the  Far  East,  or  the  ancient  Romans  in  the  west.  Yet 
among  the  Romans,  when  women  acquired  by  the  Lex  Julia  complete 
control  over  their  dowry,  the  result  wgs  tliat  the  husband  frequently 
passed  into  practical  subjugation  to  a  rich  wife.  In  Japan  it  is  astonishing 
to  find  the  recrudescence  of  the  primitive  custom  of  the  husband  coming  to 
live  with  the  wife,  and  taking  her  name  in  the  case  where  the  eldest 
daughter  inherits  an  estate,  or  where  the  bride's  father  supplies  the  house. 
From  instances  like  these,  drawn  from  cases  where  the  patriarchate  had 
its  most  extreme  development,  wo  can  understand  the  full  strength  of  the 
oconomic  factor  in  determining  marital  relations,  and  we  u^&y  draw  the 


MARRIAGE  AND  THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN    169 

maternal  and  paternal  systems  does  not  turn  on  divergencies  of 
principle  as  to  the  rights  of  women,  nor  does  the  superior  position 
of  the  wife's  family  necessarily  imply  any  similar  superiority 
in  the  Avife  herself.  No  doubt  under  mother-right  the  woman 
derives  some  advantages  from  her  position,  such  as  the  retention 
of  her  cliildren  in  case  of  divorce,  but  the  cases  in  which  it  has 
given  her  real  equality  or  superiority  prove,  on  examination, 
to  be  very  rare.  Among  the  Nairs,  who  are  sometimes  quoted 
in  this  connection,  and  who,  as  has  been  mentioned,  combine 
polygamy  and  polyandry,  the  woman  chooses  her  husband  and 
brings  him  to  her  house.  Possessions  pass  from  mother  to 
daughter.  The  woman  may  divorce  her  husband,  or  rather  any 
of  her  husbands,  at  pleasure.  Often  a  brother  and  sister  set  up 
house  together,  the  tie  between  them  being  held  closer  than 
that  between  husband  and  wiie,  and  if  in  such  a  case  the  wiie 
goes  to  live  with  a  husband  she  will  be  subject  to  the  sister. 
It  follows  also  that  the  child  is  attached  to  the  uncle  rather 
than  the  father.  In  such  an  organization  the  family,  as  we 
understand  it,  is,  of  course,  completely  broken  up,  and  there  is 
no  doubt  that  the  position  of  the  woman  makes  her  in  a  way 
the  centre  of  the  whole  organization.  There  is  equally  no  doubt 
that  in  this  case  she  acquires  from  this  position  a  considerable 
authority.  But  we  are  also  told  that,  although  she  inherits  the 
property,  her  brother  or  maternal  uncle  administers  it,  and, 
again,  it  is  administered  rather  on  behalf  of  the  whole  group  of 
kinsfolk — that  is  to  say,  as  collective  property — than  as  belonging 
to  any  individual  owner,  so  that,  after  all,  we  are  not  very  far 
removed  from  the  normal  state  of  things  under  mother-right, 
where  the  woman  is  subject  to  her  brothers  instead  of  to  her 
husband. 

Somewhat  similar  cases  may  be  cited  from  among  the  North 
American  Indians.  Here  the  women  had  occasionally  a  certain 
measure  of  political  importance ;  for  example,  they  might  be 
represented  by  a  spokesman,  either  male  or  female,  at  the  men's 
council,  and  they  sometimes  originated  warlike  expeditions 
with  the  object  of  replacing,  by  a  raid  and  the  capture  of  a 
prisoner,  the  loss  of  a  warrior  of  the  clan.  To  them,  also,  as  we 
shall  see  la,ter  on,  was  referred  in  many  cases  the  fate  of  the 
prisoners  taken.  They  decided  whether  prisoners  should  be 
tortured  or  adopted,  and,  moreover,  took  a  special  part,  "with  a 

inference  that  where  in  the  unciviHzed  world  we  find  the  husband  passing 
into  the  wife's  family,  even  in  an  inferior  position,  it  does  not  follow  that 
any  favourable  inference  is  to  be  drawn  as  to  the  prevalence  of  an  ethical 
conception  of  women's  rights. 


170  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

peculiar  zest,  in  the  execution  of  the  tortures  v^lien  a  decision 
•..as  taken  in  that  direction. 

Among  the  Iroquois,  where  we  have  some  of  the  most  detailed 
accounts,  we  are  told  that  the  women  occupied  a  dominant 
position  in  the  Long  House  where  the  joint  family  lived. 
"Usually  the  female  portion  ruled  the  house,  and  were  doubt- 
less clannish  enough  about  it.  Stores  were  in  common,  and 
woe  to  the  luckless  husband  or  lover  who  was  too  shiftless  to 
do  his  share  of  the  providing.  No  matter  how  many  children 
or  whatever  goods  he  might  have  in  the  house,  he  might  at  any 
time  be  ordered  to  take  up  his  blanket  and  budge.  .  .  .  The 
house  would  be  too  hot  for  him,  and  unless  saved  by  the  inter- 
cession of  some  aunt  or  grandmother,  he  must  retreat  to  his 
own  clan,  or,  as  was  often  done,  go  and  start  a  matrimonial 
alHance  in  some  other."  ^  The  women,  says  Morgan,  were  the 
great  power  in  the  clans.  They  could  "  knock  off  the  horns  "  of 
a  chief,  and  of  certain  chiefs  they  had  the  nomination  .^  Yet 
even  among  the  Iroquois  we  do  not  find  that  the  position  of 
women  w^as  altogether  good.  On  the  contrary,  they  did  all  the 
drudgery  of  house  and  field.  They  were  socially  separate  from 
the  man,  and  the  conquered  Delaware  were  named  women  as  a 
term  of  reproach,  and  compelled  to  forego  arms  as  a  mark  of 
contempt.^  Of  the  North  American  Indians  generally,  Waitz* 
makes  a  remark  which  goes  to  the  root  of  the  matter,  that 
though  property  passed  by  the  women  they  seem  to  have  had 
little  or  none  of  their  own.  There  remain  a  few  scattered  cases 
in  which  the  \Adfe — not  merely  the  vriie's  family — is  said  to 
enjoy  superiority  or  even  authority.  Among  the  Kocchs  of 
Bengal  it  is  stated  by  Dalton  that  the  husband  goes  to  hve  in 
the  wife's  clan,  and  that  liis  property  passes  to  her  daughters 
only ;  and  not  only  this,  but  he  has  to  obey  his  wife,  and  what  is, 
perhaps,  more  extreme,  her  mother  as  well.^  Among  some  ot 
the  forest  nomads  in  Asia  the  position  of  women  is  good,  e.  g. 
among  the  Veddas,  women  seem  to  be  equal  -with,  men  in  all 

1  From  a  letter  by  the  Rev.  A.  Wright,  a  missionary  among  tlie  Senecas, 
written  in  1873,  and  given  in  Morgan's  Houses  and  Houselife  of  the  American 
Aborigines,  p.  65.  It  is  wortli  noting  that  Mr.  Wright  appears  to  be 
describing  a  past  state  rather  than  that  whieli  he  actually  saw. 

*  In  all  the  economic  grades  we  find  a  few  instances  in  which  women 
could  take  a  part  in  government,  either  being  admitted  to  councils  or  being 
able  to  act  as  chiefs.  In  one  case,  the  Wyandot,  the  women  elected  and 
formed  the  gentile  council,  which  chose  a  man  as  chief  (Powell,  Wyandot 
Government,  R.  B.  E.,  vol.  i.  p.  61). 

"  Schoolcraft- Drake,  i.  277,  388.     Morgan,  League  of  the  Iroquois,  323. 

'  Waltz,  iii.  129. 

''  Dalton,  p.  91.     Letourneau,  La  Fanme,  p.  175. 


MARRIAGE  AND  THE  POSITION  OF   WOMEN    171 

respects  (Seligmann,  p.  8),  and  we  find  a  few  scattered  cases  in 
all  the  economic  grades  of  the  lower  cultures  in  which  the  woman 
is  said  to  be  on  an  equal  footing  with  the  man.  Other  cases 
in  which  a  higher  position  is  attributed  to  the  wife  either 
depend  on  her  superior  social  or  economic  position  or  on  the 
failure  of  the  husband  to  pay  her  price  .^  They  do  not  indicate 
that  the  position  of  the  woman  is,  as  such,  equal  or  superior  to 
that  of  the  man. 

A  handful  of  exceptions  such  as  these,  however  interesting  as 
disproving  sweeping  generahzations,  do  not  alter  the  fact  that 
in  the  great  majority  of  unciviUzed  peoples  the  position  of 
woman  is  in  greater  or  less  degree  inferior  to  that  of  man  in 
point  of  personal  rights.^     Apart  from  a  sufficiently  frequent 

^  Among  upwards  of  500  peoples  of  whom  we  have  obtained  some 
information  as  to  marriage  and  the  position  of  women,  we  have  entered 
seventeen  (probable  cases  reckoned  as  a  half)  in  which  the  wife's  position 
is  clearly  made  out  to  be  equal  to  that  of  the  husband.  In  one  or  two 
rare  cases  the  law  of  divorce  favours  the  wife.  For  instance,  among  the 
Khonds  of  Orissa  she  may  leave  her  husband  on  repaying  her  price,  but 
may  only  be  divorced  for  adultery  or  misconduct.  (Dr.  Westermarck 
states  that  constancy  is  not  required  from  the  wife,  and  that  the  hus- 
band may  be  punished  for  adultery.  Social.  Papers,  p.  152.)  Tlie 
husband  may  not  strike  the  wife  taken  in  adultery — a  very  exceptional  rule 
(Reclus,  p.  281).  These  liberties  appear  to  be  coimected  with  a  scarcity 
of  wives,  and  with  the  relics  of  polyandry  (Reclus,  ib.).  Post,  A.  J., 
400,  considers  that  the  position  of  the  wife  among  the  Sarae  is  equal  to 
that  of  the  husband,  and  even  superior  among  the  Beni  Amer  and  the 
Galla.  But  among  the  last-named  he  adds  that  if  the  husband  has  once 
brought  home  the  trophies  of  a  departed  enemy,  he  becomes  absohite 
master.  According  to  Hahn  (quoted  by  Westermarck,  op.  cit.,  p.  154), 
the  Khoikhoi  (Hottentot)  wife  is  mistress  within  the  house,  but  according 
to  Kohler  (Z.  /.  V.  R.,  1902,  pt.  iii.  344,  355— speaking  of  the  Hottentots 
generally),  though  the  wife  has  a  fairly  independent  position,  the  husband 
has  the  right  to  chastise  her  in  moderation. 

^  Dr.  Westermarck,  who  objects  to  the  term  "  subjection  "  as  a  general 
description  of  the  position  of  women  in  the  lower  races,  writes  :  "  Among 
many  of  them  the  married  woman,  although  in  the  power  of  the  hvisband, 
is  known  to  enjoy  a  remarkable  degree  of  independence,  to  be  treated  by 
him  with  great  consideration,  and  to  exercise  no  small  influence  upon  him. 
In  several  cases  she  is  even  stated  to  be  his  equal,  and  in  a  few  his  superior  " 
(Soc.  Papers,  p.  151).  Admitting  this  to  be  the  case,  we  shall  clearly  be 
right  in  persisting  that  in  the  great  majority  of  cases  women's  legal  position 
is  inferior.  It  may  be  added  that  considerate  treatment  is  a  totally 
different  thing  from  equality  of  rights.  In  his  new  work  on  The  Origin  and 
Development  of  the  Moral  Ideas,  Dr.  Westermarck  gives  a  long  list  of  caees  in 
which  the  wife's  position  is  more  or  less  favoured.  But  in  comparatively 
few  of  them  is  equality  of  rights  asserted,  and  in  still  fewer  superiority. 
Even  where  equal  rights  are  mentioned,  the  statements,  with  two  or  three 
exceptions,  lack  precision.  Dr.  Westermarck  himself  says  :  "  All  these 
statements  certainly  do  not  imply  that  the  husband  has  no  recognized 
power  over  his  wife,  but  they  prove  that  his  power  is  by  no  means  unlimited. 
It  is  true  that  many  of  our  authorities  speak  rather  of  liberties  that  the 
woman  takes  herself  than  of  privileges  granted  her  by  custom  ;  but,  as  we  have 


172  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

inferiority  in  her  right  to  property  or  to  the  mere  protection  of 
hfe  and  limb,  apart  from  the  fact  that  the  drudgery  of  hfe  so 
often  falls  on  her  while  the  men  hunt  or  fight/  the  prevalence 
of  the  capture,  purchase  and  exchange  of  wives  testifies  strongly 
in  this  direction.  The  common  facility  of  divorce,  even  where 
the  conditions  are  equal  to  the  two  parties,  teUs  against  the 
woman,  who  is  the  more  interested  of  the  two  in  the  perma- 
nence of  the  tie.  And  very  often  the  conditions  are  not  equal, 
but  favourable  to  the  man.  The  general  permission  of  poly- 
gamy points  in  the  same  direction.  Lastly,  the  woman's  person 
is  not,  strictly  speaking,  her  own  property,  but  that  of  her 
husband  or  guardian,  and  it  is  in  this  sense  in  many  cases  that 
chastity  and  respect  for  women  are  understood  in  the  savage 
and  barbaric  world.  This  peculiarity  makes  itself  felt  in  many 
directions.     In  the  first  place,  wife  lending  is  a  not  uncommon 

seen  before,  customary  rights  are  always  more  or  less  influenced  by  habitual 
practice  "  (p.  646,  the  italics  are  mine).  The  distinction  here  admitted 
cuts  deeper  than  Dr.  Westermarck  seems  to  admit.  In  a  relationship  so 
personal  and  subtle  as  that  between  men  and  women,  de  facto  influence 
and  power  may  develop  to  the  highest  pitch,  without  in  the  least  affecting 
the  recognized  rights  or  status  of  the  sex.  A  favourite  of  the  harem  may 
sway  an  empire  and  yet  remain  a  slave.  The  frequent  statement  of 
travellers  that  the  wife  rules  the  household,  or  that  the  husband  does 
nothing  without  consulting  her,  might  have  been  made  of  this  country  in 
the  days  when  the  legal  pooition  of  the  wife  was  most  abject.  The  power 
to  influence  and  recognized  ethical  equality  are  not  only  different,  but  have 
no  necessary  tendency  to  pass  into  one  another. 

^  The  extent  to  which  women  fill  the  place  of  slaves  in  the  rudest  societies 
has  perhaps  been  exaggerated  by  some  writers.  Dr.  Westermarck  {Social. 
Papers,  p.  150)  points  out  that  for  the  men  to  fight  while  the  women 
toil  is  a  natural  division  of  labour  in  a  world  where  fighting  is  a  frequent 
necessity.  But  this,  though  it  explains,  hardly  alters  the  fact  that  an 
occupation  recognized  as  inferior  falls  to  the  women  (cf.  Westermarck, 
Moral  Ideas,  pp.  633-637).  There  are  many  variations,  and  it  would  be 
easy  to  multiply  quotations  on  either  side,  but  on  the  whole  it  seems  clear 
that  the  more  toilsome  and  least  esteemed  work  tends  to  fall  on  the  women. 
See  the  general  statements  in  Ratzel,  as  to  Oceania,  vol.  i.  p.  273;  the 
Malay  Region,  ib.,  p.  441;  North  America,  ii.  129;  the  Arctic  races,  p. 
225;  the  Negroes,  p.  334;  Kaffirs,  pp.  432,  433;  and  the  Mongols,  iii.  341. 
The  position  in  the  two  first-named  regions  is  the  most  favourable,  particu- 
larly among  the  more  developed  peoples.  In  the  Simpler  Peoples  (p.  170) 
we  have  tabled  eighty-six  cases  in  which  the  harder  work  falls  to  the 
women,  and  twenty-seven  in  which  it  may  be  regarded  as  fairly  appor- 
tioned. They  were  pretty  evenly  distributed  among  the  various  economic 
grades.  The  evidence,  naturally,  is  often  difficult  to  weigh,  and  many 
peoples  have  been  left  unentered  for  this  reason ;  e.  g.  among  the  Karaya 
peoples,  Ehrenreich  {op.  cit.,  p.  27)  says  that  certain  forms  of  labour  fall 
on  the  woman,  but  that  she  is  no  beast  of  burden  and  the  man  also  has 
hia  duties.  Here  we  can  make  no  entry.  Similarly  when  im  Thum 
{op.  cit.,  p.  215)  says  that  in  British  Guiana  work  is  pretty  equal,  but  women 
really  do  the  more  continuous  drudgery,  we  do  not  think  the  statement 
decisive  enough  for  entry  under  either  head. 


MARRIAGE  AND  THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN    173 

custom  among  savages.  The  husband  who  would  kill  or  mutilate 
the  wife  a\  hom  he  discovered  in  clandestine  intercourse  A\dth  a 
lover  will  also  lend  her  as  a  matter  of  courtesy  to  a  guest .^  In 
the  one  case  she  infringes  his  right  of  property,  in  the  other 
case  it  is  as  his  property  that  she  is  acting.^  She  is  not,  in  our 
modern  phrase,  a  person  with  the  full  rights  of  self-respect  and 
respect  from  others  attaching  to  personality.  Secondly,  where 
the  obligations  of  marriage  are  binding  the  rules  for  the  un- 
married are  often  very  lax.  One  exception  to  this  laxity  is 
constituted  by  the  system  of  child  betrothal,  whereby  the 
unwedded  girl  is  already  the  husband's  property,^  and  another 
by  the  demand  for  virginity  in  the  bride  which,  under  marriage 
by  purchase,  it  is  accordingly  the  interest  of  her  guardian  to 
secure.*     Thirdly,   the   claim   to   fidehty  is  usuaDy  one-sided. 

^  Niimerotis  instances  are  given  by  Starcke  (p.  122)  and  Westermarck 
(pp.  73,  74).  The  custom  is  pretty  general  among  the  North  American 
Indians  (Waitz,  iii.  111.  He  excepts  only  the  Sioux  and  the  Chippeway). 
Cf.  Schoolcraft,  v.  68-4.  Post  (Afrik.  Jurisp.,  i.  471,  472)  gives  numer- 
ous instances  in  Africa.  Waitz  (v.  ii.  105)  attributes  the  practice  to  the 
IVIicronesians  generally.  We  found  forty-one  instances  in  ovu:  authorities, 
twenty-seven  from  hunting  peoples. 

2  In  the  Torres  Straits  any  irregular  intercourse  was  called  "  steahng  a 
woman,"  and  there  seems  to  have  been  no  word  for  fornication  or  adultery 
apart  from  {puru)  theft  (Cambridge  Expedition,  275). 

*  Where  the  young  girls  are  gaiarded,  precautions  are  sometimes  pushed 
to  disagreeable  lengths,  as  in  New  Britain,  where,  between  eight  and  ten, 
they  are  put  into  cages  and  kept  there  till  they  are  married. 

*  Post,  i.  21-23.  When  the  husband  expects  virginity  at  the  time  of 
marriage,  unchastity  may  become  a  breach  of  the  proprietary  rights  of 
the  guardian.  Hence  it  is  often  punishable,  especially  if  it  results  in 
pregnancy.  ThiLS,  among  the  Takue,  the  Marea  and  the  Beni  Amer,  the 
seducer  who  makes  an  unmarried  girl  pregnant  excites  the  blood  feud, 
and  among  the  Bogos  the  fviU  blood  price  is  demanded  in  such  a  case 
(Post,  Afrik.  Jurisp.,  i.  61  and  70).  Among  the  Wanyamwesi  the  lover 
must  marry  the  pregnant  girl  under  penalty  of  a  fine  (Post,  A.  J.,  i.  458), 
and  in  Unyoro  she  is  taken  to  his  house,  and,  by  a  characteristic  piece 
of  primitive  reasoning,  he  must  pay  for  her  if  she  dies,  while  if  she  lives 
she  returns  to  her  father  unless  the  lover  pays  the  bride  price.  (For 
other  instances  in  Africa,  see  Post,  ib.,  459,  ii.  70,  and  cf.  Letourneau, 
La  Femme,  p.  48.) 

In  the  previous  editions  I  took  the  view  that  prenuptial  unchastity  is 
normally  disregarded  in  the  simpler  cultures,  and  that  its  enforcement 
depended  almost  exclusively  on  child  betrothal  or  on  marriage  by  pur- 
chase. But  a  more  extended  study  of  the  evidence  has  convinced  me  that 
this  is  an  error.  It  need  hardly  be  said  that  the  evidence  in  this  matter 
is  often  very  difficult  to  assess.  Relations  may  be  winked  at  while  an  open 
scandal  is  subject  for  censure  or  punishment.  We  should  not  treat  these 
as  cases  of  condonation,  e.  g.  where,  as  among  the  Bhuij^ars  (Crooke,  ii. 
87),  we  are  told  that  unmarried  girls  are  free,  but  that  a  lover,  if  detected, 
is  fined  and  forced  to  marry,  we  regard  this  as  a  prohibition ;  on  the  other 
hand,  where  relations  are  generally  tolerated,  and,  in  case  of  pregnancy, 
marriage  or  compensation  to  the  relatives  is  at  the  option  of  the  man, 
we  think  the  case  falls  on  the  other  side  of  the  line  (see  Risley  on  the 


174  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

Wliile  any  ofience  on  the  wife's  part  exposes  her  to  punishment, 
and  while  an  outraged  husband  may  lawfully  avenge  liimself  on 
the  man  who  has  trespassed  on  his  property,  the  unfaithfulness 

Lepchas,  vol.  ii.  p.  8  and  Wehrli,  7.  A.  E.,  xvi.  28,  on  some  of  the  Singpho 
peoples).  Bearing  these  difficulties  in  mind,  the  following  results  must  be 
taken  for  what  they  are  worth. 

(1)  We  have  found  fifty-six  and  a  half  cases  (probable  ones  reckoned  at 
a  half)  of  the  condenmation  and  sixty-seven  and  a  half  of  the  condonation 
of  prenuptial  unchastity.  This,  considering  the  imcertainty  of  the  evidence, 
is  a  balance  on  the  unfavourable  side  on  which  no  stress  can  be  laid.  But 
among  the  hunting  peoples,  particularly  in  Australia,  there  are  several 
cases  in  which,  though  there  is  no  mention  of  prenuptial  relations  as  a 
general  rule,  the  marriage  procedure  involves  the  submission  of  the  girl 
to  a  number  of  men — e.  g.  among  the  Wotjobaluk,  all  the  young  men 
of  the  totem  would  have  the  right  (Howitt,  p.  246).  In  this  connection, 
i.  e.  as  bearing  on  the  regard  or  disregard  for  the  woman's  person,  these 
cases  should  be  reckoned  with  those  in  which  prenuptial  relations  are 
condoned,  and  this  weights  the  scale  more  heavily  among  the  Lower 
Hunters.  Bringing  these  cases  into  relation  with  instances  of  wife-lending 
as  of  cognate  character,  it  appears  that  in  this  respect  the  Hunting  tribes 
stand  materially  below  the  Agricultiu-al,  while  these,  again,  are  clearly 
below  the  Pastoral.  But  there  is  no  more  detailed  correlation  with  the 
economic  advance,  for,  in  fact,  the  lowest  Agricultural  stage  conies  out 
materially  better  than  the  two  higher  stages. 

(2)  To  test  the  effect  of  marriage  by  "  consideration,"  and  in  particular 
by  purchase,  on  prenuptial  chastity,  we  compared  the  proportion  of  cases 
in  which  it  was  condenmed  or  condoned  (a)  in  cases  where  consideration 
is  known  to  be  given  with  all  cases,  (b)  in  cases  of  purchase  with  all 
cases.  The  results  show  no  advantage  to  marriage  by  consideration, 
and  but  a  small  one  to  marriage  by  pinrchase  (cf.  Simpler  Peoples, 
p.  168).  Our  figures  cannot  yield  certainty,  because  we  are  not  fully 
informed  of  the  basis  of  marriage  in  all  cases,  but,  so  far  as  they  go, 
they  favour  the  independent  origin  of  prenuptial  chastity.  The  attitude 
of  the  family  is  probably  tightened  up  by  the  custom  of  purchase,  but 
no  more. 

In  some  instances,  the  unchastity  of  an  umnarried  woman  is  regarded 
as  bringing  a  curse  or  some  misfortune  on  the  family  or  the  tribe.  Thus 
the  Aleuts  fear  that  the  whale  would  pvmish  them  if  their  wives  were 
xmfaithful  in  their  absence,  or  if  their  sisters  were  unchaste  before  marriage 
(Reclus,  p.  52).  Similarly  in  Loango,  the  unchastity  of  a  girl  is  held  to 
bring  a  curse  on  the  country  (Westermarck,  p.  61),  and  a  similar  idea 
seems  to  imderlie  the  punishment  of  a  pregnant  maiden  on  the  Gold 
Coast,  where  she  is  chased  by  the  women  to  the  sea,  covered  with  dirt 
and  ducked,  after  which  she  receives  charms  from  the  fetishman  (Post, 
A.  J.,  i.  460).  Apparently  this  is  not  so  much  by  way  of  punisliment 
as  to  avert  evil.  As  to  the  man,  he,  of  course,  may  be  punished,  often 
with  death,  for  the  infringement  of  the  rights  of  the  family.  V/e  may 
find  the  germ  of  a  different  conception  in  the  belief  that  the  unchastity 
of  a  man  under  certain  conditions  will  cause  misfortune.  Thus  the  Aleuts 
above  quoted  believe  that  the  whale  will  punish  them,  not  only  if 
their  wives  are  imfaithful,  but  if  they  are  unfaithful,  while  on  a  fishing 
expedition,  to  their  wives.  It  is  a  widely-diffused  belief  among  the 
North  American  Indians  that  michastity  on  the  war  path  would  bring 
defeat,  and  hence  captive  women  are  generally  spared.  For  the  rare  cases 
in  which  a  iiusbaud  incurs  penalties  to  his  wife  for  unfaithfulness  see  next 
note. 


MARRIAGE  AND  THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN    175 

of  the  husband  to  the  wife  is  but  seldom  regarded  as  an  offence,^ 
Finally,  it  is  often  open  to  fathers  to  devote  their  daughters 
to  prostitution.  This  is  not  infrequently  a  rehgious  duty,  and 
in  many  cases  there  are  recurring  rehgious  festivals  of  which 
promiscuous  intercourse  is  a  feature. ^ 

12.  All  the  world  over  certain  forces,  ethical,  poHtieal,  economic 
and  perhaps  religious,  act  from  either  side  upon  the  relations  of 
men  and  women.  On  the  whole,  apart  from  a  sufficiently  strong 
development  of  the  ethical  factors,  those  which  fight  for  the 
man,  as  physically  the  stronger,  have  the  upper  hand.  But 
when  there  are  always  forces  tending  the  other  way,  favourable 
circumstances  will  occur  here  and  there  to  give  them  peculiar 

^  Authorities  give  one  instance  to  the  contrary  among  African  peoples, 
viz.  in  Great  Bassam.  Here  tlie  husband  pays  a  fine  to  the  wife  if  un- 
faithful to  her  v/hile  she  is  with  the  prince  (Post,  Afrik.  Jurisp.,  ii.  72). 

Among  the  Hottentots  the  husband  as  well  as  the  wife  may  be  flogged 
for  adultery,  and  except  for  ill-treatment  there  is  no  divorce  without  the 
consent  of  the  council.  But  these  observations  refer  to  Christianized 
tribes  (Kohler,  Das  RecJU  der  Hottentotten,  Z.  f.  V.  R.,  1902,  pp.  3'44  and 
354). 

Among  the  Mariana  the  husband  could  kill  an  adulteress,  but  if  he  on 
his  side  were  unfaithful,  he  would  be  set  upon  and  would  be  glad  to  escape 
with  a  whole  skin  (Waitz,  v.,  ii.  106). 

The  Sioux  and  Santal  (Dakota)  women  are  said  to  beat  their  husbands 
for  unfaithfulness  (Howard,  i.  239). 

According  to  Dr.  Westermarck,  among  the  Shans  of  Burmah  the  wife 
may  divorce  the  husband  for  drinking  or  other  misconduct,  retaining 
the  common  property  (Westermarck,  Sociol.  Papers,  p.  154).  But  Col. 
Woodthorpe  (J.  ^4.  /.,  xxvi.  21)  states  that  the  Shans  of  the  Upper 
Mekong  follow  the  law  of  Manu  as  to  divorce,  i.  e.  the  wife  has  no  powers 
of  divorce  at  all.  In  W.  Victoria,  as  mentioned  above  (Howard,  i.  229), 
a  wife  may  get  a  slight  pimishment  inflicted  on  an  unfaithful  husband, 
and  in  some  Queensland  triiaes  the  women  take  advantage  of  the  initiation 
ceremonies  to  punish  men  who  have  ill-treated  them  (Westermarck, 
Sociol.  Papers,  p.  148).  The  case  of  the  Khonds  has  been  mentioned  above, 
p.  171,  note  1. 

As  mentioned  above.  Powers  states  (p.  22)  that  among  the  Karoks  of 
California  cohabitation  even  with  a  female  slave  is  considered  disgraceful. 
Two  or  three  more  sunilar  instances  are  found  among  the  North  American 
Indians. 

We  could  prolong  the  above  list  if  we  were  to  add  cases  in  which  bringing 
a  second  wife  or  a  concubine  into  the  house  is  a  ground  of  divorce.  Broadly 
speaking,  however,  in  the  savage  world,  under  mother-right  or  father- 
right,  the  husband  is  master  of  the  wife's  person.  Apart  from  the  injury 
to  the  wife,  adultery  has  a  more  public  aspect  as  a  frequent  source  of 
vengeance.  Hence  it  is  not  infrequently  a  subject  of  public  punishment. 
We  have  noted  forty-eight  such  cases,  the  proportion  increasing  in  the 
higher  Agricultural  stages  with  the  general  development  of  public  justice 
{Simpler  Peoples,  p.  166). 

*  For  instance  in  Africa,  see  Post  {Afrik.  Juris.,  p.  465).  In  several 
Australian  tribes  the  women  are  common  at  the  corroboree,  except  to  tlieir 
fathers,  brothers  or  sons  by  blood  (Spencer  and  Gillen,  p.  97). 


176  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

strength.  For  example,  the  circumstances  attending  marriage 
by  service,  especially  when  we  compare  it  with  marriage  by  pur- 
chase or  capture,  have  shown  us  how  much  the  relations  of  hus- 
band and  wife  are  determined  by  what,  in  the  modern  vcorld,  we 
should  call  the  economic  fa^ctor.  The  savage  woman's  price — 
if  by  price  we  mean  the  difficulty  of  appropriating  her — ma,y 
be  high  or  low.  Where  it  is  always  possible  to  organize  a  raid 
and  carry  her  off  it  is  decidedly  low,  and  she  becomes  the  captor's 
property.  Wliere  this  is  not  countenanced,  it  is  possible  to 
buy  her  from  her  guardian,  and  then  presumably  her  price, 
like  that  of  other  things,  is  a  matter  of  supply  and  demand. 
The  actual  number  of  girls  born  and  the  practice  as  to  infanticide 
must  affect  their  value,  and  we  can  understand  that  better 
treatment  of  a  wife  becomes  necessary  to  the  husband  who 
v/ishes  to  retain  her.^  In  other  cases  the  economic  value  of 
the  woman  may  be  high — for  example,  where  agriculture  is 
becoming  important  and  is  still  regarded  as  women's  work. 
In  yet  other  cases  women  are  the  repositories  of  magical  lore, 
and  men  fear  them.^  These  and  doubtless  other  disturbing 
causes  considerably  modify  the  status,  nominal  or  real,  of 
women  in  the  uncivilized  world,  but  the  fluctuations  which 
they  cause  are  fluctuations  about  a  centre  of  gravity  which  is 
sufficiently  low. 

In  the  Simpler  Peoples  we  sought  to  assess  the  position  of 
women  as  objectively  as  possible  by  the  method  of  reckoning  a 
point  for  each  custom  that  would  tell  in  their  favour,  and,  on 
the  other  side,  a  point  for  each  unfavourable  feature.  For  this 
purpose  we  take  what  we  suppose  to  correspond  to  the  judgment 
of  an  average  civihzed  community.  This  judgment  is  by  no 
means  final,  and  in  that  sense  the  whole  method  is  subjective. 
But  as  an  answer  to  the  question  how  far  does  the  treatment 
of  women  in  the  lower  economic  grades  correspond  or  contrast 
with  that  of  modern  civilization,  it  yields  an  objective  relation 
and  is  the  only  method  which  we  could  devise  yielding  any 
definite  answer.  From  this  point  of  view  monogamy  is  regarded 
as  favourable  to  the  woman  and  polygamy  as  unfavourable. 
That  is  not  always  the  view  of  women  themselves  in  polygamous 
communities,  but  it  is  the  view  of  civilized  woman,  which  is  the 

^  Hence,  probably,  the  favourable  position  often  enjoyed  by  women  in 
polyandrous  communities.  To  us  polyandry  seems  necessarily  degrading 
to  a  woman.  To  the  women  of  the  polyandrous  tribe  it  means  that  they 
are  sought  after,  and  therefore  prized. 

^  This  important  suggestion  is  due  to  Dr.  Westermarck  {Soc.  Papers,  p. 
159),  who  is  also  inclined  to  lay  stress  on  the  economic  factor,  (On  this 
point  of.  Ratzel,  ii.  130.) 


MARRIAGE  AND  THE  POSITION  OP  WOMEN    177 

point  here  in  question.  Divorce  we  only  reckoned  when  at  the 
vvilJ  of  the  husband,  other  cases  being  of  ambiguous  value.  The 
husband's  right  of  chastisement  counted  as  a  negative  point, 
and  the  protection  of  the  wife  as  positive,  but  we  gave  it  only 
lialf  value,  as  it  may  co-exist  with  considerable  power  of  marital 
chastisement.  Other  points  were  the  division  of  work  and 
general  allegation  of  equahty  or  inequahty,  and  the  admission 
of  women  to  government .^  Cases  were  counted  good  which 
yielded  a  net  positive  mark,  indifferent  if  they  gave  a  zero,  and 
bad  if  a  negative.  The  results  showed  no  striking  or  progressive 
differences  between  the  grades,  but  indicated  that  in  the  Agri 
cultural  societies  as  a  whole  the  position  of  women  was  shghtb' 
better,  and  in  the  Pastoral  a  little  worse,  than  among  the  Hunters 
but  throughout  the  negative  marks  heavily  preponderate,  as 
the  appended  table  shows — 

Position,  of   Women. 

Cases. 

Good.  Indifferent.  Bad. 

Hunters     ...              22                  6  131 

Pastoral     ....           4                   1  35 

Agricultural    ....  65                28  244 

Totals     ....  91  33  410 

or  as  percentages — 

Hunters 14  4  82 

Pastoral 10  2-5  87-5 

Agricultural   ....   19  8  73 

The  only  type  of  culture  forming  an  exception  to  the  rule  is 
that  of  the  forest  tribes  of  Asia  and  Africa.  Their  case  shows 
that  the  very  lowest  culture  is  compatible  with  a  favourable  posi- 
tion for  women,  but  in  view  of  the  relations  subsisting  in  very 
low  cultural  grades  in  North  and  South  America,  as  well  as  in 
AustraHa,  this  exception  camiot  be  taken  as  evidence  for  any 
general  equality  of  women  in  the  beginnings  of  human  society, 
nor,  therefore,  for  any  general  dechne  as  an  accompaniment  of 
the  first  advances  of  society.  It  is  only  in  the  pastoral  stage, 
with  the  fuller  development  of  the  patriarchate,  that  we  find 
signs  of  a  more  complete  subjection  of  the  wife. 

^  For  the  full  statement  of  the  method,  see  Simpler  Peoples,  p.  148  seq. 

N 


178  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

To  sum  up.  An  institution  of  the  nature  of  marriage  is  appar- 
ently universal.  It  is  improbable  that  custom  has  anywhere  left 
the  relations  of  the  sexes  wholly  unregulated,  and  its  regulations 
include  the  appropriation  of  individual  men  and  women  to  each 
other.  But  in  early  society  the  prohibitions  or  restrictions  of 
choice  to  certain  categories  are  of  more  moment  and  more  strictly 
enforced  than  the  claims  of  the  individual  husband  or  wife.  In 
the  majority  of  cases  the  union  is  easily  broken,  polygamy  is  in 
most  instances  allowed,  polyandry  in  a  few,  licence  on  occasion 
is  not  infrequent,  and  prenuptial  relations  are  often  disregarded. 
All  these  are  marks  of  an  incomplete  development  of  family 
life;  and  in  the  "maternal"  family  the  method  of  counting 
kinship  tends  to  separate  the  interests  of  the  father  from  those 
of  his  household.  The  patriarchal  family  is  more  firmly  knit, 
but  provides  no  adequate  status  for  the  wife  and  mother.  The 
position  of  woman  varies,  but  in  the  majority  of  cases  is  one  of 
dependence.  She  is  generally  given  in  marriage  by  her  relations, 
in  three  cases  out  of  four  for  some  sort  of  consideration,  which  in 
numerous  instances  amounts  to  a  true  purchase,  and  is  on  the 
whole  subject  to  male  rule.  On  this  point  the  "  maternal  " 
system  does  not  materially  alter  her  position.  In  all  these 
respects,  however,  there  are  at  each  grade  of  development 
interesting  exceptions.  Monogamy  occurs  in  all  the  grades 
except  the  higher  Pastoral,  and  in  some  of  the  lowest  the  tie  is 
virtually  indissoluble,  but  there  is  no  reason  to  regard  this  as 
the  primitive  form  of  the  institution.  At  the  same  time  the 
practice  of  polygamy  as  distinct  from  its  admissibility  increases 
with  the  economic  advance.  So  too  does  the  custom  of  pur- 
chase. Mother-right  also  is  commoner  at  the  lower  than  at  the 
higher  levels,  but  there  is  no  clear  evidence  of  any  stage  at  which 
it  is  universal.  In  other  respects  the  conditions  affecting  marriage, 
the  family  life,  and  the  status  of  woman  are  roughly  constant 
throughout  the  economic  gradations.  In  each  there  are  instances 
in  which  as  judged  by  modern  standards  the  position  of  woman 
is  relatively  satisfactory,  but  in  each  these  are  a  minority. 
Unkindness  and  ill-treatment  are  by  no  means  the  rule.  On 
the  other  hand,  neither  romantic  sentiment  nor  the  ethical 
claims  of  personality  play  any  important  part.  Early  society 
achieves  with  difficulty  the  consolidation  of  the  family  life ;  and 
the  patriarchal  basis  on  which  this  is  finally  effected,  confirms, 
if  it  does  not  seriously  accentuate,  the  dependent  position  of 
woman. 


CHAPTER   V 

WOMAN   AND    MARRIAGE    UNDER  CIVILIZATION 

1.  It  is  with  the  Patriarchal  type  of  Family  organization,  it 
would  seem,  that  most  of  the  civilized  races  have  started  their 
career  in  history.  The  stage  of  Mother-right  is  clearly  left  be- 
hind when  their  history  begins.  Traces  of  it  remain,  like  the 
right  of  the  Mother's  Brother  in  the  German  law,  but  they  are 
mere  traces  which  would  be  unintelligible  if  we  had  not  a  mass 
of  customs  among  other  peoples  by  which  to  interpret  them. 
Whether  we  look  at  the  ancient  laws  and  customs  of  India, 
Persia,  Greece  or  Rome,  of  the  early  Celtic  and  German  tribes  or 
the  ancient  Slavs,  or  turn  to  the  Semitic  and  Mongolian  civihza- 
tions  and  trace  back  the  Family  through  Islam  to  the  Arabia 
of  Mohammed's  time,  through  the  Old  Testament  to  the  days 
of  the  Patriarchs,  through  Babylonian  civiHzation  to  the 
Code  of  Hammurabi,  through  Chinese  literature  to  the  ancient 
classical  books,  we  find  that  where  civihzation  is  beginning  the 
Family  is  in  some  form  or  other  already  organized  under  the  rule 
of  the  Father.^  The  type  of  marriage  law,  of  family  structure, 
and  for  the  most  part  the  attitude  to  woman  appropriate  to  the 
Patriarchal  stage  underHe  the  social  history  of  civilization  and 
are  deeply  imbedded  in  its  structure.  The  strongly  knit  family 
life,  the  close  personal  relations  of  father,  mother  and  child  have 
formed  the  nucleus  of  the  stronger  and  greater  social  growths. 
Over  a  large  part  of  the  civihzed  world  the  extension  of  these 
relations  by  the  family  cult  and  the  worship  of  ancestors  has 
proved  to  be  a  social  bond  of  marvellous  strength  and  endurance. 
Yet  this  unity  may  be  purchased  dearly  by  the  loss  of  independ- 
ence on  the  part  of  the  individual  members  of  the  family,  and 
we  have  seen  how  far  this  is  often  carried  in  the  barbaric  world. 
We  have  now  to  see  how  civihzation,  starting,  in  the  great 
majority  of  cases,  with  this  type  of  family,  has  dealt  with  the 
social  and  ethical  problems  involved. 

In  the  early  civiHzation  of  Asia,  the  position  of  women,  and 
particularly  of  married  women,  was  not  worse,  but,  on  the  whole, 
better  than  one  would  expect  on  the  analogy  of  later  times  and 

^  The  Egyptian  family  is  perhaps  an  exception  (see  below,  p.  187). 

179 


180  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTiOW 

of  contemporar}'  civilizations.  Iii  ancient  Babylon,  in  the  time 
of  Hammurabi,  ».  e.  probably  between  2150  and  1950  B.C., 
marriage  was  arranged  with  the  parents,  A\ithout  reference  to  the 
wishes  of  the  bride,^  by  a  form  of  purchase.  It  was,  however,  a 
modified  form  approacliing  more  nearly  to  the  exchange  of  gifts 
which  we  find  in  many  primitive  races.  A  sum  was  given,  it 
appears  from  the  code,  to  the  wife's  father  as  weU  as  to  the  bride 
herself,  but  this  payment  ^  was  not  universal,  and  on  the  other 
side  of  the  account  the  father  made  over  to  his  daughter  on  her 
marriage  a  dov-Tj^  which  remained  her  own  property  in  the  sense 
that  it  was  returned  to  her  in  the  case  of  divorce  or  on  the  death 
of  her  husband,  that  it  passed  to  her  cliildren,  and,  faiHng 
them,  to  her  father.^  Thus  the  method  of  marriage  appears  as  a 
quasi -commercial  transaction,  and  the  decision  thereon  belongs 
to  the  parents  of  the  parties.*  Similar  commercial  considerations 
dominate  the  law  of  divorce,  the  leading  points  of  which  may  be 
given  in  the  words  of  Hammurabi's  code. 

"  137.  If  a  man  has  set  his  face  to  put  awa}^  his  concubme  who 
has  borne  him  children,  or  his  wife  who  has  granted  him  children, 
to  that  woman  he  shall  return  her  her  marriage  portion  and  shall 
give  her  the  usufruct  of  field,  garden,  and  goods,  and  she  shall 
bring  up  her  children.  From  the  time  that  her  children  are 
grown  up,  from  vrhatever  is  given  to  her  children  they  shall  give 
her  a  share  like  that  of  one  son,  and  the  husband  of  her  choice 
shall  marry  her. 

"  138.  If  a  man  has  put  away  his  bride  who  has  not  borne  him 
children,  he  shall  give  her  money  as  much  as  the  bride  price,  and 
shall  pay  her  the  marriage  portion  which  she  brought  from  her 
father's  house,  and  shall  put  her  away. 

"  139.  If  there  was  no  bride  price,  he  shall  give  her  one  mina  of 
silver  for  a  divorce. 

"  140.  If  he  is  a  poor  man,  he  shall  give  her  one-third  of  a  mma 
of  silver."  ^ 

^  Meissner,  Beitrdge  zum  altbabylonischen  Privatrecht,  13. 

*  The  case  of  marriage  without  a  bride  price  is  contemplated  in  Ham- 
murabi, section  139  (Kohler,  118) — that  is  to  say,  if  bride  price  is  the  right 
translation,  and  if  it  is  not  ratlier  the  sum  which,  in  the  regular  contract 
forms,  the  husband  agrees  to  give  the  wife  in  case  of  divorce. 

*  The  dowry  might  exceed  the  bride  price  (section  164).  On  the  other 
hand,  it  remained  in  a  sense  in  the  wife's  family,  as,  if  children  failed,  her 
father  regained  it  on  repaying  tlie  bride  price  (section  163). 

*  See  sections  163-6,  159-161. 

^  I  quote  Dr.  Johns'  translation,  but,  following  Kohler,  have  twice 
substituted  bride  price  for  "  dowrj'."  It  is  clearly  intended  that  the 
unoffending  wife  shall  have  not  only  her  dowry,  which  is  really  her  own 
property  or  that  of  her  family  (section  162),  but  either  the  bride  price, 
which  represents,  so  to  say,  the  worth  of  her  own  person,  or,  wh.r.t  I  cannot 
help  suspecting  to  be  the  meaning,  the  amount  which  at  the  tim.e  of  the 


WOMAN  AND   1NL4RRIAGE  UNDER  CIVILIZATION    181 

On  the  other  band,  the  woman  who  "  has  set  her  face  to  go 
out  and  has  acted  the  fool,  has  wasted  her  house,  has  behttled 
her  husband,"  may  either  be  divorced  without  compensation  or 
retained  in  the  house  as  slave  of  a  new  wife.  The  wife  may  also 
claim  a  divorce  (or  separation)  ^  "  if  she  has  been  economical  and 
has  no  vice,  and  her  husband  has  gone  out  and  greatly  behttled 
her,"  but  she  acts  at  some  risk,  for  if  on  investigation  it  turns 
out  that  she  had  been  uneconomical  or  a  goer  about,  "  that 
woman  one  shall  throw  her  into  the  waters."  ^  Thus  the  vnie 
has  certain  pecuniary  guarantees  against  arbitrary  divorce,  while 
if  ill-treated  she  may  leave  her  husband,  but  her  position  as  his 
subject  is  marked  by  the  manner  in  which  infidehty  is  treated. 
The  law  provides  that  both  parties  should  be  put  to  death  unless 
the  king  pardons  his  servant  or  the  "  o'^vner  "  his  wife.^  The 
lordship  of  the  husband  is  seen  also  in  his  power  to  dispose  of 
his  wife  as  well  as  her  children  for  debt.* 

Polygamy  appears,  not  in  the  rich  luxuriance  of  later  Asiatic 
civihzation,  but  in  a  restricted  form.  A  man  might  marry  a 
second  wife  if  a  "  sickness  has  seized  "  liis  first  wife,  but  the  first 
is  not  to  be  put  away.^  Apparently  this  is  the  only  case  in 
which  two  fully  equal  wives  are  contemplated  by  the  code, 
but  it  was  also  possible  for  a  man  to  take  a  secondary  wife  or 
concubine,  who  was  to  be  subordinate  to  the  chief  wife.  This 
was  a  common  practice  when  the  wife  was  childless,  but  was 
apparently  legal  even  wiien  she  had  children.^ 

marriage  the  husband  contracted  to  give  her  in  the  event  of  a  divorce. 
In  the  contracts  of  the  period  the  sum  is  specified.  In  one  case  it  is  a 
mina,  in  another  ten  shekels.  The  wife  also  states  explicitly  that  if  she 
repudiates  her  husband  she  shall  be  drowned,  strangled  or  sold,  as  the  case 
may  be. 

^  Nothing  is  said  of  her  being  allowed  to  marry  again.  She  is  to  go 
to  her  father's  house.  Observe  above  that  when  a  divorced  woman  has 
children  it  seems  to  be  implied  that  she  will,  at  any  rate,  remain  unmarried 
till  they  are  grown  up. 

'  The  translations  differ  here.  I  follow  Dr.  Johns  (Hammurabi, 
Eections  141,  142,  143). 

^  Hammurabi,  section  129.  On  the  other  hand,  she  is  allowed  to  purge 
herself  by  oath  from  an  unproved  accusation;  if  it  is  made  by  her  hus- 
band, "she  shall  swear  bj/  God  and  return  to  her  house  ";  if  it  is  made 
by  some  one  else,  she  shall  plunge  into  the  holy  river  (131,  132). 

*  The  period  of  debt  slavery  was,  however,  limited  to  three  j^ears 
(Kainmurabi,  117). 

^  Hammurabi,  148. 

^  The  provisions  of  the  code  are  not  perfectly  clear.  The  relevant 
sections  run  as  follows  :  144.  "  If  a  man  has  espoused  a  woman,  and  that 
woman  has  given  a  maid  to  her  husband  and  has  brought  up  children,  that 
man  has  set  his  face  to  take  a  concubine,  one  shall  not  countenance  that 
man,  he  shall  not  take  a  concubine.  145.  If  a  man  has  espoused  a  woman 
and  she  has  not  granted  him  children  and  he  has  set  his  face  to  take  a 


182  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

To  sum  up,  the  early  Babylonian  marriage  law  contemplates 
marriage  by  purchase  or  exchange  of  gifts  with  a  restricted 
polygamy  and  considerable  authority  and  privileges  for  the 
husband,  moderated  by  certain  provisions  for  the  protection  and 
maintenance  of  the  wife.  But  in  relation  to  other  persons  the 
wife  is  a  much  more  free  agent  than  in  many  civilized  countries 
at  the  present,  or  at  any  rate  in  recent  times.  She  could  already 
conduct  business  and  in  certain  cases  dispose  of  property,  and, 
at  any  rate  in  later  Babylonian  times,  she  appears  as  possessed 
of  full  legal  personality,  carrying  on  processes  of  law  and  appear- 
ing as  a  qualified  witness.^     In  this  later  period,  moreover — that 

concubine,  that  man  shall  take  a  concubine,  he  shall  cause  her  to  enter 
into  his  house.  That  concubine  he  shall  not  put  on  an  equality  with  his 
wife."  (I  have  followed  Dr.  Johns'  translation,  but  substituted  "  woman  " 
for  "votary  "  in  accordance  with  the  views  of  other  translators.)  It  is 
not  clear  from  this,  as  it  stands,  whether  a  man  could  compel  his  wife  to 
give  him  a  concubine,  in  case  the  wife  had  children,  but  elsewhere  the  case 
of  a  naan  having  children  by  both  wife  and  concubine  is  clearly  contem- 
plated, and  in  the  contracts  there  are  cases  of  a  man  marrjdng  two  wives, 
of  whom  one  is  to  be  subject  to  the  other.  Thus  Arad-Samas  takes  Iltani, 
the  sister  of  Taramka,  as  his  wife.  He  promises  to  care  for  her  well-being, 
and  to  carry  her  chair  to  the  temple  of  Marduk ;  he  is  already  married  to 
Taramka,  but  Taramka  is  placed  by  the  contract  in  an  inferior  position 
to  Iltani.  "  All  children,"  the  contract  reads,  "  as  many  as  there  are, 
and  as  many  as  shall  be  born,  are  Iltani's."  If  Taramka  says  to  Iltani, 
"  You  are  not  my  sister,"  something  terrible  happens,  as  to  the  nature 
of  which  a  hiatus  in  the  inscription  leaves  us  in  ignorance.  If  either  wife 
says  to  Arad-Samas,  "  You  are  not  my  husband,"  she  is  to  be  branded 
and  sold  for  money ;  if  they  both  do  it  (presumably  if  they  conspire  to 
do  so),  they  are  to  be  thrown  into  the  river.  If  Arad-Samas  repudiates 
either  of  them,  he  is  to  pay  a  mina  of  silver  (Meissner,  ib.,  p.  71).  In 
this  contract,  essentially  the  same  law  as  that  of  Hammurabi  is  seen  in 
active  operation,  and  it  is  clear  that  a  certain  form  of  polygamy  or  con- 
cubinage is  contemplated,  although  there  are  children  in  existence  by  the 
first  wife.  Apparently  the  object  of  the  code  is  to  maintain  the  supremacy 
of  the  chief  wife,  while  imposing  on  her,  if  childless,  the  duty  of  granting 
children  to  her  husband.  The  concubine  should  be  provided  by  her.  If 
she  failed  to  give  him  one,  the  man  might  take  one,  but  must  still  treat 
his  wife  as  mistress  of  the  home.  There  is  no  prohibition  of  concubinage 
merely  on  the  ground  that  the  legitimate  wife  has  children  of  her  own. 
Further,  it  is  only  the  regular  concubinage  with  a  fixed  statvxs,  determined 
by  contract,  which  is  thus  limited.  There  is  nothing  said  to  lunit  inter- 
course with  a  female  slave,  whose  children  might  be  adopted  at  will  by  the 
father,  and  thus  share  in  the  inheritance  with  the  legitimate  children 
(Hammurabi,  170,  171).  On  the  whole,  we  gather  (1)  that,  in  case  of 
sickness,  there  might  be  two  regular  wives ;  (2)  there  might  be,  in  case 
of  childlessness,  and  perhaps  in  other  cases  also,  a  regular  concubine, 
subordinate  to  the  wife;  (3)  a  slave  concvibine  unprotected  by  contract, 
whose  children  might  or  might  not  be  recognized  and  inherit. 

1  Kohler  and  Peiser,  Aits  dcm  Babylonischen  Rechtsleben,  iii.  8,  etc. 
The  marriage  law  had  also  improved  in  the  wife's  favour.  Contracts  of 
marriage  by  purchase  are  very  rare,  though  one  exists  of  the  thirteenth 
year  of  Nebuchadrezzar,  in  which  the  wife  is  bought  for  a  slave  for 
1^  gold  minas  {ib.,  vol.  i.  p.  8). 


WOMAN   AND   MARRIAGE  UNDER  CIVILIZATION     183 

of  the  last  centuries  of  the  independent  Babylonian  civilization — 
it  appears  from  the  contracts  that  a  woman  could  protect  herself 
against  the  advent  of  a  second  Avife  by  pecuniary  penalties  in 
the  marriage  contract.^  On  the  other  hand,  her  marriage  still 
appears  to  be  at  the  disposal  of  her  male  relations,  her  brothers, 
for  instance,  when  the  father  was  dead.  Indeed,  even  the  son 
required  the  father's  consent  to  his  marriage.  To  tliis  extent 
the  patriarchal  power  had  endured. ^ 

2.  In  ancient  Egypt  a  good  deal  of  obscurity  surrounds  the 
position  of  women.  We  have  to  reconstruct  it  partly  from 
marriage  contracts  wliich  perhaps  do  not  show  us  all  the  con- 
ditions of  the  bargain,  partly  from  incidents  in  stories,  partly 
from  passages  in  the  moraHsts,  partly  from  the  descriptions  of 
Greek  travellers.  We  have  no  precise  and  certain  information  as 
to  the  structure  of  the  family,  on  which  everything  turns ;  and  we 
are  deahng  with  a  period  of  four  thousand  years  or  more,  in  the 
course  of  which  there  is  time,  even  in  the  slow-moving  East,  for 
many  things  to  change.  In  fact,  our  fullest  information  relates  to 
the  very  latest  period  of  independent  Egyptian  history,  and  to 
the  time  of  the  subjection  to  Persians,  Greeks  and  Romans. 
In  this  period  Greek  observers,  as  we  know  from  Herodotus  and 
from  a  well-known  passage  in  Sophocles,  were  struck  by  the 
independence  of  Egyptian  women,  and  were  possibly  led  by 
contrast  to  exaggerate  it.^  But  it  is  clear  that  from  the  Old 
Kingdom  onwards  women,  married  or  not,  had  full  right  of  pro- 
perty with  testamentary  powers,  and  could  go  to  law.*  With 
regard  to  their  position  in  marriage  our  most  definite  informa- 
tion comes  from  the  contracts.     These  are  all  late,  being  mostly 

1  The  husband  promises  if  he  takes  another  wife  to  give  her  a  mina 
and  send  her  home.  This  seems  to  have  been  a  common  protection  against 
polygamy.  The  wife  still  engages  to  be  put  to  death,  if  unfaithful  (Kohler 
and  Peiser,  i.  7,  8.  Cf.  Victor  Marx,  Die  Stellung  der  Frauen  in  Baby- 
lonien  :  Beitrdge  zur  Assyriologie,  bd.  4.  hft.  i.  p.  5  seq.). 

^  Kohler  and  Peiser,  i.  9,  and  ii.  7.  The  right  of  the  father  is  limited 
in  Hammurabi.  He  might  only  disinherit  a  son  for  a  serious  crime,  and 
then  only  for  a  second  offence,  and  with  the  approval  of  a  judge  (168,  169). 
In  other  words,  the  property  was  the  family's  and  the  father  had  only 
limited  rights  over  it. 

*  This  is  clearly  true  of  the  statement  of  Diodorus  that  the  marriage 
contract  specifically  enforced  obedience  on  the  part  of  the  husband  to  the 
wife  (Diod.  i.  27)  :  wapb.  toIs  iStwrats  Kvpuvav  ttji/  yvvaiKa  TavSpos,  tv  rfj  rrjs 
TTpoiKhs  CTvyypacpfl  TTpoffOjxoXoyovvTwv  tS>v  yajxovvTcav  airavra  iretdapxho'^^  v  rfj 
yaixovfievri.     This  does  not  accord  with  the  preserved  examples.     See  below. 

*  Griffith,  Catalogue  of  the  John  Rylands  Papyri,  iii.  28.  Gardiner, 
"  i'^gyptian  Ethics  "  {Enc.  Brit.,  p.  481).  The  lady  Neb-sent  conveys  land  to 
her  children  by  will  under  the  3rd  DjTiasty  (Breasted,  Ancient  Records  of 
Egypt,  i.  79)  and  the  king's  confidante  Hetephites  receives  a  legacy  ©f  land 
in  the  4th  Dynasty  {ib.,  90). 


184  .  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

of  the  Persian  and  Ptolemaic  period,  wliile  the  earhest  dates  from 
the  reign  of  Psammetichus  II.  (26th  Dynast j'),  near  the  close  of 
Egyptian  independence.  This  contract  speaks  of  "  compensa- 
tion "  to  the  woman  wliich  seems  to  comprise  two  sums.  One 
of  these  may  be  given  by  her  father  in  lieu  of  her  share  of  the 
inheritance,  and  the  other  by  the  bridegroom  as  ''morgengabe." 
Whether  this  is  so  or  not,  the  bridegroom  proceeds  to  undertake 
that  if  he  leaves  the  woman  "  who  is  mine  own  .  .  .  whether 
desiring  to  leave  her  from  dislike  (?)  or  desiring  another  woman 
than  her,  apart  from  the  great  crime  that  is  found  in  woman, 
I  will  give  to  her  "  the  two  sums  mentioned  above,  a  share  of 
the  joint  earnings  during  marriage,  and  to  her  children  their 
share  of  the  paternal  and  maternal  property  .^  Clearly  a  sum  is 
appropriated  for  the  wife's  security.  Part  of  this  may  be  her 
dowry  ^  and  part  a  nuptial  gift.  In  any  case  this  sum  remains 
in  the  husband's  hands,  but  is  to  go  to  the  wife  if  he  divorces  her. 
She  has  her  own  inherited  property  and  her  children's  right  of 
inheritance  both  to  her  and  their  father  is  secured.  She  may, 
however,  be  divorced  without  penalty  for  adultery.  Polygamy 
seems  to  be  excluded  by  the  terms  of  the  contract.  Records  of 
divorce  exist  from  the  Persian  period  :  "  I  have  abandoned  thee 
as  wife.  .  .  Make  for  thyself  a  husband  in  any  place  to  which 
thou  shalt  go,"  ^  and  in  one  contract  of  that  reign  we  find  the 
woman  stipulating  for  the  right  of  divorce  under  money  penalty — 
notldng  said  of  the  "  great  crime  that  is  found  "  in  man.*  It 
seems  clear  that  in  this  period  the  position  of  the  wife  depended 
on  the  bargain.  This  might,  in  fact,  be  varied  by  a  post-nuptial 
contract.^  In  point  of  fact  these  contracts  secured  the  wife  by 
a  money  penalty  against  arbitrary  divorce,  and  her  children 
in  their  inheritance.^  We  must  infer  that  apart  from  such  a 
settlement  the  position  of  the  woman  would  be  very  weak, 
and  this  accords  with  the  view  taken  by  good  authorities  that 
among  the  poorer  people  loose  connexions  probably  took  the  place 
of  marriage  in  great  degree.* 

'   Griffith,  Papyri,  iii.  115. 

*  This  would  seem  to  be  the  case  in  a  contract  of  the  time  of  Darius, 
where  the  man  says,  "  Thou  hast  given  me  three  pieces  of  silver."  In  case 
of  divorce  he  is  to  return  these  plus  a  third  of  their  earnings. 

3  Griffith,  p.  117. 

*  The  Ptolemaic  contracts  allow  divorce  at  will  of  either  party,  and 
enumerate  the  bridal  property  which  the  wife  is  to  take  with  her  in  that 
event.     The  woman's  position  would  seem  to  be  advanced  materially. 

•  Thus  a  contract  of  the  twenty-second  year  of  Amasis  replaces  "  that 
writing  of  wife  which  I  made  for  thee  "  in  the  fifteenth  year  (Griffith, 
p.  116). 

•  Gardiner,  Enc.  Ethics,  p.  482. 


WOMAN  AND  MARRIAGE  UNDER  CIVILIZATION    185 

The  contracts  clearly  bar  pol3^gamy,  and  we  must  assume  that 
it  was  not  the  custom  in  the  propertied  middle  class  of  their 
period.  Apart  from  contract  it  is  probable  that  it  was,  or  had 
been  allowed,  though  rare.^  Pharaoh  certainly  has  a  large  harem 
in  which  there  is  one  chief  wife,  the  "  great  spouse,"  who  accom- 
panies the  king  in  his  public  acts  and  particularly  in  liis  religiouft 
worship,  who  is  always  a  princess  of  the  royal  blood,  and  prob- 
ably a  sister  of  the  king,  who  has  her  own  household  and  her 
own  servants,  and  might  on  the  king's  death  obtain  practically 
royal  authority  as  regent.  Under  her  there  are  secondary 
wives  taking  rank  according  to  their  birth,  and  being  probably 
more  or  less  secluded,  and  beneath  them  again  are  a  troop  of 
concubines  and  foreign  slaves.  The  court  of  Pharaoh  was 
imitated  by  the  feudal  chief  of  every  nome,  who  also  had  his 
harem,  "  where  the  legitimate  wiie — often  a  princess  of  solar 
rank — played  the  r61e  of  Queen  surrounded  by  concubines, 
dancers  and  slaves."  How  far  polj^gamy  may  have  extended 
bej^ond  the  great  nobles  we  do  not  know,  but  if  it  existed  earher 
the  evidence  of  the  contracts  enables  us  to  infer  that  it  was 
d3ang  out  in  later  times.  The  attitude  to  women  must  have 
improved  since  the  days  of  the  Old  Kingdom  when  Pharaoh 
boasts  of  having  carried  off  the  wives  of  other  men,  and  alleges 
these  exploits  as  proof  of  his  truly  royal  nature.-  On  the  other 
hand,  the  position  of  the  slave  girl  is  indicated  in  the  self -eulogy 
of  a  Tlieban  high  priest :  "I  knew  not  the  handmaid  of  his 
(my  father's)  house.  I  did  not  curse  his  brother,  etc,"  It  is 
filial  piety  which  is  the  merit  here,  Prenuptial  relations  were, 
in  fact,  lightly  regarded,^  and  this  fact,  combined  with  slavery, 
implies  concubinage  regularized  or  other.  Brother  and  sister 
marriage  was  not  rare.* 

On  the  relations  of  husband  and  wife  the  moralists  of  the 
Middle  and  New  Kingdom  throw  some  light.  They  very  pro- 
perly enjoin  kind  treatment  of  the  wife  upon  the  husband.  To 
this  effect  run  the  precepts  of  Ptah-Hotep  :  "If  thou  art  suc- 
cessful and  hast  furnished  thy  house  and  lovest  the  wife  of  thy 
bosom,  then  fill  her  stomach,  and  clothe  her  back.     The  medicine 

'  Gardiner,  Enc.  Etldcs,  p.  481. 

'  Maspero,  Recueil  de  Travaux,  vol.  iv;  Pyramide  de  roi  Ounas,  p.  76. 

°  Gardiner,  loc.  cit.  481,  482.  In  the  "Negative  Confession  "  (see  below, 
Part  II.  chap,  ii.)  adultery  is  repi;diated,  and  impurity  while  serving 
the  god  or  in  a  sacred  place.  It  does  not  on  balance  seem  probable  that 
fornication,  as  such,  figures  in  the  list  of  sins  (Griffith,  World's  Literature, 
p.  5337 ;  Ga.rdiner,  loc.  cit. ;  Max  Miiller,  Liebespoesie  der  alt  en  Mgypter, 
p.  7.     On  the  other  side.  Budge,  Book  of  the  Dead,  ii.  p.  361). 

*  Gardiner,  loc.  cit. 


186  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

for  her  body  is  oil.  Make  glad  her  heart  during  the  time  that 
thou  hast.  She  is  a  field  profitable  to  its  owner."  ^  These  are 
most  proper  sentiments,  blended,  as  they  are,  with  that  simple 
worldly  wisdom  and  gentle  appeal  to  self-interest  which  charac- 
terize the  utterances  of  the  excellent  Ptah-Hotep,  first  of  all  the 
race  of  platitudinarians ;  but  excellent  as  the  sentiment  is,  it  does 
not  imply  the  subjection  of  the  husband  to  the  wife,  but  rather 
the  contrary. 2  The  maxims  of  Ani  are  a  little  more  detailed  : 
"  Do  not  treat  rudely  a  woman  in  her  house  when  you  know  her 
perfectly ;  do  not  say  to  her,  '  Where  is  that  ?  bring  it  to  us,' 
when  she  has  set  it  perfectly  in  its  place  which  your  eye  sees,  and 
when  you  are  silent  you  know  her  qualities.  It  is  a  joy  that 
your  hand  should  be  with  her.  The  man  who  is  firm  of  heart 
is  quickly  master  in  his  house."  ^  All  this  is  in  the  approved 
Oriental  style,  and  so  also  is  Ani's  recommendation  to  the  wife  : 
"What  does  one  speak  of  day  by  day?  Let  the  professions 
speak  of  their  duties,  the  wife  of  her  husband,  and  every  man 
about  his  business."  * 

Honour  to  the  mother,  however,  is  strongly  insisted  on 

"  Thou  shalt  never  forget  thy  mother,  and  what  she  has  done 
for  thee,  that  she  bore  thee,  and  nurtured  thee  in  all  ways.  Wert 
thou  to  forget  her  then  she  might  blame  thee,  lifting  up  her  arms 
unto  God,  and  He  would  hearken  unto  her  complaint.  For  she 
carried  thee  long  beneath  her  heart  as  a  heavy  burden,  and  after 

I  Flinders  Petrie,  p.  132.     F.  L.  Griffith,  The  World's  Literature,  p.  5335. 

^  There  is  a  Httle  more  point  in  a  fiirther  maxim  of  Ptah-Hotep:  "If 
thou  makest  a  woman  ashamed,  wanton  of  heart,  whom  her  fellow- 
townspeople  know  to  be  under  two  laws  (explained  by  Sir.  Griffith  as 
meaning  in  an  ambiguous  position),  be  kind  to  her  a  season ;  send  her  not 
away,  let  her  have  food  to  eat.  The  wantonness  of  her  heart  appreciateth 
guidance  "  (Griffith,  World's  Literature,  p.  5337).  Apparently  this  is  a 
recommendation,  couched,  it  must  be  admitted,  in  naild  terms,  to  a 
man  who  has  seduced  a  woman  to  treat  her  with  consideration.  There 
is  clearly  no  question  of  any  obligation. 

^  The  Boulak  Papyrus,  in  Amelineau,  La  Morale  Egyptienne,  p.  188. 
Brugsch  translates  the  first  words  :  "  Do  not  strike  your  wife."  With 
the  above  coinpare  the  Ptolemaic  precept,  "  May  it  not  happen  to  thee  to 
maltreat  thy  wife  whose  strength  is  less  than  thine,  but  may  she  find  in 
thee  a  protector  "  (Flinders  Petrie,  p.  133). 

^  Maxims  of  Ani,  §  30.  Amelineau,  La  Morale  Egyptienne,  113.  As 
early  as  the  Gth  Dynasty  an  obedient  priest's  widow  gets  a  legacy  "  because 
she  was  so  greatly  honoured  in  my  heart ;  she  said  nothing  to  oppose  my 
heart  "  (Breasted,  i.  155).  It  should  bo  added  that  the  husband  could 
apparently  put  the  vmfaithful  wife  to  death.  In  the  story  of  the  "  Two 
Brothers  "  it  is  narrated  without  comment,  and  rather  as  a  matter  of 
course,  that  the  husband  slow  his  wife  and  cast  her  to  the  dogs  (Griffith, 
World's  Literature,  5257).  According  to  Diodorus,  in  cases  of  adultery 
the  paramour  was  punished  with  1000  blows,  the  wife  by  having  her  nose 
cut  ofi  (I.  78.  4). 


WOMAN  AND   MARRIAGE  UNDER  CIVILIZATION    187 

thy  months  were  accomplished  she  bore  thee.  Three  long  years 
she  carried  thee  upon  her  shoulder  and  gave  thee  her  breast  to  thy 
mouth.  She  nurtured  thee  nor  knew  offence  for  thy  uncleanness. 
And  when  thou  didst  enter  school  and  wast  instructed  in  the 
writings,  daily  she  stood  by  the  master  with  bread  and  beer  from 
the  house."  ^ 

We  do  not  know  the  Egyptian  system  of  kmship,  but  it  is 
recognized  that  the  maternal  link  was  the  closer  ^  and  it  may  be 
that  a  maternal  system  lay  at  the  basis  of  the  Egyptian  family 
and  strengthened  the  position  of  women.  In  later  times  this 
influence  would  be  reinforced  by  the  important  part  taken  by 
women  in  industrial  and  commercial  life.  In  these  relations 
and  in  social  intercourse  generally  it  is  allowed  on  all  hands  that 
their  position  was  remarkably  free.  Little  restraint  was  placed 
on  their  intercourse  with  men,  they  appear  on  the  monuments 
eatmg  and  drinking  freely — sometimes  too  freely — m  masculine 
company,  and  they  surprised  the  Greek  travellers  by  going  out 
without  restraint  to  work  at  their  trade  or  manual  labour  while 
the  men  often  worked  at  home.^  Of  this  position  women  in 
the  commercial  and  propertied  classes  availed  themselves  to 
improve  their  condition  as  wives.  But  the  evidence  of  the 
contracts  cuts  both  ways.     If  they  secured  the  women  who 

1  From  the  Boulak  Papyrus,  translated  by  Griffith,  op.  cit.,  p.  5340, 
from  the  German  of  Professor  Erman. 

-  Gardiner  {Admonitions  of  an  Egyptian  Sage,  p.  43)  says  that  the  system 
was  transitionah  According  to  Max  Mviller  (lAebespoesie,  p.  6)  descent 
was  reckoned  through  the  mother,  and  her  brother  acted  as  guardian  down 
to  a  late  period. 

'  W.  Max  Miiller,  loc.  cit.,  points  out  that  this  freedom  would  not  apply 
to  the  bondwomen  of  the  peasantiy,  who  were  under  the  arbitrary  power  of 
royal  and  priestly  officials,  and  wove  for  them  shut  up  in  a  work-house. 
Here,  however,  we  touch  the  general  question  of  slavery  rather  than  the 
special  position  of  women.  It  is  more  to  the  point  that  to  have  refrained 
from  pressing  a  widow  remained  a  matter  for  boasting,  and  that  education 
in  reading  and  writing  was  not  often  extended  to  girls.  It  is  going  too  far 
to  say  with  this  writer  that  no  ancient  or  foreign  people,  except  those  of 
New  Zealand,  have  given  women  so  high  a  legal  position.  The  attitude 
to  women  in  Egyptian  literature  is  not  particularly  respectful.  Often  she 
is  represented  as  the  temptress,  for  instance  in  the  Boulak  Papyrus — 

"  Keep  thyself  from  the  strange  woman  who  is  not  known  in  her  city. 
Look  not  upon  her  when  she  cometh  and  know  her  not.  She  is  like  a 
whirlpool  in  deep  waters,  the  whirling  vortex  of  which  is  not  known.  The 
woman  whose  husband  is  afar  writeth  unto  thee  daily.  Wlien  none  is 
there  to  see  she  standeth  up  and  spreadeth  her  snare.  Sin  unto  death  is 
it  to  hearken  thereto  "  (Griffith's  tr.  following  Erman,  World's  Literature, 
p.  5340). 

The  general  tendency  of  the  passage,  which  recalls  the  well-known 
chapter  in  Proverbs,  is  plain  enoxigh,  but  whether  the  warning  is  principally 
directed  against  the  harlot  or  the  adulteress  is  not  wholly  clear. 


188  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

were  in  a  position  to  obtain  them,  they  illustrate  the  precarious 
situation  of  the  wife  under  the  ordinary  law.  Our  information 
is  broken  and  incomplete,  but  ta^ken  as  it  stands  and  viewed  as 
a  whole  it  by  no  means  suggests  a  real  equality  of  the  sexes. 

*  3.  Both  in  Egypt  and  Babylonia  the  position  of  women  was 
iu  some  respects  better  than  our  traditional  conception  of  the 
Oriental  woman  would  lead  us  to  expect.  In  other  cases  that 
conception  accords  only  too  closely  with  the  facts.  Each  civiliza- 
tion has  had  its  own  peculiarities,  but  they  have  been  variations 
upon  one  type.  In  India  tradition  starts  with  the  heroic  age  of 
the  Vedas,  in  which  the  paternal  pov/er  is  already  fully  developed. 
The  father  is  master  and,  indeed,  owner  of  the  family ;  wife,  sons, 
daughters  and  slaves  have  no  property  of  their  own,  but  are 
rather  his  property.  On  his  death,  his  place  is  taken  by  the 
eldest  son,  into  whose  tutelage  the  widow  passes.  The  daughter 
might  be  sold  to  an  intending  husband,^  and  it  is  not  probable 
that  her  consent  was  a  material  condition. ^  The  widow  passed 
to  her  husband's  brother  until  a  son  was  born  :  she  did  not  in  this 
age  follow  her  husband  to  the  gr^ve,  though  the  funeral  cere- 
mony strongly  suggests  the  previous  existence  of  such  a  custom.^ 
Finally,  the  Vedas  contain  distinct  traces  of  polygamy,  though 
it  was  doubtless  an  exception.*  Thus  Indian  family  life  begins 
with  a  typical  Patriarchate.  To  this  system  a  religious  turn  was 
given  by  the  Brahman  law.  In  some  respects  the  Brahmans 
endeavoured  to  purify  the  marriage  relationship  and  to  provide 
for  the  protection  of  the  wife.  This  appears  especially  in  the 
attempt  to  prohibit  marriage  by  purchase .  This  form  of  marriage 
is  recognized,  but  figures  along  with  marriage  by  capture  as  one 
of  the  four  blamable  kinds,  and  "  no  father  who  knows  the  law 
must  take  even  the  smallest  gratuity  for  his  daughter."     He  that 

1  The  purchase  of  brides  is  mentioned  in  the  Epic  Poems.  Thus  Bhishma 
purchased  the  daughter  of  the  Prince  of  Madras  for  Pandu,  with  gold  and 
precious  stones  (l5uncker,  History  of  Antiquity,  vol.  iv.  pp.  255-266). 
Capture  was  probably  an  alternative  to  purchase  (loc.  cit.). 

"  Muir  (Sanscrit  Texts,  v.  459)  quotes  a  passage  from  the  Vedas  which 
suggests  that  some  freedom  of  choice  was  exercised  by  women  under 
favourable  conditions.  "  Happy  is  the  female  that  is  handsome.  She  her- 
self loves  (or  chooses)  her  friend  among  the  people."  In  the  Mahabharata 
the  King's  daughters  appear  to  choose  their  husbands,  but  this  is  a  pre- 
rogative of  Royalty. 

^  Wlien  the  widow  has  led  her  husband  to  the  place  of  burial,  she  is 
exhorted  to  "  elevate  herself  to  the  world  of  life,"  for  her  marriage  is  at  an 
end  (Duncker,  op.  cit.,  iv.  511). 

*  In  one  hymn  the  poet  prays  that  Pushan  will  protect  him  and  provide 
him  with  a  supply  of  damsels  (Muir,  v.  457,  461). 


WOMAN  AND  MARRIAGE  UNDER  CIVILIZATION     189 

does^^so  is  "  a  seller  of  his  offspring."  ^  Purchase  is  reduced  to 
the  form  of  a  fee  given  to  the  Brahman  for  the  fulfilment  of  the 
sacred  law,  and  this  fee  is  not  to  be  appropriated  by  the  relatives 
themselves.  Yet  notwithstandmg  Manu's  discouragement  of  the 
practice,  marriage  by  purchase  persisted  in  a  modified  form,  the 
final  compromise  being  that  the  present  given  by  the  suitor  was 
assigned  to  the  benefit  of  the  bride  and  became  her  dowry,  pass- 
ing back  to  her  own  family  on  her  death.  The  barbaric  form  of 
marriage  by  capture  or  abduction,  which  is  morally  condemned 
by  Manu  but  legally  sanctioned  for  the  Kshatriya  caste,  became 
obsolete,  being  forbidden  in  Na.rada's  code,  and  the  two  forms  of 
marriage  which  persist  in  India  to  this  day  are  the  Brahma,  the 
gift  of  a  daughter  decked  and  honoured  with  jewels  to  a  man 
learned  in  the  Veda  whom  the  father  himself  invites,  and  the 
Asura,  or  purchase  in  the  modified  form  described. ^ 
Only  in  one  case,  moreover,  does  Manu  recognize  the  free-will 

1  Manu's  eight  forms  of  marriage  and  his  comments  on  them  are  full  of 
instruction  for  the  transition  from  barbaric  to  civilized  marriage  laws. 
The  gift  of  a  daughter,  after  decking  her,  to  a  man  learned  in  the  Veda  and 
of  good  conduct  ...  is  called  the  Brahma  rite.  The  gift  of  a  daughter 
who  has  been  decked  with  ornaments  to  a  priest  .  .  .  tbey  call  the  Daiva 
rite.  "When  (the  father)  gives  away  his  daughter  according  to  the  rule, 
after  receiving  from  the  bridegi'com,  for  (the  fulfilment  of)  the  sacred  law, 
a  cow  and  a  bull  or  two  pairs,  that  is  named  the  Arsha  rite.  The  gift  of  a 
daughter  (by  her  father)  after  he  has  addressed  (the  couple)  with  the  text, 
"  May  both  of  you  perform  together  your  duties,"  ...  is  called  .  .  .  the 
PragSpatya  rite.  When  (the  bridegroom)  receives  a  maiden,  after  having 
given  as  much  wealth  as  he  can  afford  to  the  kinsmen^  and  to  the  bride 
herself,  according  to  his  own  will,  that  is  called  the  Asura  rite.  The 
voluntary  union  of  a  maiden  and  her  lover  one  must  know  (to  be)  the  Gan- 
dharva  rite,  which  springs  from  desire,  and  has  sexual  intercourse  for  its 
purpose.  The  forcible  abduction  of  a  maiden  from  her  home,  while  she 
cries  out  and  weeps,  after  (her  kinsmen)  have  been  slain  or  wounded  and 
(their  houses)  broken  open,  is  called  the  R§,kshasa  rite.  When  (a  man) 
by  stealth  seduces  a  girl  who  is  sleeping,  intoxicated,  or  disordered  in 
intellect,  that  is  the  eighth,  the  most  base  and  sinful  rite  of  the  Pis^kas 
(Manu,  iii.  27-34).  Of  these,  the  first  four  are  allowed  to  ^Brahmans. 
They  are  all,  in  effect,  religious  marriages,  the  gift  in  the  third,  or  Arsha,  form 
being  of  a  ceremonial  character,  as  it  is  to  be  "  for  the  fvilfilment  of  the 
sacred  law,"  not  a  price  for  the  daughter.  A  variant  appears  in  the  code 
of  Apastamba  (II.  vi.  12,  13;  Mayne,  p.  82),  wherein  a  gift  of  value  was 
made  to  the  bride's  parents,  but  returned  by  them.  The  four  blamable 
rites  are  purchase,  capture,  voliuitary  union,  and  treacherous  seduction. 
Of  these,  the  two  first,  as  v.-e  have  seen,  are  allowed  to  the  warrior  caste. 
The  fifth  and  eighth,  the  law  book  of  Bauddhayana  allows  to  Vaisyas  and 
Svidras,  since  they  "  are  not  particular  about  their  wives  "  (Baud.,  I.  ii. 
13,  14).  These  are,  in  the  main,  relics  of  barbarism,  yet  a  higher  con- 
ception appears  when  Bauddhayana  remarks  that  "  some  recommend  the 
G§,ndharva  rite  (i.  e.  voluntary  union)  for  all  castes,  because  it  is  based  on 
mutual  aSeetion  "  (ib.).  Bat  this  germ  of  a  true  marriage  by  mutual 
consent  was  not  allowed  to  fructify. 

*  J.  D.  Mayne,  Hindu  Law  and  Usage,  pp.  79-85. 


190  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

of  the  maiden  in  the  matter  of  her  own  marriage.  If  her  father 
fails  to  provide  her  with  a  husband  within  three  years  of  her 
attaining  maturity  she  may  marry  whom  she  will.^  In  all  other 
cases  her  guardian  disposes  of  her  hand.  The  woman  who  is 
thus  passed  from  the  absolute  control  of  ber  father  into  the 
absolute  control  of  her  husband  must  honour,  obey  and  merge 
herself  in  him.  "  Though  destitute  of  virtue,  or  seeking  pleasure 
(elsewhere),  or  devoid  of  good  qualities,  (yet)  a  husband  must  be 
constantly  worshipped  as  a  god  by  a  faithful  wife."  ^  "  She 
must  always  be  cheerful,  clever  in  (the  management  of  her) 
household  affairs,  careful  in  cleaning  her  utensils,  and  economical 
in  expenditure."  ^  On  his  side  the  husband  is  commanded  to 
show  her  respect.  "  Women  must  be  honoured  and  adorned  by 
their  fathers,  brothers,  husbands,  and  brothers-in-law,  who  desire 
(their  own)  welfare."  *  He  is  to  be  faithful  to  her,  "  being 
constantly  satisfied  with  her  alone."  Her  son  is  even  to  respect 
her  more  than  his  father.  "  The  teacher  is  ten  times  more 
venerable  than  a  sub-teacher,  the  father  a  hundred  times  more 
than  the  teacher,  but  the  mother  a  thousand  times  more  than 
the  father."  ^  And  so  Vasishtha  says,  "  A  father  who  has  com- 
mitted a  crime  causing  loss  of  caste  must  be  cut  off.  But  a 
mother  does  not  become  an  outcast  for  her  son."  ^  But  though 
respected  if  virtuous,  she  is  to  be  chastised  if  the  husband  thinks 
her  otherwise.  The  chastisement,  however,  is  strictly  limited. 
"  A  wife,  a  son,  a  slave,  a  pupil,  and  a  younger  brother  of  the  full 
blood,  who  have  committed  faults,  may  be  beaten  with  a  rope  or 
split  bamboo,  but  on  the  back  part  of  the  body  (only),  never  on  a 
noble  part ;  he  who  strikes  them  otherwise  will  incur  the  same 
guilt  as  a  thief."  '  Here,  as  elsewhere,  fluctuations  of  opinion 
show  through  Manu's  text.  In  one  place  we  read,  "  Day  and 
night  women  must  be  kept  in  dependence  by  the  males  of  their 
families,"  ^  yet  a  few  sections  on  the  appeal  is  to  women  them- 
selves :  "  Women  confined  in  the  house  under  trustworthy  and 
obedient  servants  are  not  (well)  guarded ;  but  those  who  of  their 
own  accord  keep  guard  over  themselves  are  well  guarded."  * 
But  this  higher  note  is  seldom  struck.  The  Brahmans  are  far 
too  much  impressed  with  the  evil  disposition  of  women,^"  and  the 
husband  is  recommended  to  keep  his  wife  well  employed  about 

1  Manu,  ix.  90  ft.  «  Manu,  v.  154.  ^  Manu,  v.  150. 

*  Manu,  iii.  55.  ^  Manu,  ii.  145. 

8  Vasishtha,  xiii.  47,  48.  "  Manu,  viii.  299,  300. 

8  Manu,  ix.  2.  '  INIanu,  ix.  12. 

1"  When  creating  them,  Manu  allotted  to  women  (a  love  of  their)  bed, 
(of  their)  seat  and  (of)  ornament,  impure  desires,  wrath,  dishonesty,  malice, 
and  bad  conduct  (Manu,  ix.  17,  and  see  the  whole  passage,  13-18). 


WOMAN  AND  MARRIAGE  UNDER  CIVILIZATION    191 

the  house  keeping  things  clean  and  preparing  his  food,  as  an 
expedient  for  guarding  her. 

On  the  strict  theory  of  Manu  a  wife  could  have  no  property. 
In  this  respect  she  is  placed  on  one  footing  with  a  son  and  a 
slave.^  The  wife  could  not  leave  her  husband  under  any  circum- 
stances, but  he  might  take  other  wives  and  might  "  supersede  " 
rather  than  divorce  her  if  she  "  drink  spirituous  liquor,  is  of  bad 
conduct,  rebellious,  diseased,  mischievous  or  wasteful."  Further  : 
"  A  barren  wife  may  be  superseded  in  the  eighth  year,  she  whose 
children  all  die  in  the  tenth,  she  who  bears  only  daughters 
in  the  eleventh,  but  she  who  is  quarrelsome  without  delay." 
"  But  a  sick  wife  who  is  kind  to  her  husband  and  virtuous  in 
her  conduct  may  be  superseded  only  with  her  own  consent  and 
must  never  be  disgraced."  ^  There  are,  indeed,  traces  in  the  text 
of  Manu,  on  the  one  hand,  of  a  custom  allowing  deserted  wives 
as  well  as  widows  to  marry  again,  and,  on  the  other,  of  an 
idealistic  attempt  to  establish  indissoluble  monogamous  marriage. 
But  these  remain  as  traces  only.  What  the  Brahmans  actually 
succeeded  in  doing  was  to  prevent  the  re-marriage  of  women 
even  after  the  death  of  their  husbands,  while  men  obtained  the 
right  to  take  as  many  wives  as  they  pleased,  though  they  might 
not  dismiss  any  existing  wives  save  for  one  of  the  faults 
enumerated.^  Such  having  been  the  position  of  the  wife  during 
the  husband's  lifetime,  after  his  death  she  must  remain  faithful 
to  him,  "  she  must  not  even  mention  the  name  of  another  man 

'  This,  however,  is  not  carried  out  consistently  (Manu,  ix.  194). 

2  Manu,  ix.  80-82. 

^  Manu,  always  liberal  in  inconsistencies,  is  more  than  usually  so  on  this 
point.  The  cause,  as  shown  by  J.  D.  Majoie,  is  clearly  mutilation  of  the 
text  in  the  interest  of  conflicting  views.  Thus  in  ix.  46,  47,  we  read  : 
"  Neither  by  sale  nor  by  repudiation  is  a  wife  released  from  her  husband. 
.  .  .  Once  is  the  partition  (of  the  inheritance)  made,  (once  is)  a  maiden 
given  in  marriage,  etc."  From  this  it  is  clear  that  the  repudiated  wife 
could  not  re-marry.  Further,  it  seems  that  the  attempt  was  being  made 
to  impose  monogamy  and  conjugal  fidelity  on  the  husband  as  well.  "  Let 
mutual  fidelity  continue  unto  death,  this  may  be  considered  as  the  summary 
of  the  highest  law  for  husband  and  wife  "  (ix.  101).  Connect  this  with 
V.  168,  "  Having  thus,  at  the  funeral,  given  the  sacred  fires  to  his  wife  who 
dies  before  him,  he  may  marry  again,  and  again  kindle  the  (fires)."  This 
seems  to  imply  monogamy  with  mutual  fidelity  as  the  ideal,  but  in  other 
parts  a  plurality  of  wives  is  freely  contemplated,  and  in  ix.  77-82,  the  dis- 
missal of  a  wife  is  permitted  on  several  conditions  as  shown  in  the  text. 
Fiu-ther,  Mayne  {Hindu  Law  and  Usage,  p.  93)  shows  conclusively  that  a 
passage  has  been  omitted  before  ix.  76,  justifying  a  wife  in  marrying  agam 
after  desertion  for  a  period  of  years.  Thus  we  trace  (1)  a  period  when 
widows  and  deserted  wives  raay  marry  again,  (2)  an  attempt  to  estabhsh 
monogamy.  But  the  net  result  of  this  sacramental  conception  of  marriage, 
impinging  on  actual  law  and  usage,  was,  in  the  Brahmanic  codes,  the 
greatest  liberty  for  the  man,  and  the  most  complete  bondage  for  the  wif^. 


192  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

after  her  husband  has  died."  ^  She  is  now  under  the  tutelage  of 
her  son,  for  a  woman  is  never  a  free  agent.  "  By  a  girl,  by 
a  young  woman,  or  even  by  an  aged  one,  nothing  must  be 
done  independently,  even  in  her  own  house.  In  childhood,  a 
female  must  be  subject  to  her  father,  in  youth  to  her  husband, 
when  her  lord  is  dead  to  her  sons;  a  woman  must  never  be 
independent."  ^ 

The  chastity  of  women  was  to  be  preserved  by  their  seclusion, 
and  their  unfaithfulness  punished  by  their  husbands.  We  hare 
seen  that  in  the  barbaric  world  the  infringement  of  chastity  is 
regarded  mainly  as  an  offence  against  the  woman's  owner.  The 
influence  of  this  conception  is  still  apparent  in  the  Brahmanical 
codes,  which,  in  assigning  punishments  for  seduction  and  adul- 
tery, observe  a  marked  distinction  between  the  cases  where  the 
woman  is  properly  guarded  and  those  in  which  she  is  free  from 
proper  surveillance.^    The  same  conception   had    another  con- 

1  Manu,  V.  157.  On  the  other  hand,  not  only  is  suttee  not  mentioned 
by  Manu,  but  the  original  text  appears,  as  we  have  seen,  to  contemplate 
re-marriage  (see  especially  ix.  175,  176).  Among  the  Jats  of  the  Punjab, 
re-marriage  is  allowed  to  the  deserted  wife  and  to  the  widow ;  in  Western 
India  it  is  allowed  to  the  lower  castes  if  the  husband  is  impotent,  if  the 
parties  are  continually  quarrelling,  or  if,  by  mutual  consent,  the  husband 
breaks  the  wife's  neck  ornament,  or  if  he  deserts  her  for  twelve  years 
(J.  D.  Mayne,  op.  cit.,  94,  95).  Polygamy,  on  the  other  hand,  as  to  which 
the  earlier  text  of  Manu  seems  to  have  wavered,  remains  to  this  day  an 
luidoubted  right.  On  the  whole,  we  may  say  that  nowliere  has  the  sub- 
jection of  women  been  more  complete  than  in  India,  and  Mohammedan 
influence,  far  from  improving  matters,  has  only  furthered  the  practice  ol 
seclusion. 

2  Manu,  v.  147,  148. 

*  For  a  scale  of  penalties  modifiable  according  as  the  ^7oman  is  guarded 
or  not,  see  Manu,  viii.  374  ff. 

On  the  subject  of  legal  pmiishments  and  religious  penances  for  different 
forms  of  immorality,  Manu  is  quite  bewildering  in  his  divergencies  of 
statement,  and  the  case  is  made  worse  if  the  other  Brahmanist  law  books 
are  consulted.  Two  instances  may  sviffice  to  illustrate  the  difificulty  of  ex- 
tracting a  consistent  view.  In  viii.  371,  the  king  is  to  cause  the  adulteress 
to  be  devoiu-ed  by  dogs.  But  in  xi.  177,  "  an  exceedingly  corrupt  wife  " 
is  merely  to  be  confined  to  one  apartment  and  to  perform  the  penance  pre- 
scribed for  males  in  the  case  of  adultery.  Probably  the  explanation  is  that 
the  first  passage,  which  speaks  of  a  wife  "  proud  of  the  greatness  of  her 
relatives,"  lays  down  the  penalty  for  high  caste  women  who  love  men  of 
lower  caste.  This  is  explicitly  stated  in  the  corresponding  passage  of 
Gautama's  code  (xxiii.  14,  15).  But  there  is  nothing  in  Manu  himself  to 
clear  up  the  point.  Again,  in  xi.  59,  intercourse  with  unmarried  maidens 
is  somewhat  strangely  classed  with  the  deadliest  of  all  sins — violation  of 
the  Guru's  (teacher's)  bed — but  in  §  62  it  is  classed  among  minor  oiiences 
causing  loss  of  caste. 

I  shall  not  attempt  to  thread  my  way  through  the  maze,  but  ^ill  note  a 
few  salient  points — 

(1)  Considering  the  low  position  of  women,  the  punishments  of  immoral- 
ity, where  no  caste  complication  ia  involved,  seem  moderate.     It  would 


WOMAN  AND  MARRIAGE  UNDER  CIVILIZATION    193 

sequence,  paradoxical  enough  in  our  eyes.  As  the  husband 
was  the  proprietor  of  the  wife,  he  was  also  the  owner  of  her 
children,  whether  they  were  his  children  after  the  flesh  or  not. 
And  as  children  were  a  desirable  acquisition  for  the  purposes 
both  of  this  world  and  the  next,  it  was  not  unusual  for  a  child- 
less husband  to  compel  his  wife  to  bear  him  a  child  by  another 
man.  In  the  Mahabharata  we  read  that  wives  who  refuse  such 
a  duty  are  guilty  of  sin.  It  was  through  a  similiar  order  of  ideas 
that  if  the  husband  died  childless  his  brother  ^  was  appointed 
to  raise  up  seed  to  him.  This,  of  course,  was  for  religious 
purposes  only.  The  son  of  the  appointed  lover,  on  the  other 
hand,  was  the  son  for  this  world  as  well  as  the  next.  But  with 
the  progress  of  civilization  the  Niyoga,  as  this  custom  was 
called,  gradually  fell  into  discredit  and  made  way  for  a  purer 
conception  of  the  relations  of  husband  and  wife.  It  deserves 
mentioning  here  as  one  of  the  most  remarkable  paradoxes  in  the 
field  of  Comparative  Ethics  that  the  same  teaching  which  insists 
so  strongly  on  the  guardmg  of  women  as  though  the  preservation 
of  their  persons  for  the  benefit  of  their  owners  were  the  sole 
object  of  their  existence,  should  also  say  of  adultery  that  "  men 
who  have  no  marital  property  in  women,  but  sow  their  seed  in 
the  soil  of  others,  benefit  the  owner  of  the  woman."  ^  But  the 
paradox  resolves  itself  into  this,  that  proprietary  right  rather 
than  personal  self-respect  and  love  is  deemed  the  basis  of  con- 
jugal obligation.  Property  is  more  than  personality,  and  it  is 
precisely  this  that  is  characteristic  of  Oriental  as,  on  the  whole, 
of  primitive  marriage. 

4.  Turning  from  India  to  China,  we  do  not  find  much  change 
in  the  position  of  the  woman.     The  arrangement  of  marriage 

seem  as  though  but  little  responsibility  were  attached  to  the  woman.  Thus 
the  maiden  who  makes  advances  to  a  man  of  high  caste  is  not  to  be  fined, 
only  if  he  is  of  lower  caste  is  she  to  be  confined  to  her  house  (viii.  365). 

(2)  A  low-caste  seducer  suffered  corporal  punishment.  One  of  equal 
caste  had  to  pa.y  the  nuptial  fee  if  demanded  by  the  woman's  father. 

(3)  Adultery  and  fornication  apjDear  as  religious  offences  (xi.  59  seq.). 

(4)  The  hiisband's  right  to  kill  an  unfaithfiil  wife  is  substantially  recog- 
nized— the  penance  required  being  only  to  give  a  leathern  bag,  a  bow,  a 
goat,  or  a  sheep,  according  to  her  caste  (Manu,  xi.  139). 

^  The  Levirate  is  usually  connected  with  the  principle  that  the  widnw 
belongs  to  her  husband's  family,  and  probably  this  was  its  h,t  rn  ; 
in  India.  But  in  Manu  it  rests  on  religious  considerations  and  is  u  , 
to  the  dimensions  necessary  for  religious  purposes.  The  brother  must  only 
cohabit  with  the  widow  so  far  as  it  is  necessary  for  tlie  purpose  of  raising  up 
seed  to  his  brother  (Manu,  ix.  60),  and  the  whole  practice  is  forbidden  in 
the  passage  64-68,  which  contradicts  the  clauses  permitting  the  Niyoga. 

*  Manu,  ix.  51. 
O 


194  MOHALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

is  in  the  hands  of  the  parents,  and  the  son  is  as  much  at  their 
disposal  as  the  daughter,^ 

"  Young  people,"  says  the  Editor  of  the  She-King,'^  "  and 
especially  young  ladies,  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  business  of 
getting  married.  Their  parents  will  see  to  it.  They  have  to 
merely  v/ait  for  their  orders.  If  they  do  not  do  so,  but  rush  to 
marriage  on  the  impulse  of  their  own  desires  and  preferences, 
they  transgress  the  rules  of  heaven  and  violate  the  law  of  their 
lot."  The  marriage  is,  in  fact,  arranged  by  go-betweens  who 
form  a  kind  of  profession,  and  as  it  is  now,  so  was  it  perhaps 
three  thousand  years  ago  in  the  days  of  the  She-King.'^ 

The  full  ceremony  of  marriage  is,  as  a  rule,  gone  through  with 
only  one  woman;  bigamy  or  the  raising  of  a  concubine  to  the 
rank  of  wife  is  punished  by  ninety  blows*  (unless  in  certain 
exceptional  cases),  but  there  are  secondary  wives  or  concubines 
who  owe  obedience  to  the  first  wife,  and  it  is  a  point  much 
insisted  on  in  the  classical  books  that  the  head  wife  should 
show  no  jealousy  of  her  inferiors.^ 

^  Chinese  travellers  note  relics  of  marriage  by  capture  in  the  ceremonial 
and  point  out  that  the  ideograph  for  slave  is  compovinded  of  "  woman  "  and 
"  hand,"  implying  that  the  woman  is  the  type  of  that  which,  in  the  phrase 
of  the  Koran,  "  your  right  hand  possesses."  Further,  to  marry  a  wife  is 
written  "  to  take  a  woman,"  while  to  marry  a  man  has  a  different  symbol 
(Douglas,  Society  in  China,  202).  In  this  connection  note  that  the  imperial 
editors,  writing  on  the  She-King,  Part  I.  Book  I.  Ode  2,  speak  of  a  strict 
taboo  on  the  relation  of  husband  and  wife  in  antiquity.  "  Anciently 
the  rules  to  be  observed  between  husband  and  wife  required  the  greatest 
circumspection.  They  did  not  speak  directly  to  each  other,  but  employed 
internuncios,  thvis  showing  how  strictly  reserved  sliould  be  intercourse 
between  men  and  women,  and  preventins;  all  disrespectful  familiarity  " 
(Legge,  The  She-King,  Part  I.  Book  I.  Ode  2,  p.  7  note). 

*  Book  IV.  Ode  7,  Stanza  3,  note. 

"   "  How  do  we  proceed  in  taking  a  wife  ? 

Announcement  must  first  be  made  to  our  parents. 
Since  such  aiuiouncement  was  made, 
Why  do  you  still  indulge  her  desires  ?  .  .  . 
How  do  we  proceed  in  taking  a  wife  ? 
Without  a  go-between  it  cannot  bo  done." 

She-King,  Book  Vlil.  Ode  6,  Sts.  3,  4. 
'  Fornication  is  punished  with  eighty  blows,  and  the  pander  is  liable 
to  seventy  (Alabaster,  Notes  and  Commentaries  on  Chinese  Criminal  Law, 
p.  367). 

*  Writing  of  the  She-King,  Dr.  Legge  says  :  "  The  institution  of  the 
harem  is  very  prominent,  and  there  the  wife  appears  lovely  on  her  entering 
into  it,  reigning  in  it  with  entire  devotion  to  her  husband's  happiness,  free 
from  all  jealoiisy  of  the  inferior  inmates,  in  the  most  friendly  spirit 
promoting  their  comfort  and  setting  them  an  example  of  frugality  and 
industry.  It  is  apparently  to  these  inferior  inmates  that  the  concluding 
verse  of  an  Ode  expressing  the  affectionate  devotion  of  a  wife,  alludes — 

"  Wlieu  jour  arrows  and  line  have  found  them, 
I  will  dress  them  fitly  for  you  .  .  . 


WOIVIAN  AND  MARRIAGE  UNDER  CIVILIZATION    195 

The  Chinese  husband  is  master  in  his  own  household,  the 
patria  potestas  is  strongly  developed,  and  the  state  interferes 
inside  the  family  only  in  extreme  cases. ^  The  husband  may 
kill  his  wife  if  taken  in  adultery ;  ^  he  may  strike  her  without 
wounding  her,^  whereas  she  receives  a  hundred  blows  for 
striking  him ;  *  while  if,  for  abuse  of  his  parents,  he  so  punishes 
her  as  to  cause  her  death,  he  receives  a  hundred  blows.  He 
may  sell  his  wife,^  and  sometimes  does  so  in  times  of  famine, 
he  may  divorce  her  for  barrenness,  lasciviousness,  disregard  of 
his  parents,  talkativeness,  thievish  propensities,  envious  and 
suspicious  temper,  and  inveterate  infirmity.  She,  on  the  other 
hand,  has  no  power  of  divorcing  him,^  but  at  best  may  arrange 
to  part  by  mutual  consent.' 

The  power  of  the  husband  does  not  end  with  the  dissolution 
of  marriage;  if  he  makes  formal  complaint  of  the  commission 
of  bigamy  by  his  wife,  she  is  strangled.  After  the  husband's 
death  the  widow  still  owes  him  a  duty.  There  is  no  definite 
institution  of  suttee,  but  contemporary  authorities  tell  us  that 
the  suicide  of  widov/s  is  frequent,  and  in  the  south  often  public, 
and  turning  back  to  the  classical  books,  we  find  the  widov/ 
professing  life-long  chastity  and  devotion  to  the  memory  of 
the  departed.^     Hence  it  is  intelligible  that  women  frequently 

Wlien  I  know  those  whose  acquaintance  you  wish, 

I  will  give  them  of  the  orn8.ments  of  my  girdle. 

Wlien  I  know  those  with  whom  you  are  cordial, 

I  will  send  to  them  of  the  ornaments  of  my  girdle. 

Wlien  I  know  those  whom  you  love, 

I  will  repay  their  friendship  from  the  ornaments  of  my  girdle." 

She-King,  Part  I.  Book  VII.  Ode  8. 
^  Douglas,  78.  A  father  who  kills  his  son  without  cause  is  subject  to  a 
light  penalty.  If  he  kills  him  for  striking  or  abusing  his  parents,  he  goes 
free  (Alabaster,  156).  The  father  may  require  the  courts  to  order  the 
transportation  of  an  unruly  son  {ib.,  ISl),  and  a  child  may  be  sold  for  good 
cause  {ib.,  157). 

2  But  it  must  be  done  on  the  spot.  Otherwise  he  is  liable  to  a  mitigated 
penalty  (Alabaster,  187,  188). 

*  But  he  must  exercise  judgment  in  correcting  her.  "  If  he  knocks  her 
brains  out  when  told  by  his  mother-in-law  to  give  her  a  whipping,  he  will 
be  responsible  for  the  murder  "  {ib.,  189). 

*  Douglas,  81.  If  the  husband  kills  her  for  striking  him  or  his  parents, 
extenuating  circiunstances  are  allowed.  For  killing  the  wife  without 
cause,  the  penalty  is  strangulation  subject  to  revision  (Alabaster,  186). 
For  killing  the  husband  it  is  decapitation,  a  severer  punishment  because 
it  effects  the  after-hfe  {ib.,  192). 

^  By  practice,  not,  unless  in  exceptional  circiunstances,  by  strict  law. 
It  she  conunits  suicide  in  consequence,  he  is  liable  to  three  years'  trans- 
portation (Alabaster,  189). 

*  Unless  it  is  for  impotence  {ib.,  182).  '  Douglas,  71. 

'  "  It  floats  about,  that  boat  of  cypress  wood. 
There  in  the  middle  of  the  Ho, 


196  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

prefer  a  nunnery  or  suicide  to  marriage.  And  yet  the  love  of 
home  and  yearning  for  absent  wife  and  child  is,  we  are  told, 
no  infrequent  theme  of  Chinese  poetry.  Such  is  the  power  of 
human  feeling  to  survive  all  laws  and  institutions. 

The  position  of  Chinese  women  has  not  undergone  any  funda- 
mental change  within  the  historical  period.  Perhaps  in  some 
respects   it   has  deteriorated.^     In   jp^rticular,  the    binding   of 

With  his  two  tufts  of  hair  faUing  over  his  forelicad. 

He  was  my  mate, 

And  I  swear  that  till  death  I  have  will  no  other. 

O  mother,  O  Heaven, 

Why  will  you  not  understand  me  ? 

It  floats  about,  that  boat  of  cypress  wood, 

There  by  the  side  of  the  Ho, 

With  his  two  tufts  of  hair  falling  over  his  forehead. 

He  was  my  only  one. 

And  I  swear  that  till  death  I  will  not  do  the  evil  thing. 

O  mother,  O  Heaven, 

Why  will  you  not  understand  me  ?  " 

She-King,  Part  I.  Book  IV.  Ode  1. 
Cf.  Douglas,  216,  etc.  The  sacrifice  of  wives  at  the  death  of  the  em 
peror  was  abolished  by  Kanghksi  1661-1721  (Douglas,  227).  Hiunan 
sacrifice  at  funerals  (chiefly  of  women)  appears  intermittently  from  the 
first  recorded  case  (that  of  Wu,  ruler  of  Tsin,  677  B.C.,  when  sixty-six 
people  were  sacrificed)  to  the  present  time.  It  was  opposed  by  the  Con- 
fucians. In  the  eighteenth  century  suttee  was  on  the  increase,  and  to 
check  it  the  honours  conferred  on  the  suttee  women  revoked,  a.d.  1729 
(De  Groot,  Religious  Systems  of  China,u.  721-807).  De  Groot  considers  it 
incredible  that  tlie  case  of  Wu  should  really  have  been  the  first.  Possibly 
he  was  the  first  of  his  house  to  be  so  "  honoured." 

1  The  She-King  describes  the  difference  of  attitude  to  the  infant  son  and 
daughter  in  terms  which  are  exactly  reproduced  to-day — 

"  Sons  shall  be  born  to  him ; 
They  will  be  put  to  sleep  on  couches ; 
They  will  be  clothed  in  robes ; 
They  will  have  sceptres  to  play  with ; 
Their  cry  will  be  loud. 

They  will  be  (hereafter)  resplendent  with  red  knee-coverrj^ 
The  (future)  king,  the  princes  of  the  land. 

Daughters  shall  be  born  to  him ; 

They  will  be  put  to  sleep  on  the  ground ; 

They  will  be  clothed  with  wrappers ; 

They  will  have  tiles  to  play  with. 

It  will  be  theirs  neither  to  do  wrong  nor  to  do  good. 

Only  about  the  spirits  and  the  food  will  they  have  to  think, 

And  to  cause  no  sorrow  to  their  parents." 

She-King,  Part  II.  Book  IV.  Ode  5,  Sts.  8,  9. 
In  point  of  fact  the  lot  of  the  infant  daughter  was  often  mvich  worse. 
The  extent  of  infanticide  in  China  has  undoubtedly  been  exaggerated. 
The  killing  even  of  illegitimate  children  after,  though  not  at  birth,  is  an 
offence,  though  but  lightly  punished  (Alabaster,  170).  The  practice, 
however,  is  frequent  in  many  districts,  and  it  is  the  daughter  who  is 
ordinarily  the  sufferer. 


WOMAN  AND  MARRIAGE  UNDER  CIVILIZATION    197 

feet  has  grown  up  within  the  last  thousand  years,  a  mush- 
room growth  in  the  antiquity  of  China.^  The  great  teachers, 
though  personally  married  to  one  wife,  and  having  no  concu- 
bines, did  nothing  for  the  amelioration  of  the  position  of  women. 
Mencius,  indeed,  proposed  to  divorce  his  wife  because  he  found 
lier  in  a  squatting  position  on  the  floor  of  her  room,  and  was 
only  restrained  by  his  mother's  advice  from  doing  so.  This 
same  mother  expressed  the  whole  duty  of  Chinese  women  when 
she  refused  to  be  consulted  as  to  where  they  should  live.  She 
said,  "  It  does  not  belong  to  a  woman  to  determine  anything  of 
herself,  but  she  is  subject  to  the  rule  of  the  three  obediences : 
when  young  she  has  to  obey  her  parents,  when  married  her 
husband,  and  when  a  widow  her  son." 

It  only  remains  to  add  that  where  men  keep  women  in  so 
much  subjection  they  generally  impute  to  them  a  double  dose 
of  original  sin,  a,nd  the  She-King,  chiming  in  with  the  literature 
of  the  Hebrews  a,nd  Hindoos,  sa,ys,  "  Disorder  does  not  come 
down  from  heaven,  it  is  produced  by  the  woman.  Those  from 
whom  come  no  lessons,  no  instruction,  are  women  and  eunuchs."  ^ 

5.  The  Hebrew  marriage  law  begms  when  we  first  come  across 
it  in  the  fully-developed  patriarchal  stage.  The  analogy  of  primi- 
tive Arabian  tribes  suggests  an  earlier  state  of  mother-right,  but 
of  this  there  are  in  the  Old  Testament  only  the  merest  traces.^ 
A  man  acquires  a  wife  by  purchase  or  by  service,  from  her 
father  or  her  nearest  male  relative.^  In  either  case  she  passes 
completely  out  of  her  father's  family,  and  belongs  to  him  who 
has  paid  for  her.  "  Is  there  yet  any  portion  or  inheritance  for 
us  in  our  father's  house  ?  "  say  Leah  and  Rachel.  "  Are  we  not 
counted  of  him  strangers  ?  for  he  hath  sold  us  and  hath  also 
quite  devoured  the  price  paid  for  us."  ^ 

This  very  neat  summary  of  the  theory  of  marriage  by  service 
has  already  been  referred  to.     But  the  marriage  affairs  of  Jacob 

'■  Yet  there  is  an  objection  to  the  bamboo  as  a  penalty  for  women,  and 
ii  subjected  to  it,  they  are  not  stripped  as  they  were  in  England  to  the 
beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century  (Alabaster,  op.  cit.,  107). 

2  She-King,  Part  III.  Book  III.  Ode  10,  St.  3. 

*  It  is  clear  that  Sarah  was  really  Abraham's  half-sister,  and  his  marriage 
to  his  father's  daughter  would  be  in  accordance  with  primitive  custom 
under  mother-right. 

*  Laban  apparently  gives  away  Rebecca,  his  sister,  and  both  he  and  her 
inotiier  receive  precious  things  for  lier.  At  the  same  time  Rebecca's  own 
wishes  clearly  are  considered. 

^  Gen.  xxxi.  14.  Mr.  Cook,  however,  suggests  that  their  complaint  is 
that  Laban  has  kept  that  which  should  have  come  to  them  (cf.  supra,  p.  15  'r, 
note  1). 


198  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

illustrate  some  further  points  which  we  ca,n  understand  well 
from  the  Bab3donia.n  code.  Part  of  the  agreement  between  him 
and  Laban  is  that  he  shall  not  "  afflict  "  Laban's  daughters,  and 
that  he  shall  not  "  take  wives  beside  my  daughters."  ^  This 
is  quite  in  the  spirit  of  a  Babylonish  marriage  contract.  But 
there  is  a  further  point  of  similarity.  Though  Jacob  took  no 
more  wives,  each  of  his  two  wives  gave  him  a  handmaid  precisely 
as  is  contemplated  in  the  Code  of  Hammurabi,  and  the  hand- 
maid's children  were  in  each  case  reckoned  to  the  wife.  In 
Hammurabi's  language,  "  the  wife  had  granted  him  the  children." 

Polygamy  is  contemplated  in  the  Law,  the  only  limitation 
being  that  in  the  Priestly  Code  two  sisters  are  not  to  be  married 
at  the  same  time.  Concubinage  is  also  contemplated,  and  so  is 
the  sale  of  a  daughter  for  that  purpose.  The  daughter  that  is 
sold  is  especially  protected  in  the  Book  of  the  Covenant.  She 
is  not  to  be  set  free  in  the  Sabbatical  je&T,  but  if  she  "  please 
not  her  master  who  hath  espoused  her  to  himself,  then  shall  he 
let  her  be  redeemed;  to  sell  her  unto  a  strange  people  he  shall 
have  no  power."  If  a  girl  were  espoused  to  his  son  she  should 
be  dealt  with  "  after  the  manner  of  daughters,"  or  if  married 
to  her  master  she  was  protected  in  case  he  took  another  wife. 
"  Her  food,  her  raiment  and  her  duty  in  marriage  shall  he  not 
diminish."  In  the  humane  code  of  Deuteronomy  protection 
is  even  extended  to  the  captive  bondwoman.  She  is  to  be 
allowed  a  full  month  for  mourning  before  being  married,  and 
once  married,  "  if  thou  have  no  delight  in  her  then  thou  shalt 
let  her  go  whither  she  will,  but  thou  shalt  not  sell  her  at  all  for 
money,  thou  shalt  not  deal  with  her  as  a  chattel  because  thou 
hast  humbled  her." 

While  there  is  no  proliibition  of  polygamy  in  the  Law — 
Deuteronomy  merely  states  that  the  children  of  the  better-loved 
wife  are  not  to  be  preferred  to  the  first-born — in  practice,  as 
among  the  Egyptians,  the  custom  seems  to  have  died  out  little 
by  little, 2  and  in  the  Proverbs  monogamy  seems  to  be  assumed 
throughout.  The  right  of  divorce  rested  entirely  with  the 
man,  and  the  grounds  of  it  in  Deuteronomy  are  very  vaguely 
expressed.  "  If  she  find  no  favour  in  his  eyes  because  he  hath 
found  some  unseemely  thing  in  her,  he  shall  write  her  a  bill  of 
divorcement."  But  none  of  the  codes  are  at  pains  to  define  the 
grounds  of  divorce  clearly.  They  assume  it  as  a  riglit  of  the 
husba.nd,  and  their  careless  expressions  have  given  grounds  for 

^  Gen.  xxxi.  50. 

^  Apparently  it  was  not  formally  forbidden  till  the  tenth  century  a.d. 
(Bryce,  Studies,  ii.  384). 


WOMAN  AND  MARRIAGE  UNDER  CIVILIZATION    199 

much  difference  of  interpretation  which  has  affected  Christian 
as  well  as  Jewish  Law.^ 

There  is  no  mention  in  the  Law  of  divorce  by  the  wife,  but 
among  the  later  Jews  she  could  claim  a  divorce  if  her  husband 
were  a  leper,  or  afflicted  by  a  pol3^pus,  or  engaged  in  a  repulsive 
trade. 2 

The  position  of  the  woman  in  the  family  gives  her  guardian 
certain  definite  rights  and  duties  as  to  the  disposal  of  her  person. 
Thus  Judah,  as  the  head  of  the  family,  proposes  to  burn  Tamar, 
his  daughter-in-law,  for  unchastity,  but  acknowledges  in  time  that 
he  was  bound  to  give  her  as  a  widow  of  his  son  Onan  to  his 
other  son  Shelah,  The  husband's  brother,  in  fact,  had  the  duty 
of  marrying  the  widow,  and,  failing  the  brother,  the  obligation 
fell  on  the  kindred.  Boaz,  as  Ruth's  kinsman,  first  offers  her 
to  a  nearer  relative,  and  on  his  refusal  weds  her  himself.  The 
daughter  does  not  inherit  landed  property  if  there  are  sons, 
but  failing  sons,  she  becomes  the  heir,  and  in  that  case  she 
must  marry  within  the  tribe,  a  recognition  of  the  eminent 
ownership  of  the  tribe  over  the  whole  land. 

Such  being  the  position  of  women,  it  is  not  to  be  expected 
that  the  attitude  expressed  to  them  in  literature  should  be  one 
of  great  respect  or  admiration.     At  best  their  virtues  as  house- 

^  Of  the  Jewish  Legahsts  the  school  of  Shammai  (first  century  B.C.), 
pressing  the  word  "  nakedness,"  which  is  the  most  hteral  rendering  of  the 
term  translated  "unseemly,"  understood  it  of  unchastity;  the  school  of 
Hillel,  pressing  (in  Rabbinical  fashion)  the  word  "  thing,"  and  the  clause, 
"  if  she  find  no  favour  in  his  eyes  "  (though  this,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  is 
qualified  by  the  followmg  worde,  "  because  he  hath  found  some  unseemly 
thing  in  her  "),  supposed  the  most  trivial  causes  to  be  included,  declaring, 
for  instance,  that  a  wife  might  be  divorced,  even  if  she  burnt  her  husband's 
food,  or  if  he  saw  a  woman  who  pleased  him  better.  It  may  be  doubted, 
however,  how  far  the  latter  opinion  was  literally  acted  upon.  The  grounds 
mentioned  in  the  Mishnah  as  justifying  divorce  are,  violation  of  the  law  of 
Moses,  or  of  the  Jewish  customs,  the  former  being  said  to  consist  in  a 
woman's  causing  her  husband  to  eat  food  on  which  titlie  has  not  been  paid ; 
in  causing  him  to  offend  against  the  law  of  Lev.  xviii.  19;  in  not  setting 
apart  the  first  of  the  dough.  Num.  xv.  20  ff.,  and  in  failing  to  perform  any 
vow  which  she  has  made ;  and  the  latter  in  appearing  in  public  with 
dishevelled  hair,  spinning  (and  exposing  her  arms)  in  the  streets,  and 
conversing  indiscriminately  with  men,  to  which  others  added,  speaking 
disrespectfully  of  her  husband's  parents  in  his  presence,  or  brawling  in  his 
house.  The  Karaite  Jews  limited  the  grounds  of  divorce  more  exclusively 
to  offences  agauist  modesty  or  good  taste,  a  change  of  religion,  serious 
bodily  defects,  and  repulsive  complaints.  That  the  Hebrew  word  denotes 
something  short  of  actual  unchastity  may  be  inferred  from  the  fact  that 
for  this  a  different  penalty  is  enacted,  viz.  death,  also  the  same  expres- 
sion is  used,  not  of  what  is  immoral,  but  only  of  wliat  is  unbecoming. 
It  is  most  natural  to  vmderstand  it  of  immodest  or  indecent  behaviour 
(summarized  from  Driver,  Deuteronomy,  p.  270  note). 

2  Driver,  p.  271. 


200  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

wives  were  admitted,  but  in  the  famous  description  of  the 
virtuous  hovisewife  in  the  Proverbs  there  is  not  a  word  of  a 
union  of  mind  or  soul,  and  there  is  little  indeed  to  differentiate 
the  wife  from  the  cheerful,  active,  intelligent  and,  let  us  add, 
charitable  housekeeper.  We  read  that  "  she  spreadeth  out  her 
hands  to  the  poor,"  and  again,  "  she  openeth  her  mouth  with 
wisdom  and  the  law  of  kindness  is  on  her  tongue,"  but  there 
is  no  word  of  the  romance  of  love  or  of  the  higher  side  of  the 
conjugal  relation.^ 

On  the  other  side  of  the  account  woman  is  regarded  as  the 
source  of  evil.  "  Give  me  any  wickedness  save  the  wickedness  of 
a  woman  "  is  the  burden  of  Ecclesiasticus.  A  bad  woman  is  the 
temptress  and  the  destroyer  throughout  the  Wisdom  literature, 
and  it  was  through  woman  that  sin  came  into  the  world,  and  for 
this  reason,  that  she  was  to  be  subject  to  her  husband.^ 

6,  We  have  seen  that  among  the  primitive  Arabs  mother-right 
and  polyandrous  unions  prevailed,  but  in  Mohammed's  time  the 
women  were  mere  chattels,  forming  a  part  of  the  estate  of  their 
husband  or  father  and  descending  to  the  son.  They  were  held 
in  low  account,  and  female  infants  were  frequently  put  to  death. 
"  Women  are  the  whips  of  Satan  "  is  an  amiable  saying  of  the 
masculine  Arab  of  this  period,  having  said  wliich  it  is  not  sur- 
prising that  he  should  add  :  "A  man  can  bear  anything  but 
the  mention  of  his  wives."  Mohammed  set  himself  to  ameliorate 
the  position  of  women.  "  Ye  men,"  he  said,  "  ye  have  rights 
over  your  wives,  and  your  wives  have  rights  over  you."  But  he 
was  not  able  to  carry  his  reforms  very  far  according  to  our  ideas. 
He  limited  the  number  of  legitimate  Vt?ives  to  four,  but  allowed 
an  unlimited  number  of  slave  conciibines ;  he  insisted  that  the 
woman's  consent  to  her  marriage  should  be  obtained,  but  the 
consent  of  her  guardian  also  remained  essential.  Whether 
the  temporary  marriage  in  practice  in  Mohammed's  time  is  still 
allowed  is  debated  between  the  sects.^ 

But  free  divorce  Mohammed  was  compelled  to  tolerate  :  "  The 
thing  which  is  lawful  but  is  disliked  by  God  is  divorce."  There 
are,  indeed,  certain  cases  in  which  divorce  is  compulsory,*  but 
even  apart  from  them  the  husband  may  divorce  his  wife  v/ithout 

^  It  is  probably  another  writer  in  the  Book  of  Proverbs  who  says  that 
"  a  virtuous  woman  is  a  crown  to  her  husband  "  (Prov.  xii.  4). 

-  Mr.  Montefiore  points  out  that  the  appreciation  of  a  good  woman  ia 
higher  in  the  "  Wisdom  of  the  Son  of  Sirach  "  than  in  the  Proverbs,  in 
correspondence  with  the  general  advance  in  her  position  {Hibbert  Lectures, 
1892,  p.  491). 

»  Hughes,  Dictionary  of  Islam,  p.  314,  '-  Hughes,  pp.  87,  88. 


WOMAN  AND  MARRIAGE  UNDER  CIVILIZATION    201 

assigning  any  cause.  The  wife,  however,  is  protected  by  the 
dower,  or  more  strictly,  the  bride  price,  of  which  a  portion  is 
deferred,  and  which  may  be  claimed  by  the  wife  if  she  is  divorced 
without  cause. ^  Her  position  is  therefore  somewhat  similar 
to  that  which  the  provident  Babylonian  or  Egj^ptian  woman 
secured  for  herself  by  the  marriage  contract.  On  her  side,  the 
wife  is  bound  to  live  with  her  husband,  but  if  she  can  prove 
ill-treatment,  can  obtain  a  separation  from  the  Kadi.  Bad  con- 
duct or  gross  neglect  is  a  good  defence  to  a  suit  brought  by  the 
husband  for  the  restitution  of  conjugal  rights.^  The  husband 
has,  however,  the  right  of  chastisement,  and  the  admonition  of 
the  prophet,  "  Not  one  of  you  must  whip  his  wife  like  whipping 
a  slave,"  does  not,  to  European  ears,  appear  to  err  on  the  side 
of  chivalry.^ 

Yet  Mohammed  made  the  kind  and  equitable  treatment  of 
wives  a  moral  if  not  a  legal  duty  :  "  The  best  of  you  is  he  who 
behaves  best  to  his  wives."  The  lord  of  many  women  must  be 
impartial.  "  When  a  man  has  two  wives  and  does  not  trea-t 
them  equally  he  will  come  on  the  day  of  resurrection  with  half 
of  his  body  fallen  off."  But  if  there  is  to  be  kindness,  it  is  to 
be  such  as  is  due  to  the  weaker  vessel :  "  Admonish  your  wives 
with  kindness,  because  women  were  created  from  the  crooked 
bone  of  the  side."  ^ 

The  position  of  the  wife  under  the  Sunni  law  is  thus  summed 
up  by  Mr.  Hughes — 

"  Her  consent  to  marriage  is  necessary.  She  cannot  legally 
object  to  be  one  of  four  wives.  Nor  can  she  object  to  an  unlimited 
number  of  handmaids.  She  is  entitled  to  a  marriage  settlement  or 
dower,  which  must  be  paid  to  her  in  case  of  divorce  or  separation. 
She  may,  however,  remit  either  whole  or  part  of  the  dower.  She 
may  refuse  to  join  her  husband  until  the  dower  is  paid.  She 
may  be  at  any  time,  with  or  without  cause,  divorced  by  her 

1  ib.,  91.  2  ;.'•.,  673. 

"  The  traditions  record  that  the  iDrophet  forbade  the  Moslems  to  beat 
th.eir  wives.  Brute  force  being  thus  ruled  out,  natural  superiority  asserts 
itself,  and  the  faithful  come  to  complain  that  the  women  have  got  the 
upper  hand.  The  prophet  consequently  revokes  the  order,  and  then  the 
women  complain  in  their  turn.  Mohammed  is  then  reduced  to  moral 
suasion  :  "  Those  men  who  beat  their  wives  do  not  behave  well.  He  is  not 
of  my  way,  who  teaches  a  woman  to  go  astray  and  entices  a  slave  from  his 
master  "■  (Hughes,  671). 

*  A  wife  taken  in  adultery  might  be  stoned,  but  four  witnesses  with  a 
tivefold  repetition  of  the  oath  were  required  to  prove  the  offence  (Koran, 
Part  I.  chap.  iv.  15).  Nor  is  the  death-penalty  reconmnended,  but  rather 
seclusion  in  the  house  (loc.  cit.,  and  Hughes,  p.  11).  Fornication  is 
atrictly  forbidden  to  men. 


202  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

husband.  She  may  seek  or  claim  divorce  (khiil')  from  het 
husband  with  her  husband's  consent.  She  may  be  chastised 
by  her  husband.  She  cannot  give  evidence  in  a  court  of  law 
against  her  husband.  According  to  the  Sunnis,  her  evidence  in 
favour  of  her  husband  is  not  admissible,  but  the  Shi'ahs  maintain 
the  opposite  view.  Her  husband  can  demand  her  seclusion 
from  public.  If  she  becomes  a  widow  she  must  observe  hidad 
or  mourning  for  the  space  of  four  months  and  ten  days.  In  the 
event  of  her  husband's  death  she  is  entitled  to  a  portion  of  her 
husband's  estate  in  addition  to  her  claim  of  dower,  the  claim  of 
dower  taking  precedence  of  all  other  claims  on  the  estate."  ^ 

Nor  has  a  woman  full  legal  privileges  outside  marriage.  Her 
evidence  is  not  accepted  in  cases  involving  retaliation.  Her 
fine  is  one-half  that  of  a  man,  and  the  value  of  her  testimony 
one-half  that  of  a  male  witness.  Yet  she  may  hold  public 
positions,  she  may  act  as  a  judge  except  where  retaliation  is 
involved,  and  in  some  Mohammedan  states  princesses  have  ruled. 
She  can  hold  property,  retains  the  usufruct  of  her  property 
during  marriage,  and  takes  the  property  with  her  in  case  of 
divorce.  She  has  also  a  claim  to  inherit  along  with  her  male 
relations,  confirmed  by  the  express  words  of  the  prophet. ^  She 
is  not  to  be  slain  in  war,  and  for  apostasy  she  is  not  put  to  death, 
but  imprisoned  until  she  recants.  The  general  attitude  of 
the  Mohammedan  world  towards  her  is  too  well  known  to  need 
illustration,  but  two  traditional  sayings  of  Mohammed  may 
be  quoted  as  illuntinating  the  intellectual  chaos  to  which  a 
well-meaning  man  is  reduced  when  he  contemplates  that  help- 
mate over  whom  he  so  complacently  assumes  superiority  and 
dominion.  The  first  is  this,  "  I  have  not  left  any  calamity  more 
detrimental  to  mankind  than  women,"  and  the  second  is  the 
complementary  expression  of  the  master  in  his  other  mood, 
"  The  world  and  all  things  in  it  are  valuable,  but  more  valuable 
than  all  is  a  virtuous  woman." 

With  this  final  contradiction  mirrored  in  the  double  motive 
for  secluding  women,  (a)  as  a  compliment,  implying  that  they 
are  elevated  above  the  ordinary  affairs  of  life;  (6)  as  a  pre- 
caution, implying  that  they  are  not  to  be  trusted  with  liberty — 
with  this  contradiction  in  theory  and  in  practice,  rooted  as  it  is 
in  a  radically'  false  view  of  womanhood,  we  vaay  leave  the  Oriental 
world  and  its  efforts  to  deal  with  the  relations  of  the  sexes. 

7.  But  the  first  nation  of  the  West  to  which  we  turn  was  in 
this  respect  largely  orientalized.     The  Greeks  founded  Western 

s  Hughes,  p.  671.  »  Koran,  i.  72;  cf.  Dareste,  pp.  61-63. 


WOMAN  AND  MARRIAGE  UNDER  CIVILIZATION    203 

civilization,  but  their  rapid  advance  in  general  culture  was  by 
no  means  accompanied  by  a  corresponding  improvement  in  the 
position  of  women.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  in  the  earliest  period 
and  among  some  of  the  most  backward  states  that  the  woman 
has  most  freedom. 

The  Homeric  woman  moves  freely  among  men.  Nausicaa 
welcomes  Odysseus  and  brings  him  to  her  father's  house.  She 
bids  him  kneel  to  her  mother  if  he  would  gain  a  welcome  and 
succour  from  her  father.^  The  relation  of  husband  and  wife  is 
close  and  tender;  Andromache  relates  how  her  father's  house 
has  been  destroyed  with  all  that  were  in  it,  "  but  now.  Hector, 
thou  art  my  father  and  gracious  mother,  thou  art  my  brother — 
nay,  thou  art  my  valiant  husband."  ^ 

We  never  hear  of  more  than  one  legitimate  wife.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  carrying  off  of  women  as  bond-slaves  was  habi- 
tual. Briseis  was  a  recognized  portion  of  the  spoil,  and  such 
capture  implies  concubinage  along  with  legitimate  marriage.^ 
If  the  bridegroom  could  not  take  the  bride  in  a  raid,  he  bought 
her  for  a  goodly  number  of  cattle,  and  over  his  concubines,  at 
any  rate,  he  exercised  powers  of  life  and  death.  Odysseus 
compels  the  faithless  handmaidens  to  carry  forth  the  bodies  of 
the  suitors  and  bids  Telemachus  put  them  to  the  sword;  but 
Telemachus  thinks  this  too  good  a  death,  and  strings  them  up 
to  a  ship's  cable  in  the  hall,  where  they  hang  struggling  like 
thrushes  in  a  net.^ 

The  patria  potcjfus  persisted  in  a  mild  form  in  the  historical 
period.^  The  father  was  the  religious  and  legal  head  of  the 
family;    he  performed  the  family  sacra,  and  represented  wife, 

^  At  the  same  time  Arete's  position  seems  to  have  been  somewhat 
exceptional,  for  Alcinous  honoured  her  as  no  other  woman  in  the  world 
is  honoured  of  all  tliat  nowadays  keep  house  iinder  the  hand  of  their 
lords  (Odyssey,  VII,  ]3utcher  and  Lang  Tr.,  p.  105).  Was  this  an  explana- 
tion needed  by  the  audience  of  a  later  age  ? 

2  Iliad,  VI.  429,  430. 

"  Yet  the  wife  might  resent  this.  Laertes  bought  Eurycleia  in  her 
youth  for  twenty  oxen  and  honoured  her  equally  with  his  wife,  "  but  ho 
never  lay  with  her,  for  he  shunned  the  wrath  of  his  lady  "  (Odyssey,  I. 
Tr.  Butcher  and  Lang,  p.  15).  Deianeira  lets  Herakles  have  as  many 
concubines  as  he  chooses,  but  cannot  tolerate  lole  as  a  wife  in  her  house 
(Wilarnowitz-Mollendorf,  Staat  und  Ocsellschaft,  p.  34). 

*  Odyssey,  XXII.  468. 

•'  The  right  of  exposing  a  child  was  limited  in  Sparta  by  the  meeting  of 
the  tribesmen  (Plutarch,  Lycurgus,  16,  cited  by  Leist).  Loist  (p.  59) 
thinks  the  ayx'o'reTs  must  be  meant.  Exposure  was  forbidden  by  law  only 
in  isolated  instances  and  those  of  the  archaic  period.  Thebes  is  the  most 
noteworthj'^  case.  In  geiieral  it  remained  a  serious  factor  in  Greek  life 
(Wilamowitz,  p.  35).  The  legitimacy  of  the  child  had  to  be  acknowledged 
bv  the  kindred  in  order  to  secure  its  ri^ht  of  inheritance.  The  adult  son 
was  emancipated. 


204  MORALS  IN   EVOLUTION 

cliildren  and  slaves  in  the  courts.^  Nor  were  limitations  on 
personal  liberty  and  responsibility  peculiar  to  the  wife,  for  here 
again  woman  was  subject  to  the  three  obediences  to  father, 
husband  or  son,  and  failing  them,  to  her  nearest  blood  relation. 
The  sons  in  most  cases  divided  the  inheritance,  the  daughters 
having  only  a  right  to  maintenance  and  doT>^ry.  But  what 
property  women  had  remained  theirs  during  marriage,  and  in 
some  states  they  even  had  the  right  of  management .^  In  early 
times  the  father  might  sell  his  daughters,  or  brothers  their 
sisters,  when  under  their  guardianship.  This  right  was  abolished 
by  Solon  except  in  the  case  of  unchastity,^  but  a  father  retained 
the  right  of  controllmg  his  daughter  and  even  of  disposing  of 
her  by  wiJl,^  or  of  giving  his  son,  while  a  minor,  in  adoption  to 
another  family.^  There  could  be  no  legitimate  marriage  without 
an  assignment  of  the  bride  by  her  guardian.^  The  wife  passed 
into  the  husband's  family,  and  was  separated  from  her  own  kin 
and  their  sacra.  At  Athens  she  might  be  divorced  on  payment 
of  the  bride  price,  while  on  her  side  she  could  only  obtain  a 
divorce  by  the  sanction  of  the  archon.'  At  Sparta,  where,  in 
some  respects,  e.  g.  in  regard  to  property,  she  had  a  higher 
position,^  it  seems  that   looser  relations   prevailed.      Brothers 

^  The  Athenian  woman  could  follow  no  suit  of  a  value  exceeding  a 
medimnos,  except  through  a  guardian.  The  wife  had  very  limited  powers 
of  alienation  without  the  husband's  consent. 

2  Busolt,  Handbuch  der  Klassischen  Altertumswissenschaft,  19,  20. 

Here  Dorian  and  Ionian  custom  stand  in  contrast.  From  the  preoccupa- 
tion of  the  Spartiate  with  military  exercises  it  followed  that  his  wife  was 
left  in  charge  of  the  land,  and  she  might  inherit  and  hold  estates  as  her  own. 
The  Athenian  woman  seems  only  to  have  received  "  movables  "  as  her 
dowry  (Wilamowitz,  pp.  34,  94).  The  land  in  Attica  belonged  to  the 
family.  Hence  if  the  daughter  inherited  she  must  inarry  her  nearest  kin — 
sons  of  the  same  father  not  excluded  (Wilamowitz,  33,  34). 

^  (Ti  5'  oijbe  Bvyarepas  ■K(tjKilv  ovr''  aoe\<pds  olSdiai  ttA'/j^'  ay  -.i)]  Aa.Si?  tzapQivov  a,v^p\ 
avyjeyevT)ix.iV7]v  (Plut.,  Solon,  13,  23,  cited  by  Busolt,  lac.  cit.). 

*  Letoumeau,  La  Femtne,  416. 

^  Busolt,  p.  19.  According  to  Leist  (p.  62)  he  had  practical,  but  not 
legal  control  over  the  son's  marriage. 

•5  At  any  rate  at  Athens  (Busolt,  210).  The  P,7X'"'"^«"y  (relations  to  the 
fourth  degree  on  both  sides)  had  to  see  that  the  orphan  heiress  was  married, 
and  her  nearest  male  relation  (after  her  brothers)  had  the  right  of  marrying 
her,  and  correspondingly  the  duty  of  so  doing  or  of  finding  a  husband 
for  her  (Busolt,  20 ;   Lcist,  40,  47). 

'  Letourneau,  La  Femme,  423.  At  SjDarta  divorce  for  sterility  seems  to 
have  been  expected  at  any  rate  of  a  king  (Herodt.,  v.  40). 

"  According  to  Aristotle  two-fifths  of  the  land  of  Sparta  had  come 
into  the  hands  of  women  by  inheritance  and  bequest  in  his  time,  and  the 
Spartiate  women,  having  successfully  resisted  the  attempt  of  Lycurgus  to 
irnpose  on  them  the  same  discipline  as  the  men  accepted,  enjoyed  a  state  of 
liberty  which  in  Aristotle's  view  amounted  to  licence,  and  was  disastrous 
to  Sparta  [Politics,  ii.  1269  B,  1270  A). 


WOMAN  AND  MARRIAGE  UNDER  CIVILIZATION    205 

might  share  a  wife  in  common,  and  wife-lending  was  recognized, 
whereas  at  Athens  the  punishment  of  adultery  was  enforced.^ 
Monogamy  prevailed,^  but  concubinage  was  legally  recognized, 
provided  that  the  handmaiden  did  not  reside  in  the  same  house 
with  the  legal  wife.  The  concubine's  children  might  be  legiti- 
mated by  adoption,  and  might  then  enter  the  phratry,  whereby 
they  acquired  all  the  privileges  of  citizenship.^ 

But  the  woman,  though  under  ward,  was  certainly  not  regarded 
as  a  chattel.  Probably  Aristotle  expressed  the  ordinary  Greek 
view  accurately  enough  when  he  said  that  a  man  should  rule  his 
slaves  as  a  despot,  his  children  as  a  king,  and  his  wife  as  a  magis- 
trate in  a  free  state.  Yet  it  was  a  Greek  poet  who  first  let  women 
speak  for  themselves  and  not  in  terms  of  male  sentiment,  and 
a  Greek  thinker  who  first  frankly  argued  the  case  for  the  free 
admission  of  women  to  all  the  duties  and  rights  of  man.  Plato's 
position  differs  from  that  of  his  modern  successors  in  that  he 
insists  rather  on  women's  duties  than  on  their  rights,  more  on 
what  the  state  loses  by  their  restriction  to  the  family  circle  than 
on  the  loss  to  their  own  personality.  Further,  though  he  had 
the  experience  of  Sparta  to  go  upon,  his  ovim  teaching  was  too 
much  associated  with  polemics  against  the  family  and  with  a 
fanciful  ideal  of  communism  to  be  taken  quite  seriously.  On  the 
other  hand,  Aristotle  summed  up  the  whole  philosophy  of  the 
ancient  world,  of  the  East,  and  perhaps  the  prevailing  sentiment 
in  modern  Europe,  when,  discussing  those  who  are  fit  to  bear  rule 
and  order  the  affairs  of  men,  he  says  that  a  slave  does  not  possess 
that  power  of  deliberation  (to  (SovXevTiKov)  which  is  the  basis  alike 
of  self-government  and  of  the  government  of  others.  A  child 
possesses  it  but  imperfectly.  A  woman  possesses  it,  but  in  her 
it  is  without  authority  (aKvpov).  After  all,  the  Greeks  did  little 
to  develop  it.     There  appear  to  have  been  no  regular  schools 

1  By  the  Solonian  legislation  the  husband  who  concealed  his  wife's 
adultery  was  punished  with  arifxia.  Yet  the  punishment  of  the  adulterer 
was  left  in  the  husband's  hands.  If  caught  flagrante  delicto  he  was  abso- 
lutely at  the  husband's  mercy.  In  any  case  he  could  be  imprisoned  at  the 
husband's  pleasure,  and  was  released  on  payment  of  a  fine  (Letourneau,  p. 
422).  The  wife  was  not  killed,  but  divorced  (Leist,  p.  300).  For  an 
instance  of  wife-lending  at  Athens,  Letourneau  cites  the  case  of  Kimon 
(Letoiurneau,  p.  415). 

^  Anaxandrides,  king  of  Sparta,  declined  to  divorce  his  barren  wife, 
but  consented  to  take  a  second.  This  was  regarded  as  quit-e  un-Spartan 
(Herodt.,  v.  40).  Bigamy  was  not  a  punishable  offence,  but  might  be  a 
ground  of  divorce.  It  was  actually  legalized  at  Athens  after  the  losses  of 
the  Sicilian  expedition  (Zimmern,  Greek  Commonwealth,  p.  334).  Super- 
numerary wives  in  foreign  parts  are  an  occasional  theme  of  the  New  Comedy 
(Wilnmowitz,  p.  34). 

*  Busolt,  op.  cit.,  p.  201. 


206  MORALS   IN  EVOLUTION 

for  girls  at  Athens/  and  it  was  only  the  courtesan  of  the  higher 
class  who  was  a  fit  helpmeet  mentally  for  Pericles  or  capable  of 
sustainmg  a  conversation  v/ith  Socrates. ^  Xenophon's  ideal  wife 
is  a  good  housekeeper,  like  her  of  the  Proverbs. 

8.  The  modern  European  marriage  law  has  three  roots — Roman 
Law,  Primitive  Teutonic  custom,  and  the  Christian  doctrine  of 
marriage;  but  it  has  been  largely  remodelled  in  the  modern 
period  under  ra.tionalizmg  influences.  It  cannot  be  studied 
statically,  but  has  a  long,  varied  and  interesting  history,  of 
which  an  attempt  will  be  made  here  to  give  the  briefest  possible 
outline.  This  history  starts  with  the  early  Roman  family, 
organized  as  it  was  under  the  highly-developed  potestas  of  the 
father.  All  the  children  are  the  father's,  and  in  law  he  can 
dispose  of  them  at  pleasure.^  He  can  chastise  them,  sell  them 
into  slavery,  and  even  put  them  to  death  (fas  viloe  necisque).^ 
Before  exercising  this  supreme  power  he  has,  it  is  true,  to  con- 
sult the  council  of  relations,  but  he  is  not  bound  by  their  judg- 
ment. In  short,  the  paternal  power  is  nowhere  more  strongly 
developed,  nor  does  the  position  of  wife  and  children  anywhere 
apjoroach  in  law  more  nearly  to  that  of  slaves,  owned  by  the 
paterfamilias,  and  except  as  a  matter  of  grace,  incapable  of 
owning  anything  themselves. 

Into  the  family  thus  constituted  a  wife  passed  on  her  marriage. 
The  marriage  might  be  accomplished  by  either  of  tw^o  forms,  and 
it  might  also  be  made  valid  apparently  without  any  form  at  all. 
The  first  form  was  conjarreatio,  in  which  the  essential  feature 
was  the  eating  by  both  bride  and  bridegroom  of  a  cake — an  act 
of  the  kind  which  we  call  symbolic,  but  which  to  primitive  man 
is  rather  magical,  actually  efiicacious  in  establishing  a  unity  of 

1  Here  the  Spartans  were  more  liberal,  as  they  admitted  women  to  the 
gymnasia  (Busolt,  ii.  158). 

^  Mr.  Zimmern,  after  weighing  tlie  argimaents  of  V/ilamowitz  {Arist.  nnd 
Alliens,  ii.  100),  adheres  to  the  traditional  view  of  the  high  qvialities  and 
position  of  women  like  Aspasia  {op.  cit.,  p.  332). 

*  Exposure,  however,  *if  the  law  attributed  by  Dionysius  (ii.  15,  Bruns, 
p.  7)  to  Romulus  is  correct,  was  limited  to  female  infants  and  required  the 
consent  of  the  neighbours — OLiraaav  a^peva  -yeveav  eKrpi(peiv,  Kol  dvyaripoiv  ras 
TTpoToySvovs.  No  child  was  to  be  killed  under  three  years — n\^v  ei  n  yivono 
iraiSlov  avdirfipov  ^  Tfpas  ev9vs  awh  yovrjs.  Tavra  S'  ovk  iiciiXvaev  (O  'Pa',uuAoj) 
fKTiOeyaiTOvs  yetvafxtvovs,  iirtdfi^avTas  irpSrepov  nevre  avSpdffi  tois  iyyiara  oIkovoiv, 
etc. 

*  Brims  (p.  7),  quoting  Dion.  ii.  26.  ('O  "Poj^uAos)  airaaav  e5«K«j'  i^ovffiav 
TTUTpl  Kad'  vlov,  KOil  irapa  Travra  rhv  tov  ^lov  xp^^ov  idv  re  eXpyeiv  edv  re  fxacrri- 
yovv,  fdv  re  hiafxiov  eiri  tcov  Kar  aypbv  epycov  KariXf'V,  ^^v  t€  aitoKTivvvvat 
■KDOatpTJrai,- — aWa  Kol  iroiAeji'  f(prJKt  rhv  vihv  rf  naTpi,- — Kol  rovro  ffW(X^pr]<^f  '''<i> 
yraTpi,   I^^XP'-  Tpi'TTjs  nr^afftois  a.(p'  vlov  xp^l^"-'^'^'^'^'^^'^^- — jJ^^Ta.   ?i  t)}v  rplTTjv  Trpaatv 

OTTTjAAaKTO  TOV  TTaTpSs. 


WOMAN  AND  MARRIAGE  UNDER  CIVILIZATION    207 

the  man  and  woman.  The  second  form  was  called  coemj^tio, 
and  was  of  the  nature  of  a  formal  sale,  almost  certainly,  in  the 
light  of  what  we  know  of  other  peoples,  preserving  the  memory 
of  a  real  purchase  of  the  wife  by  the  husband,  which  as  anything 
but  a  form  had  already  fallen  into  disuse  when  history  begins. 
Both  these  forms  transferred  the  wife  from  the  power  (jjotesias) 
or  hand  {maims)  of  her  father  into  that  of  her  husband,  to  whom 
she  became  as  a  daughter.  For  all  purposes,  sacred  and  profane, 
she  passed  from  the  one  family  to  the  other.^  But  just  as 
inanimate  property,  which  normally  passed  from  hand  to  hand 
by  a  special  ceremony  of  transfer,  might  acquire  a  new  owner 
by  long  unchallenged  possession  and  use,  so  was  it  also  with 
human  property.  The  woman  who  without  either  of  the  two 
ceremonies  mentioned  was  given  by  her  father  to  a  man  and 
lived  with  him  as  his  wife  for  a  whole  year  without  interruption 
became  in  law  his  wife  by  use  (usus)  and  passed  as  completely 
in  manum  mariti  as  if  she  had  eaten  with  him  the  sacred  cake. 

All  these  three  modes  of  marriage  were  in  existence  at  the 
time  of  the  drawing  up  of  the  XII  Tables,  and  whichever  of 
them  she  chose,  the  woman  passed  into  the  family  and  into  the 
power  of  her  husband.'''"^et  her  position  differed  in  two  essential 
respects  from  that  of  the  Oriental  wife.  She  was  her  husband's 
only  wife.  At  no  period  of  Roman  history  are  there  any  traces 
of  polygamy  or  concubinage. ^  And  not  only  was  she  the  sole 
wife,  but  the  tie  which  bound  her  to  her  husband  was  difficult 
to  break  and  rarely  broken.  It  is  true  that  each  form  of  union 
could  be  undone  by  a  certain  prescribed  ceremony — conjarreatio 
by  diffarreatio,  coemptio  by  remancipatio.  But  these  were 
resorted  to  rarely,  and  it  would  appear  only  for  grave  offences, 
the  council  of  relations  being  first  called  in  to  give  judgment.^ 

^  Cf.  on  the  religious  marriage  Dion.,  ywalKa  yafieriiv  riji'  Kara  yd/xovs 
iepovs  ffvvfKdoiicrav  apSpl  Koivoovhv  airdvrwu  elvai  XPIM* ''■'>"'  '''^  '^"■^  hpuy  (Bruns,  p. 
6). 

2  The  concubinate  of  which  we  hear  in  Roman  law  is  a  form  of  vmion, 
bereft  of  some  of  the  civil  rights  of  marriage,  not  the  relation  of  a  married 
ma,n  to  a  secondary  wife. 

*  Bryce,  Studies  in  Jurisprudence,  vol.  ii.  p.  403.  The  offences  for 
which,  according  to  Dionysius,  ii.  25  (Bruns,  p.  7),  she  was  brought  to 
trial  before  a  council  of  relatives  were,  however,  piuiishable  with  death. 
They  were  adultery  and  wine-drinking  {ravra — ol  crvyyefe'is  fxera  rou  aySphs 
fSlica(ov).  The  grounds  for  divorce  stated  by  Plutarch  are  poisoning  the 
childjen,  the  use  of  false  keys,  and  adultery.  Divorce  for  any  other  reason 
was  puixished  by  confiscation  of  property.  The  wife  could  not  leave  her 
husband  in  any  case.  {ywaiKl  /xi]  SiSohs  aTro/^eiireiV  liy^pa,  ywaiKa  5e  8idovs 
fK^dWeiy  eVi  (papfiaKeia  tskvuiv  ij  K\eidiiv  iiiro^oXy  Kal  ixoix^vSelaav  el  5'  &X\u>s 
Tis  aTroTrf/.L\i/ai.ro,  rrjs  ovffias  avTov  rh  fxkv  rris  yvvaticbs  elvai,  rh  Se  tvjs  ArjixriTpos 
lephv  KeXevoov.  Bruns,  p.  6;  cf.  Girard,  p.  154.)  Divorce  by  the  husband 
was  recognized  in  the  XII  Tables.     The  husband  takes  the  wife's  keys 


208  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

It  does  not  appear  that  the  wife  had  any  means  of  repudiatmg 
the  husband,  or  of  emancipating  herself  from  his  manus.  In 
practice  marriage  was  so  nearly  indissoluble  that  the  divorce  of 
his  wife  by  Spurius  Carvilius  Ruga  in  231  B.C.  was  declared  to 
be  the  first  instance  ^  known  since  the  foundation  of  the  city. 
On  the  other  hand,  it  must  be  remembered  that  the  unfaithful 
wife  might  be  put  to  death  without  trial,  and  that  the  husband 
who  had  other  good  causes  of  complaint  would  be  supported  by 
the  family  council  in  executing  or  in  repudiating  her.^ 

9.  Such  was  the  primitive  Roman  marriage  with  the  manus. 
But  even  in  the  days  of  the  XII  Tables  a  wholly  different  union 
had  made  its  appearance.  If  the  enjoyment  of  property  was 
broken  for  awhile  before  the  year  was  out,  no  title  to  it  arose 
out  of  the  usufruct.  This  idea  was  applied  to  marriage  by 
usus,  and  already  in  the  time  of  the  XII  Tables  we  find  that 
if  the  cohabitation  was  broken  for  three  nights  in  every  year, 
the  wife  did  not  become  the  property  of  the  husband.  When 
or  how  it  became  a  custom  to  convert  this  breach  of  cohabita- 
tion into  a  system,  and  so  establish  a  form  of  marriage  in  which 
the  wife  did  not  pass  into  the  manus  of  the  husband,  we  do 
not  know.  What  is  certain  is  that  this  new  form  of  free  mar- 
riage rapidly  ousted  its  older  rivals.  The  bride  now  remained 
in  her  father's  pov/er,  she  was  still  a  member  of  her  own  family, 
and  by  consequence  had  no  position  in  that  of  her  husband. 
Subject  to  the  nominal  control  of  her  father  or  her  guardian, 
she  thus  acquired  complete  control  of  her  own  property,  and 
became,  in  fact,  her  own  mistress.  She  was  not  in  theory  a 
free  woman  unless  emancipated.  She  was  only  free  from  her 
husband.  But  it  need  hardly  be  pointed  out  that  the  practical 
control  of  relations  with  Avhom  as  a  married  woman  she  no  longer 
lived  was  not  likely  to  be  a  very  serious  matter,  and  in  point 
of  fact,  where  it  was  felt  to  be  irksome,  it  was  from  time  to 
time  limited  by  law.  Thus  the  father  had  naturally,  as  a  part 
of  his  potestas,  the  right  to  break  the  marriage  at  will.  But 
this  logical  application  of  the  paternal  power  was  abolished 

away  and  turns  her  out  of  the  house.  "  Illam  suam  suas  res  sibi  habere 
jussit,  ex  XII  tabuHs,  claves  ademit,  exegit "  (Cic.  PhiL  ii.  28.  Bruns, 
p.  22). 

1  Ruga's  wife  was  divorced  for  sterility,  and  Lord  Bryce  takes  the  sweep- 
ing statement  of  the  authorities  to  mean  that  it  was  the  first  instance  of 
a  divorce  in  which  no  crime  was  alleged  (ii.  403). 

2  At  the  same  time,  if  Plutarch  (Rom.  22)  is  to  be  trusted,  it  was  a 
religious  offence  to  sell  her  as  a  slave  (rhv  6'  airoSSaifvov  yvva7:<a  Bveffdai 
xOoviois  6eo7s  (Bruns,  7).  In  this  point  she  enjoyed  a  material  advantage 
over  the  children. 


WOaiAN  AND  MARRIAGE  UNPER  CIVILIZATION    209 

under  the  Antonines,   or  restricted  to  cases  where  there  was 
grave  cause  for  its  exercise.^ 

On  the  other  hand,  the  tutela  was  a  reality  for  unmarried 
women,  and  the  Roman  law  never  seems  to  have  fully  acknow- 
ledged that  the  consent  of  the  adult  woman,  and  her  consent 
alone,  was  the  one  necessary  condition  to  her  marriage.  Origin- 
ally, indeed,  the  consent  of  the  parties  does  not  seem  to  have 
been  required  at  all.  This  would  be  all  in  accordance  with 
primitive  ideas.  But  here  again  the  law  was  modified  as  time 
went  on,  and  the  consent  of  the  woman,  as  well  as  the  man, 
became  a  normal  and,  in  some  cases,  a  legally  necessary  con- 
dition.2  Further,  with  the  general  emancipation  of  women 
the  necessity  for  a  guardian  appears  to  have  gradually  died 
away.^  Hence  the  Roman  matron  of  the  Empire  was  more 
fully  her  own  mistress  than  the  married  woman  of  any  earlier 
civilization,  with  the  possible  exception  of  a  certain  period  of 
Egyptian  history,  and  it  must  be  added,  than  the  wife  of  any  later 
civilization  down  to  our  own  generation.  Practically  independent 
of  her  father,  she  was  legally  independent  of  her  husband.  She 
could  bring  an  action  against  others  and,  with  some  limitations, 
against   him.*     She    could    hold    property    and    dispose    of    it 

1  The  separation  of  a  wife  from  her  husband  by  her  father  was  forbidden 
by  Antoninus  Pius,  but  was  permitted  "  magna  et  justa  causa  interveni- 
ente  "  by  his  successor  (Sir  F.  Jeune,  Eticy.  Brit.,  art.  "  Divorce,"  p.  471 ; 
Girard,  p.  155).  The  son  also  acquired  the  right  to  emancipation  in  case 
of  ill-treatment  (Girard,  183). 

*  The  consent  of  the  parties  was,  of  course,  required  if  they  were  sui 
juris.  On  the  other  hand,  by  the  strict  logic  of  the  law,  if  either  was  in 
tutela,  and  this  would  be  the  normal  case  with  a  girl  (and  even  with  a 
grown-up  woman),  the  affair  would  have  been  one  for  the  guardians  alone. 
Thus  Ulpian  (v.  2)  says,  "  Consentiant  si  sui  juris  sunt,  aut  etiam  parentes 
eorum  si  in  potestate  sunt  "  (cited  by  Girard,  p.  147  note).  The  Lex  Julia 
(A.U.C.  736)  gave  an  appeal  from  the  guardians,  if  thej^  refused  consent, 
to  a  court.  Further,  the  best  jurists,  including  Ulpian  himself,  held  the 
consent  of  the  parties  to  be  necessary  as  well  as  that  of  their  guardians. 
"  Nuptise  consistere  non  possunt  nisi  consentiant  omnes ;  id  est  qui 
coeunt,  quorumque  in  potestate  sunt "  {Digest,  XXIII.  ii.  2).  With  this, 
however,  we  must  read  :  "  Sed  quae  patris  voluntati  non  repugnat  con- 
sentire  intelligitur.  Tunc  autem  sokim  dissentiendi  a  patre  licentia  filise 
conceditixr  si  indignum  moribus  vel  turpem  sponsum  ei  pater  eligat " 
{Just  Digest,  XXIII.  i.  12.     Cited  in  VioUet,  Droit  Civil  Frangais,  p.  404). 

'  Originally  all  women  were  in  tutelage.  "  Veteres  voluerunt  feminas, 
etiamsi  perfectse  setatis  sint — in  tutela  esse — exceptis  virginibus  vestalibus, 
quas  .  .  .  liberas  esse  voluerunt;  itaque  etiam  lege  XII  Tabularum 
caut^Im  est"  (Gains,  i.  144,  145,  in  Bruns,  21).  On  the  extinction  of  the 
tutela,  see  Girard,  pp.  196and213. 

*  In  case  of  adultery  the  husband  could  originally  kill  the  wife.  The 
Lex  Julia  compelled  him  to  prosecute,  the  punishment  being  relegatio.  The 
same  law  pvmished  fornication  with  women  of  rank  (Girard,  Manuel 
eUmeniaire  du  Droit  Romain,  IGO,  17 


210  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

freely,^  On  the  other  hand,  being  separated  from  his  family, 
she  does  not  succeed  to  his  property  if  he  dies  intestate,  nor  do 
her  children  succeed  to  her,  nor  she  to  them.  So  much  followed 
from  the  strict  theory  of  marriage  without  the  viamis,  though 
here,  as  elsewhere,  natural  feeling  had  its  way,  and  practical 
rules  were  introduced  by  the  Pr«torian  legislation  to  prevent 
consequences  wliich  would  seem  harsh  to  the  temper  of  the  time. 

These  changes  naturally  affected  the  stability  of  marriage. 
We  have  seen  that  under  the  old  law  divorce  was  rare  and 
difficult,  but  the  revolution  effected  in  marriage  by  the  dis- 
appearance of  the  manus  was  nowhere  more  conspicuous  than 
in  its  effect  upon  the  permanence  of  the  marriage  tie.  By  the 
newer  form  of  marriage  neither  did  the  wife  pass  into  the  hus- 
band's family  nor  the  husband  into  the  wife's  family.  They 
remained  distinct  persons,  distinct  individuaHties,  and  as  they 
freely  entered  into  the  marriage  relation,  so  could  they  freely 
leave  it.  Divorce,  in  short,  as  in  so  many  primitive  tribes, 
stood  freety  at  the  choice  of  either  party.  In  the  best  time  of 
the  Republic  divorce  without  adequate  cause  incurred  penalties, 
a  pecuniary  fine,  or,  stiU  more  serious,  the  nota  censoria.  But 
with  the  growth  of  the  new  form  of  marriage  opinion  rapidly 
changed,  and,  as  Lord  Bryce  points  out,  we  find  at  the  close  of 
the  Republic  not  only  Pompey,  but  "  such  austere  moralists  as 
Cato  the  Younger  and  the  philosophic  Cicero  "  putting  away 
their  wives.  The  reader  of  Cicero's  letters  who  is  unacquainted 
with  the  Roman  law  of  divorce  will  perhaps  remember  the 
shock  of  surprise  with  which,  after  becoming  well  acquainted 
with  Terentia  from  many  allusions  he  suddenly  finds  Cicero 
calmly  referring  to  his  divorce  and  re-marriage.  At  this  period 
divorce  had,  in  fact,  become  as  commonplace  an  incident  of  life 
as  marriage  itself. 

How  far  the  freedom  of  women  had  the  demoralizing  results 
which  have  been  generally  attributed  to  it  by  those  whose 
business  it  has  been  to  paint  the  Roman  Empire  in  the  darkest 
colours,  is  a  matter  on  which  the  best  authorities  do  not  speak 
with  confidence.  It  must  be  remembered  that  our  accounts  of 
Roman  social  life  are  drawn  in  part  from  satirists  like  Juvenal, 
or  satirical  historians  like  Tacitus,  and  that  we  should  be  as  far 

^  Girard,  p.  159.  The  dos  or  dowry  brought  by  the  wife  from  her  own 
family's  resources  to  the  maintenance  of  the  joint  life  passed  originall5'  to 
the  husband;  but  while  he  continued  to  administer  it,  his  right  over  it 
became  more  and  more  restricted  in  favour  of  the  wife,  so  that  the  jurists 
(e.  g.  Ulpian)  speak  of  it  as  being  her  property,  and  this  is  recognized  by 
Justinian,  who  gives  her  a  right  to  reclaim  it  on  the  dissolution  of  the 
marriage  from  whatever  cause  (Girard,  pp.  922-G2G). 


WOMAN  AND  MARRIAGE  UNDER  CIVILIZATION    211 

astray  in  taking  their  description  as  an  impartial  account  of  the 
society  in  which  they  lived  as  wc  should  be  if  we  accepted  the 
picture  of  our  ov/n  social  life  as  it  could  be  painted  for  us  by 
some  preacher  of  reform,  or  some  contemporary  censor  of  morals. 
The  satirist  has  a  great  function  in  the  world,  but  it  is  not  that 
of  supplying  the  historian  of  maimers  with  material  ready  for  use 
without  analysis.  Other  sources  are  the  writmgs  of  Christian 
fathers,  who  from  a  different  point  of  view  were  even  more  prone 
to  denounce  the  wickedness  of  the  world  as  they  found  it. 

The  very  fact  that  the  Romans  took  so  serious  a  view  oi 
feminine  profligacy  mihtates  against  the  belief  that  the  corrup- 
tion had  gone  quite  so  deep  as  is  generally  supposed.  Lucius 
Piso  declared  that  modesty  had  vanished  since  the  censorship  of 
Messalla  and  Cassius  in  154  b.c.^  Yet  we  have  the  testimony 
of  Velleius  that  in  the  proscription  of  the  Second  Triumvirate, 
while  the  sons  were  never  faithful  and  freed-men  only  sometimes 
so,  the  wives  could  be  trusted  always.  The  freedom  of  divorce 
was  abused,  as  it  is  in  the  present  day  in  America.  According 
to  Seneca  there  were  women  who  reckoned  the  years  not  by  the 
consuls,  but  by  their  husbands,  but  this,  again,  is  obviously 
satire.  On  the  other  hand,  there  are  instances  of  three,  four,  or 
five  wives,  and,  again,  of  three  to  five  husbands.  A  marriage  of 
forty-one  years  is  recorded  as  unusually  long,  and  in  this  case 
the  wife  had  urged  divorce  and  re-marriage  upon  her  husband 
after  the  death  of  their  daughter,  for  the  sake  of  getting  children. 
This,  however,  is  remote  in  sentiment  from  anything  like  pro- 
fligacy, and  connects  itself  rather  with  the  primitive  idea  of  t!ic 
necessity  of  children.  The  literature  of  the  time  has  stories  of 
faithful  wives  as  weH  as  of  profligate  women  to  record — stories  of 
wives  accompanying  their  husbands  in  suicide,  dying  with  them 
in  proscriptions,  or  gomg  with  them  into  exile.  Every  one  knows 
of  Arria,  who  thrust  the  dagger  first  into  her  own  bosom,  and 
then  offered  it  to  her  husband,  with  the  words,  "  Paete,  non 
dolet."  But  we  do  not  all  know  that  she  became  a  kind  of 
heroine  of  the  time,  and  upon  a  gravestone  in  Anagnia  is  addressed 
along  with  Laodamia  by  a  woman  who  asks  her  to  receive  her 
soul.^ 

The  evidence  of  the  tombstones,  which  in  all  ages  bear  a 
singular  family  resemblance,  shows  that  the  domestic  ideal  held 

^  Friedlander,  SiUengeschichte  Roms.,  i.  475.  Friedlander'e  whole  dis- 
ciission  (pp.  475-507)  is  instructive,  if  somewhat  indecisive.  The  judgment 
of  Professor  Dill,  whose  work  has  appeared  since  the  above  was  written,  ia 
more  clearly  favourable  {Roman  Society,  pp.  77,  79,  145,  etc.). 

'  Friedlander,  i.  514. 


212  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

sway  under  the  free  manners  of  imperial  Rome,  as  under  the 
masculine  despotism  of  the  East  or  the  sentimentality  of  the 
West.  A  panegyric  on  Murdia  in  the  second  half  of  the  first  cen- 
tury says  all  gravestones  of  women  must  be  alike,  "  because  their 
virtues  admit  of  no  heterogeneity,  and  it  is  enough  that  aU  have 
shown  themselves  worthy  of  the  same  good  report."  "  All  the 
greater  renown  has  my  dearest  mother  won,  who  has  equalled 
and  in  no  way  fallen  behind  other  women  in  modesty,  rectitude, 
chastity,  obedience,  household  work,  carefulness  and  loyalty." 
Another  inscription  says,  "  She  was  of  pleasant  address  and  noble 
gait,  took  care  of  her  house  and  span."  In  another,  the  husband 
has  sworn  not  to  take  another  wife.  Another,  "  I  await  my 
husband  " ;  another,  "  Never  have  I  experienced  a  pain  from 
thee,  except  through  thy  death." 

Upon  the  whole,  the  Roman  matron  would  seem  to  have 
retained  the  position  of  her  husband's  companion,  counsellor 
and  friend,  wliich  she  had  held  in  those  more  austere  times 
when  marriage  brought  her  legally  under  his  dominion. 

10.  To  understand  how  Roman  marriage  became  modified  in 
the  Middle  Ages  we  must  retrace  our  steps  and  hark  back  to  the 
two  other  influences  mentioned  at  the  outset.  The  first  of  these 
need  not  detain  us  long,  for  the  primitive  law  of  the  Germanic 
tribes  which  overran  the  Roman  Empire  closely  resembled 
the  early  law  of  the  Romans  themselves.  The  power  of  the 
husband  was  strongly  developed;  he  might  expose  the  infant 
children,  chastise  his  wife,  dispose  of  her  person.  He  could 
not  put  her  to  death,  but  if  she  was  unfaithful  he  was,  with 
the  consent  of  the  relations,  judge  and  executioner .^  The 
wife  was  acquired  by  purchase  from  her  own  relatives  without 
reference  to  her  own  desires,^  and  by  purchase  passed  out  of 
her  family.  She  did  not  inherit  in  early  times  at  all,  though 
at  a  later  period  she  acquired  that  right  in  the  absence  of  male 
heirs.  She  was  in  perpetual  ward,  subject,  in  short,  to  the 
Chinese  rule  of  the  three  obediences,  to  which  must  be  added, 

*  Conversely  the  adultery  of  a  man  is  no  offence  against  his  own  wife,  but 
only  against  another  husband.  The  proprietary  view  appears  strongly  in 
the  old  English  law.  "  If  a  freeman  lie  with  a  freeman's  wife  let  him  pay 
for  it  with  his  wergild,  and  provide  another  wife  with  his  own  money  " — 
i.  e.  to  replace  his  mistress  who  has  been  slain  by  her  husband  (Howard, 
Matrimotiial  Institutions,  ii.  35). 

^  Wliether  it  was  the  woman  or  the  guardianship  over  her  which  was 
technically  sold  is  a  fine  legal  point,  on  which  a  host  of  authorities  may  be 
seen  arrayed  on  both  sides  in  Howard,  i.  260,  261.  The  only  ethical  points 
in  question  are  (1)  whether  her  consent  was  necessary ;  (2)  what  rights  she 
enjoyed  when  sold. 


WOjVL^N  and  marriage  under  civilization    213 

as  feudal  powers  developed,  the  rule  of  the  king  or  other  feudal 
superior.^  And  the  guardianship  or  mundium  was  frankly 
regarded  in  early  law  rather  as  a  source  of  profit  to  the  guardian 
than  as  a  means  of  defence  to  the  ward,  and  for  this  reason  it 
fetched  a  price  in  the  market,  and  was,  in  fact,  saleable  far  down 
in  the  Middle  Ages.  Lastly,  the  German  wife,  though  respected, 
had  not  the  certainty  enjoyed  by  the  early  Roman  matron  of 
reigning  alone  in  the  household.  It  is  true  that  polygamy  was 
rare  in  the  early  German  tribes,  but  this,  as  we  have  seen,  is 
universally  the  case  where  the  numbers  of  the  sexes  are  equal. 
Polygamy  was  allowed,  and  was  practised  by  the  chiefs. 

This  primitive  marriage  system  came  into  contact  not  only 
with  the  Roman  Law,  but  with  the  still  more  powerful  influence 
of  the  Church.  The  Church  regarded  marriage  as  a  concession 
to  the  weakness  of  the  flesh.  It  is  not  a  sin,  and  those  who 
denounce  it  as  such  are  severely  reprobated.  Nevertheless  it  is 
of  the  nature  of  a  hindrance  in  spiritual  duties.  It  is  incom- 
patible with  the  performance  of  the  sacraments,  and  thus 
continence  is  enjoined  on  priests.  It  was,  indeed,  only  after  a 
long  struggle  that  the  celibacy  of  the  priesthood  was  established 
as  a  law  of  the  Roman  Church.  Such  a  prohibition  was  mooted 
at  the  Council  of  Nice,  but  not  carried,  while  by  the  rejection  of 
the  proposal  at  the  Sixth  Council  the  Eastern  Church  escaped 
from  this  burden  altogether.  Nor  was  it  till  the  time  of  Hilde- 
brand  that  it  became  the  definitive  rule  in  the  West.  With 
regard  to  the  laity,  the  chief  concern  of  the  Church  was  to 
save  souls  by  preventing  the  deadly  sin  of  fornication.  Hence 
came  several  results;  on  the  one  hand,  the  form  of  marriage 
was  reduced  to  its  simplest  possible  terms.  The  mere  statement 
of  each  party  that  they  took  one  another  as  spouses  was  deemed 
sufficient,  providing  that  the  mutual  pledge  referred  to  the  present 
{per  verba  de  prcesenti).^  Even  witnesses  were  not  necessary, 
though,  of  course,  they  were  in  practice  required  in  order  to 
prove  that  the  pledge  had  been  made.  It  was  the  duty  of 
the  parties  to  have  a  wedding  ceremony  in  church — in  fact,  it 
became  a  breach  of  law  and  morals  to  marry  by  any  other  form, 
but  the  omission  of  such  a  ceremony  did  not  affect  the  validity 
of  the  marriage.^ 

^  Waitz,  VerfassungsgescMchte,  i.  57-60. 

^  At  least  from  the  time  of  Alexander  III.  The  controversies  as  to  the 
exact  condition  of  a  valid  marriage  (e.  g.  as  to  whether  consummation  was 
required,  as  Gratian  maintains,  to  complete  the  marriage)  need  not  trouble 
us  here  (Howard,  op.  cit.,  i.  336,  337.     Decret.  Oral.,  1062  seq.). 

3  For  the  stages  by  which  the  ecclesiastical  ceremony  grew  up,  and 
was  made  legally  obligatory,  see  Howard,  i.  chap.  vii.     Lay  marriage  and 


214  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

In  close  connection  with  this  law  as  to  the  form  of  marriage 
is  the  position  to  which  the  Church  was  gradually  led,  and 
which  it  finally  maintained  with  great  firmness,  that  the  con- 
sent of  the  parties  alone  is  the  only  thing  necessary  to  constitute 
a  valid  marriage.  Here  the  Church  had  not  only  to  combat 
old  tradition  and  the  authority  of  the  parents,  but  also  the 
seignorial  power  of  the  feudal  lord,  and  it  must  be  accounted  to 
it  for  righteousness  that  it  emancipated  the  woman  of  the  servile 
as  well  as  of  the  free  classes  in  relation  to  the  most  important 
event  of  her  life.^ 

A  third  consequence  was  that  the  marriage,  once  concluded, 
was  indissoluble;  it  was  deadly  sin  for  one  man  to  have  to  do 
with  more  than  one  woman,  or  for  one  v/oman  with  more  than 
one  man.  That  being  so,  divorce  in  the  full  sense  became 
at  once  an  immorality;  there  might  be  separation  for  grave 
cause,  but  even  that  is  jealously  restricted  as  giving  occasion  for 
sin.    There  might  also  be  amiulment  of  marriage,  which  is  simply 

clandestine  marriage,  though  illegal,  remained  valid  down  to  the  Council 
of  Trent  in  Catholic  countries.  In  England,  except  for  the  period  of  the 
Commonwealth,  they  were  valid  down  to  the  passing  of  Lord  Hardwicke's 
Act  in  1753  (Howard,  i.  351  and  446,  etc.).  For  the  scandalous  Fleet 
marriages  which  made  the  Act  necessary,  see  ib.,  437  seq. 

^  Tlie  early  Fathers  held  by  the  consent  of  the  parents,  and  Ambrose 
apparently  thinks  that  the  whole  matter  should  be  left  to  them.  He 
quotes  with  approval  Euripides — 

vviJ.<pevfx6.TU)V  jxkv  Tar-'  ij-Luiv  nariip  e/uSs 
jxipi^vav  €|e(,  k'ovk  ei.ihv  Kpiveiv  rdde 

and  says,  "  ergo  quod  et  ipsi  philosophi  mirati  sunt  servate  virgines  " 
(Decretum  Gratiani,  Corpus  Juris  Canonici,  1124). 

In  Gratian  it  is  admitted  that  the  "  paternus  consensus  desideratur  in 
nuptiis,  neo  sine  eo  legitimge  nuptise  habeantur,"  and  he  quotes  "  illud 
Evaristi  Papse  :  Aliter  non  fit  legitimum  conjugium,  nisi  a  parentibus 
traditur  "  (p.  1123).  But  the  consent  of  the  parents  was  incompatible  with 
the  self-marriage  of  the  parties,  which  the  Church  held  necessary  for  the 
avoidance  of  fornication.  Accordingly  Gratian's  own  view  is  that  consent 
niakes  marriage  (pp.  1062,  etc.),  though  he  has  difficulty  in  reconciling 
this  with  the  fiurther  condition  that  consmnmation  should  have  taken  place. 
With  these  difficulties  we  are  not  concerned  here.  The  question  of  parental 
assent  was  decided  by  Innocent  III.,  who  declared  it  imnecessary  (Viollet, 
p.  406.  See  Howard,  vol.  i.  p.  336,  etc.).  The  Decretals  of  Gregory  IX. 
are  perfectly  clear,  "  Matrimonium  solo  consensu  contrahitur "  {Corpus 
Juris,  p.  660). 

The  Council  of  Trent,  while  compelled  by  the  abuses  of  private  marriages 
to  declare  marriage  void  if  not  performed  by  a  priest,  anathematizes  those 
who  maintain  that  marriage  without  the  consent  of  the  parents  is  invalid 
(Acts  of  Council  of  Trent  in  Cor  pis  Juris,  p.  71).  It  is,  of  course,  not 
implied  that  the  father  has  no  right  of  veto,  but  only  that  the  marriage, 
once  consummated,  is  indissoluble.  But  further,  the  daughter  who  dis- 
obeyed her  father's  order  to  marry  was  protected  by  the  Church.  She 
was  declared  free  of  the  sin  of  ingratitude,  and  ia  therefore  not  to  be 
disinherited  (Owen,  Institutes  of  Canon  Law,  p.  133). 


WOMAN  AND  MARRIAGE  UNDER  CIVILIZATION    215 

a  recognition  that  what  purported  and  was  supposed  to  be  a 
marriage,  never  was  a  lawful  union  at  all,  but  there  could  be  no 
putting  asunder  of  those  whom  God  had  once  joined  together.^ 

Lastly,  the  moral  consequences  of  any  violation  of  the  marriage 
law  were  held  by  the  Church  to  affect  the  man  no  less  than  the 
woman.  And  though  the  Church  never  succeeded  in  converting 
the  world  to  this  view,  it  must  be  noted  here  as  a  departure 
hardly,  if  ever,  paralleled  in  the  history  of  ethical  thought  before 
the  rise  of  the  spiritual  religions.^ 

The  whole  domain  of  marriage  was  in  the  end  conquered 
by  the  Church,  but  the  victory  was  only  gradual.  Polygamy 
remained  among  the  Franks  in  the  days  of  Chilperic  and  Dago- 
bert,  the  latter  of  whom  had  three  queens,  and  in  some  districts 
of  France,  such  as  Bigorre,  concubinage  lasted  up  to  the  fifteenth 
century.  But  monogamy  speedily  became  the  rule  everywhere.^ 
In  the  matter  of  the  bride's  freedom  the  struggle  was  more  pro- 
longed, and  two  voices  were  sometimes  heard  within  the  Church 
itself,  but  from  the  ninth  century  onwards  the  consent  of  both 
parties  was  at  least  supposed,  and  by  the  decision  of  Innocent  III. 
the  consent  of  the  father  ceased  to  be  even  a  necessary  condition. 
The  feudal  power  of  disposing  of  v/idows  and  orphans  was  also 
slowly  worn  away.  In  614  we  find  it  repudiated  by  Clothaire  II., 
yet  it  survived,  and  in  1232  we  find  the  Emperor  resigning  his 
right  in  this  direction  at  Frankfort.^    Generally  speaking,  the 

^  This  was  the  final  view  of  the  Church,  reached  by  slow  degrees.  Tlie 
deliverances  of  the  New  Testament  being  uncertain,  the  views  of  the  early- 
Fathers  waver,  but  nearly  all  agree  that  divorce  is  forbidden  except  for 
"  fornication."  This  term  is,  however,  sometimes  given  a  wider  spiritual 
sense  so  as  to  include  idolatry  and  even  covetousness.  But  Augustine 
(who  had  at  first  admitted  the  wider  view)  came  to  regard  adultery  as  the 
only  cause  of  separation,  refused  to  allow  any  difference  between  man  and 
woman,  and  allowed  no  dissolution  of  the  nuptial  bond  even  for  adultery. 
This  view  was  accepted  by  the  Council  of  Carthage  in  407.  In  its  final 
form  the  Canon  Law  allowed  separation  for  (1)  adultery,  the  wife  having 
an  equal  right  of  action  with  the  husband  ;  (2)  "  spiritual  "  adultery,  which 
came  to  mean  apostasy,  and  perhaps  compulsion  of  one  party  by  the  other 
to  commit  crime;  (3)  cruelty  (Howard,  ii.  53). 

^  Gratian  quotes  Ambrose,  who  is  very  precise  :  "  Omne  stuprum 
adulterium  est,  nee  viro  licet  quod  mulieri  non  licet.  Eadem  a  viro  quaa 
ab  uxore  debetur  castimonia  "  {Corpus  Juris,  1128). 

3  Viollet,  p.  388. 

*  Viollet,  p.  410.  As  to  the  authority  of  feudal  superiors,  the  Council  of 
Trent  finds  that  in  the  sixteenth  century  it  is  still  common  for  secular  lords 
to  compel  men  and  women  in  their  jurisdiction  to  marry  against  their  will, 
and  denounces  the  practice  sub  anathematis  pcena  "  quiim  maxime  nefarium 
sit  matrimonii  liljertatem  violare  "  (Coimcil  of  Trent,  p.  74).  From  an 
early  period  the  Church  had  given  sacramental  sanction  to  the  concubinate, 
i.  e.  marriages  of  the  unfree,  or  between  unfree  and  free  (Howard,  i.  276). 
On  the  other  hand,  the  sacramental  view  enables  the  Church  to  justify 


216  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

families  of  serfs  required  authorization  to  marry,  and  in  England 
no  mark  of  servile  tenure  was  more  resented  than  the  payment 
of  the  merchet,  or  fine  on  marriage,  which  implied  that  the  right 
of  marrying  was  at  the  lord's  discretion.^  In  1408  we  find 
the  Parlement  of  Paris  contesting  the  right  of  the  Due  de  Berry 
to  force  a  girl  of  eight  into  marriage.  The  king's  right  was 
exercised  frequently  by  Louis  XL,  and  Louis  XII.  forced  Alain 
d'Albret  to  consent  to  the  marriage  of  his  daughter  to  Caesar 
Borgia.  The  Council  of  Trent  wholly  forbade  seignorial  inter- 
ference, yet  complaints  are  heard  of  it  as  late  as  1576  and  1614, 
and  in  1623  it  was  necessary  for  Philip  IV.  of  Spain  to  forbid  it 
in  Franche-Comte.  The  royal  right  was  still  exercised  in  France 
in  the  seventeenth  century.  In  the  eighteenth  it  died  away, 
save  that  the  king's  consent  was  still  required  in  the  case  of 
princes  of  the  blood  and  grandees.  Napoleon  made  a  last  effort 
to  revive  it.^ 

Nor  did  the  Church  get  its  own  way  with  regard  to  divorce  at 
one  blow.  Constantine  did  not  attempt  to  prohibit  divorce,  but 
confined  himself  to  the  imposition  of  pecuniary  penalties  accord- 
ing to  the  cause.  But  Theodosius  and  Honorius  in  421  carried 
the  matter  a  step  further,  prohibiting  re-marriage  in  case  either 
husband  or  wife  divorced  the  other  party  without  sufficient 
reason.  The  next  step  was  the  abolition  of  divorce  by  mutual 
consent  by  Justinian;  but  this  step  proved  unpopular,  and 
the  law  was  repealed  by  Justin,  who  substantially  re-enacted 
the  Theodosian  code ;  and  the  Church  did  not  get  its  way  in  the 
Byzantine  Empire  until  the  reign  of  the  Emperor  Leo.' 

the  dismissal  of  a  mistress  for  a  wife  of  free  statvis,  "  Ancillam  a  toro 
abjicere  et  uxorem  certse  ingenuitatis  accipere  non  diiplicatio  conjugii 
sed  profectus  est  honestatis  "  (Pope  Leo,  in  Decret.  Orat.,  p.  1123).  This 
was  to  invest  the  most  callous  and  heartless  form  of  wickedness  with  an 
air  of  piety. 

^  Connected  with  the  merchet  was  the  fine  for  incontinence  payable  to 
the  lord,  since  in  the  loss  of  virginity  there  was  a  risk  that  the  chance  of 
marriage  might  be  lost  and  therewith  the  lord's  merchet  might  never 
accrue.  Yet  the  merchet  appears  to  have  been  sometimes  paid  by  free- 
men, and  not  universally  by  serfs  (Vinogradoff,  Villeinage  in  England, 
p.  153).  For  a  striking  picture  of  the  arbitrary  marriage  of  serfs  by  a 
Russian  proprietor  in  the  modern  period,  see  Kropotkin,  Memoirs  of  a 
B evolutionist,  vol.  i.  p.  61. 

3  Viollet,  p.  410-414. 

^  By  the  law  of  Constantine,  the  wife  could  divorce  her  husband  for 
murder,  the  preparation  of  poisons,  or  the  violation  of  a  tomb.  If  she 
divorced  him  for  any  other  cause,  she  forfeited  her  dowry  and  was  liable  to 
deportation.  The  husband  could  divorce  the  wife  for  adultery,  the  pre- 
paration of  poisons,  and  for  acting  as  a  procuress.  If  he  divorced  her  for 
any  other  cause  he  forfeited  the  dowry,  and  if  he  married  again,  the  first 
wife  could  take  the  dowry  of  the  second.     The  legislation  of  Theodosiug 


WOMAN  AND  MARRIAGE  UNDER  CIVILIZATION    217 

In  Western  Europe  the  conquest  of  the  barbarians  was  gradual. 
In  the  eighth  and  ninth  centuries  the  capitularies  absolutely 
prohibited  divorce,  yet  exceptions  were  admitted  subsequently 
here  and  there.  In  the  Canon  Law  itself  traces  of  a  more  lenient 
view  appear.^  Dissolution  of  marriage  for  impotence  is  not  in 
accordance  with  the  Roman  custom,  but,  says  a  rescript  of 
Alexander  III.,  "  if  the  custom  of  the  Gallic  Church  so  had  it, 
we  will  patiently  endure  it."  ^  Moreover,  a  case  is  recorded  in 
which  a  husband,  having  been  absent  for  more  than  ten  years 
and  refusing  to  return,  a  bishop  had  pronounced  him  divorced, 
and  declared  the  wife  free  to  marry.  Though  this  decision  is  not 
confirmed,  and  nothing  apparently  came  of  it,  yet  it  is  held, 
in  view  of  the  bishop's  sentence,  that  the  children  of  the  wife 
in  this  case  are  to  be  deemed  legitimate.^  All  these  doubts 
and  exceptions  were  swept  away  by  the  Council  of  Trent,  and 
to  the  present  day  in  countries  dominated  by  the  Canon  Law 
there  exists  no  divorce  dissolving  the  vinculum  matrimonii  by 
the  ordinary  law.*    The  Pope,  of  course,  having  the  power  of  the 

and  Honorius  in  421  allowed  the  wife  to  divorce  for  grave  reasons,  including 
crime,  but  if  she  divorced  her  husband  for  moderate  faults,  including 
"  criminal  conduct,"  she  forfeited  her  dowry,  became  incapable  of  re- 
marriage and  liable  to  deportation.  The  husband,  if  divorcing  for  serious 
crime,  retained  the  dowry;  if  for  "  criminal  conduct,"  he  did  not  retain  it 
but  could  naarry  again ;  if  for  mere  dislike,  he  forfeited  the  common  pro- 
perty and  could  not  marry  again.  In  449,  after  an  experimental  restoration 
of  the  law  of  the  early  empire,  Theodosius  specified  twelve  offences  (includ- 
ing cruelty  and  adultery)  for  which  a  wife  could  divorce  her  husband.  The 
same  mutatis  mutandis  applied  to  the  husband,  but  he  could  further  go  upon 
the  ground  that  his  wife  dined  with  men  without  his  knowledge,  left  home 
at  night  without  adequate  cause,  or  frequented  the  circvis,  etc.,  after  being 
forbidden  to  do  so.  If  he  divorced  her  for  any  other  reason,  he  forfeited 
the  dowry  and  property  brought  into  the  marriage.  If  she  did  so  she 
suffered  the  same  penalty,  and  could  not  marry  again  for  three  years. 

Justinian  took  the  further  step  of  abolishing  divorce  by  mutual  consent 
under  penalty  of  being  immured  in  a  monastery,  and  he  re-enacted  the 
Theodosian  law  of  divorce  by  one  party  with  some  modifications  of  detail. 
Divorce  by  mutual  consent  was  re-introduced  by  Justin  and  finally  abolished 
by  Leo  (Bryce,  ii.  408,  and  Howard,  ii.  28-33). 

^  Still  more  clearly  do  the  Penitentials  of  this  period  show  the  com- 
promise necessary  to  adjust  the  Canon  Law  to  Germanic  custom  (Howard, 
ii.  46). 

^  Decret.  Oreg.,  705.  In  other  chapters  divorce  for  impotence  is  recog- 
nized under  conditions.  In  Gratian's  view  it  would  prevent  the  com- 
pletion of  marriage  (for  conjugium  confirmatur  officio),  but  if  occurring  after 
consummation,  would  not  be  a  ground  of  dissolution  (1149). 

^  Decret.  Oreg.  IX.,  Corpus  Juris,  p.  713. 

*  On  the  other  hand,  down  to  the  Coimcil  of  Trent,  the  recognition  of 
clandestine  marriages  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  complicated  system  of 
restrictions  on  the  other,  made  the  annulment  of  marriage  only  too  easy. 
On  the  whole,  the  marriage  tie  during  the  Middle  Ages  seems  to  have  been 
almost  as  loose  in  practice  as  it  was  rigid  in  theory. 


218  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

Keys,  can  override  all  laws,  but  this  does  not  affect  the  general 
principle,  nor  does  it  bring  relief  to  those  who  are  without  the 
means  of  setting  the  spiritual  machinery  in  motion. 

11.  Both  as  to  the  tutelage  of  women  and  as  to  the  general 
power  of  the  father  the  early  Germanic  law  in  large  measure 
reproduced  the  features  of  early  Rome.  Both  were  modified 
by  the  impact  of  civilization,  of  the  civil  law  and  of  Christian 
influences.  But  they  were  modified  in  different  ways.  The 
father's  power  decayed  more  rapidly  and  more  completely  than 
the  husband's,  and  while  the  unmarried  woman  became  personally 
free,  the  wife  remained  sub  virga  mariti. 

The  primitive  German  father  had  the  power  of  life  and  death 
over  his  children.^  At  any  rate  he  could  expose  them  before 
they  had  taken  food,^  and  he  could  sell  his  children  certainly, 
and  in  most  tribes  probably  his  wife  also,  into  slavery.  Even 
in  the  seventh  century  the  Church  has  to  admit  the  right  of  a 
father  to  sell  a  son  under  seven  into  slavery.^  Down  to  the 
ninth  century  the  husband  was  possibly  within  his  rights  in 
killing  his  wife  for  a  "  good  "  reason.*  The  Lombard  law  ran, 
"  Non  licet  cam  interficere  ad  suum  libitum  sed  rationabiliter," 
and  at  Worms,  in  the  eleventh  century,  witnesses  were  asked, 
"  Est  aliquis  qui  uxorem  suam  absque  lege  aut  probatione 
interfecerit  ?  "  ^  The  sale  of  children  had  been  prohibited  in 
the  Empire  by  Diocletian,  but  the  law  was  found  to  lead  to 
infanticide,  and  it  was  again  allowed  by  Constantine,  though 
at  birth  only,  and  that  with  an  option  of  redemption.  It  was 
prohibited  by  the  laws  of  the  Visigoths  and  by  the  Carlovingians, 
but  instances  in  which  it  occurred  are  quoted  from  French  law- 
books as  late  as  the  fifteenth  century.  The  sale  of  a  wife  appears 
in  the  eleventh  century  at  Cologne,^  and  in  the  same  century 
Cnut  had  to  forbid  the  sale  of  a  woman  to  a  man  whom  she 
disliked.' 

^  Waitz,  Verfassungsgeschichte,  49. 

s  Viollet,  497,  499. 

*  Pollock  and  Maitland,  History  of  English  Law,  ii.  436. 

«  Viollet,  p.  500. 

°  Viollet,  loc.  cit.  Even  in  the  Canon  Law  the  murder  of  a  faithless  wife 
is  somewhat  faintly  deprecated.  Gratian  is  at  pains  to  show  that  the 
apparent  countenance  given  by  Pope  Nicholas  refers  to  the  practice  of 
civil  law  alone,  but  Pope  Pins,  whom  he  also  quotes,  merely  says,  "  Qui- 
cunque  propriam  uxorem  absque  lege  vel  sine  causa  et  certa  probatione 
interfecerit  aliamque  duxerit  uxorem,  armis  depositis  publicam  agat 
poenitentiam  "  (1162).  Gratian  himself  is  clear  that  the  murder  of  an 
adulteress  is  unlawful  (1154). 

«  Viollet,  p.  502.  ^  Pollock  and  Maitland,  ii.  364. 


WOMAN  AND  MARRIAGE  UNDER  CIVILIZATION    219 

While  these  grosser  excesses  of  marital  and  paternal  power 
died  away  during  the  earlier  Middle  Ages,  the  subjection  of 
the  wife  remained.  But  of  the  wife  only>  From  the  Conquest 
onwards  the  unmarried  English  woman  on  attaining  her  majority 
became  fully  equipped  ^  with  all  legal  and  civil  rights,  ^s  much 
a  legal  personality  as  the  Babylonian  woman  had  been  three 
thousand  years  before.  But  the  wife  was  still,  if  not  the  husband's 
slave,  at  any  rate  his  liege  subject.  Her  personality  is  merged 
in  his.  The  law  does  not  hold  her  responsible  even  for  crimes 
committed  in  his  presence,  and  therefore  it  is  presumed  under  his 
influence  and  authority.  If  she  kills  him  it  is  petty  treason — 
the  revolt  of  a  subject  against  a  sovereign  in  a  miniature 
kingdom.  She  could  not  bring  an  action  against  him  nor  he 
against  her.  But.  of  course,  the  theory  could  not  be  pushed  to 
its  full  length.  The  wife  was  human,  and  so,  after  all,  were 
the  legists,  and  if  ill-treated  she  could  go  to  the  ecclesiastical 
courts  for  protection,  and  if  the  husband  was  obstinate  they 
could  call  in  the  poT\^er  of  the  secular  arm.^  The  King's  Court 
would  punish  him  for  maltreating  her,*  but  the  right  of  chastise- 
ment remained,  and  the  history  thereof,  together  with  the  whole 
theory  of  marriage  thereunto  appertaining,  is  explained  with 
much  unconscious  humour  by  Blackstone. 

"  The  ver}^  being  or  legal  existence  of  the  woman  is  suspended 
during  the  marriage,  or  at  least  is  incorporated  and  consolidated 
into  that  of  the  husband,  under  whose  wing,  protection  and 
cover,  she  performs  everything."  Hence  a  man  cannot  grant 
anything  directly  to  his  wife,  or  contract  with  her,  "  for  the 

^  Wliile  vinmarried  women  become  emancipated,  the  wife  remains  sub- 
ject to  her  husband's  correction.  In  Normandy,  in  the  thirteenth  century, 
it  is  held  that  a  man  could  not  be  prosecuted  for  beating  his  wife,  slave, 
son,  or  daughter,  or  any  one  "  en  sa  mesgnie."  And  it  is  the  same  in 
other  parts  of  France,  though  in  Flanders  the  magistrates  condemned  a 
husband  for  beating  his  wife  till  the  blood  flowed.  The  subservience  of 
the  wife  was  expressed  by  her  waiting  at  table,  kissing  the  husband's  knees 
and  calling  him  her  lord  (Viollet,  pp.  503-604).  As  to  property,  however, 
in  France  and  some  parts  of  Germany  a  doctrine  of  community  of  goods 
grew  up  in  which  the  husband  had  the  right  of  management,  but  the 
rights  of  the  wife  were  considerable.  And  owing  to  the  law  of  dower, 
the  French  wife  in  the  thirteenth  century  could  institute  an  action  without 
her  husband's  consent,  which  at  present  she  cannot  do  (Viollet,  p.  293). 
Here,  however,  we  touch  on  the  indirect  consequences  of  laws  of  property, 
rather  than  on  customs  flowing  from  the  central  conception  of  the  position 
of  women. 

2  Pollock  and  Maitland,  ii.  437.  The  writers  do  not  consider  it  clearly 
established  that  a  life-long  tu!ela  of  women  ever  existed  in  England,  aa 
among  the  other  Germanic  peoples. 

*  In  1224  a  wife  obtained  a  writ  directing  a  sheriff  to  provide  her  with 
maintenance  out  of  the  husband's  lands  (Pollock  and  Maitland,  ii.  435). 

*  Pollock  and  Maitland,  ii.  436. 


220  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

grant  would  be  to  suppose  her  separate  existence,  and  to  cove- 
nant with  her  would  be  only  to  covenant  with  himself."  He  is 
bound  to  provide  her  with  necessaries,  but  for  anything  besides 
necessaries  he  is  not  chargeable.  She  can  bring  no  action 
without  his  concurrence,  nor  be  sued  without  making  him  a 
defendant.  In  criminal  cases  she  may  be  convicted  and  punished 
separately,  but  she  is  considered  as  acting  under  his  orders,  and 
in  some  felonies  (though  not  murder)  she  is  excused,  if  acting 
under  his  constraint. 

"  The  husband  also  (by  the  old  law)  might  give  his  wife 
moderate  correction.  For,  as  he  is  to  answer  for  her  misbe- 
haviour, the  law  thought  it  reasonable  to  entrust  him  with  the 
power  of  restraining  her,  by  domestic  chastisement,  in  the  same 
moderation  that  a  man  is  allowed  to  correct  his  apprentices 
or  children."  ..."  But  this  power  of  correction  was  confined 
within  reasonable  bounds,  and  the  husband  was  prohibited  from 
using  any  violence  to  his  wife,  '  aliter  quam  ad  virum,  ex  causa 
regiminis  et  castigationis  uxoris  suae,  licite  et  rationabiliter 
jiertinet.'  The  civil  law  gave  the  husband  the  same,  or  a  larger 
authority,  over  his  wife,  allowing  him  for  some  misdeamours, 
'  flagellis  et  fustibus  acriter  verberare  uxorem  ' ;  for  others, 
only  '  modicam  castigationem  adhibere  '  (Nov.  117,  c.  14).  But, 
with  us,  in  the  politer  reign  of  Charles  II.,  this  power  of  cor- 
rection began  to  be  doubted,  and  a  wife  may  now  have  security 
of  the  peace  agamst  her  husband;  or,  in  return,  a  husband 
against  his  wife.  Yet  the  lower  rank  of  people,  who  were 
always  fond  of  the  old  common  law,  still  claim  and  exert  their 
antient  privilege,  and  the  courts  of  law  will  still  permit  a 
husband  to  restrain  a  wife  of  her  liberty  in  case  of  any  gross 
misbehaviour.  These  are  the  chief  legal  effects  of  marriage 
during  the  coverture,  upon  which  we  may  observe,  that  even 
the  disabilities  which  the  wife  lies  under  are  for  the  most  part 
intended  for  her  protection  and  benefit.  So  great  a  favourite 
is  the  female  sex  of  the  laws  of  England."  ^ 

12.  With  Blackstone  we  arrive  at  the  middle  of  the  modern 
period,  and  we  find  the  position  of  woman  somewhat  anomalous. 
In  particular,  the  legal  status  of  the  married  and  unmarried 
woman  stood  in  strong  contrast.  The  gradually  deepening 
sense  of  personal  rights  extended  itself  to  women  as  well  as  to 
men,  and  we  have  seen  that  the  Church  worked  along  with 
the  growing  sentiment  of  social  justice  to  emancipate  the  un- 
married woman  from  bondage,  and  make  her  her  own  mistress 

1  Blackstone,  vol.  i.  pp.  430-433  (edition  1765). 


WOMAN  AND  MARRIAGE  UNDER  CIVILIZATION    221 

in  the  most  important  matter  of  her  own  marriage.  Women 
as  such,  had  few,  if  any,  disqualifications  as  to  the  tenure  of 
property,  as  to  inheritance,  and  as  to  the  full  exercise  of  legal 
and  civil  rights. ^  Though  still  debarred  from  the  professions, 
they  were,  generally  speaking,  competent  as  witnesses,  could 
sue  and  be  sued  like  a  man,  could  inherit  and  bequeath  freely ; 
few,  if  any,  relics  of  the  tutela  remain  beyond  the  years  of 
minority  .2  Further,  the  sentiment  that  first  becomes  marked 
in  mediaeval  literature  had  given  them  a  position  in  the  esteem 
of  man  which  it  would  be  difficult  to  parallel  in  earlier  thought.' 
Yet  in  law  the  whole  personality  of  the  married  woman  was 
as  much  as  ever  absorbed  in  that  of  her  husband.  In  this 
direction  the  old  conception  of  the  right  of  the  husband  was 
modified  rather  than  combated  by  the  infiuences  of  religion 
and  the  romantic  attitude  to  women  and  marriage.  For  if 
these  influences  emphasized  the  beauty  of  womanliness,  it  was 
a  beauty  which  depended  on  meekness  and  self-denial.  The 
strength  of  woman  was  in  her  weakness.  She  conquered  by 
yielding.  Her  gentleness  had  to  be  guarded  from  the  turmoil 
of  the  world,  her  fragrance  to  be  kept  sweet  and  fresh,  away 
from  its  dust  and  the  smoke  of  battles.  Hence  her  need  of 
a  champion  and  guardian.  Again,  in  the  romantic  view  of 
marriage  the  two  beings  were  united  in  one,  and  this  was  easily 
interpreted  to  mean  that  the  woman  was  merged  in  the  man 
and  against  him  was  rightless,  or  had  a  claim  to  protection  only 
in  the  most  extreme  cases.  Thus  the  law,  as  Blackstone  with 
his  sleek  satisfaction  expounds  it,  was  not  far  removed  from 
prevailing  sentiment  either  in  what  it  gave  to  women  or  in  what 
it  withheld.  Yet  Blackstone  wrote  two  centuries  after  the 
Reformation,  and  the  Reformation  had  already  begun  to  break 

^  Except  in  relation  to  property  the  history  of  the  position  of  women 
was  broadly  ahke  on  the  Continent  and  in  England. 

*  I  need  not  here  deal  with  exceptions  which  are  interesting  enough  as 
survivals.     For  certain  disabilities  in  modern  French  law,  see  VioUet,  p.  291. 

'  Two  opposed  streams  of  thought  are  discerned  in  the  Christian  teaching 
as  to  woman.  On  the  one  hand,  Christianity,  and  particularly  Catholicism, 
was  essentially  a  feminine  religion.  Its  appeal  was  to  the  womanly  type, 
and  among  women  at  all  periods  it  has  found  its  heartiest  response. 
Though  debarred  from  the  priesthood,  as  saints,  martjTS,  and  virgins, 
women  occupied  a  high  place  in  the  hagiology,  and  a  woman  was  the  mother 
of  God.  On  the  other  hand,  woman  was  no  less  certainly  the  door  of  hell, 
the  source  of  temptations,  the  corrupter  even  of  the  saints.  The  filthiest 
view  of  love  and  marriage  was  taken  by  the  ascetics  and  is  embodied  in  the 
Penitentials.  The  horrible  saints  of  the  desert  could  scarcely  bear  to  see 
a  sister  or  a  mother  (Lecky,  ii.  127).  A  fair  estimate  of  the  influence  of 
Christianity  as  a  whole,  for  which,  perhaps,  sufficient  material  has  not  yet 
been  accumulated,  must  at  least  give  full  weight  to  both  these  tendencies. 
On  the  whole  subject,  see  Lecky,  especially  vol.  ii.  p.  316  seq. 


222  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

up  the  canonical  view  of  marriage.  The  Reformers  differed 
from  the  Romish  Church  in  two  points  of  capital  importance. 
They  declined  to  regard  marriage  either  as  a  Sacrament  ^  or  as 
a  concession  to  the  weakness  of  the  flesh.  On  the  contrary, 
they  considered  it  the  most  desira.ble  state  for  man.  Hence, 
on  the  one  hand  the  abolition  of  celibacy  amongst  the  clergy, 
and  on  the  other  the  tendency  to  treat  marriage  as  a  civil  contract 
and  the  revival  of  divorce,  freedom  in  which  latter  respect  was 
advocated  by  many  great  Protestant  writers,  and  notably  by 
Milton.2  But  in  cutting  itself  free  from  the  legal  and  moral 
structure  built  up  by  the  mediaeval  Church,  Protestantism  failed 
to  provide  a  clear  and  consistent  standard  of  its  own.  The 
conception  of  the  marria^ge  relation  as  a  civil  contract  was  not 
at  bottom  compatible  with  the  rigorous  treatment  of  the  most 
venial  sexual  irregularity  as  a  religious  offence  of  the  deepest 
dye,  and  the  Old  Testament  influences  v/hich  made  the  husband 
absolute  head  of  the  family  suited  ill  with  the  measure  of  equality 
already  conceded  to  the  wife.^  Hence,  even  in  Protestant 
countries  legislation  moved  but  slowly,  and  on  the  whole  it  was 
only  during  the  nineteenth  century  and  under  new  influences 
that  the  law  of  marriage  and  the  position  of  women  underwent 
a  fundamental  change.    The  modern  conception  of  personal 

'  t.  e.  not  in  the  magical  sense.  In  the  spiritual  sense,  Luther  regarded 
the  word  "  sacrament  "  as  necessary  to  express  the  holiness  of  the  marriage 
state  (Howard,  i.  387). 

^  Adultery  and  malicious  desertion,  widened  so  as  to  include  cruelty, 
wore  reckoned  by  the  continental  reformers  generally  as  good  causes  of 
divorce,  and  it  was  agreed  that  re-marriage  was  allowable  to  the  innocent 
party  (Howard,  ii.  62,  65,  etc.).  The  English  reformers  followed  somewhat 
more  cautiously  in  the  same  line  (ib.,  p.  73). 

'  The  influence  of  the  Old  Testament  told  both  ways  on  the  reformers. 
On  the  one  hand,  it  aided  them  in  cutting  down  on  the  whole  to  reasonable 
limits  the  absiurd  mass  of  restrictions  on  marriage  which  the  medieeval 
Church  had  accimaulated.  On  the  other,  it  tended  to  justify  a  barbaric 
view  of  the  prerogatives  of  the  husband,  and  led  Luther  and  other  early 
reformers  to  admit  polygamy  and  concubinage. 

The  fierceness  of  Puritan  sentiment  in  regard  to  the  sins  of  the  flesh 
appears  to  combine  Old  Testament  barbarism  with  early  Christian  con- 
demnation of  unchastity.  The  early  reformers  considered  death  the  appro- 
priate penalty  for  adultery,  and  in  the  American  colonies,  where  Pro- 
testantism most  influenced  legislation,  savage  penalties  were  imposed,  not 
only  for  adultery,  but  even  for  the  pre-nuptial  incontinence  of  betrothed 
persons,  e.  g.  couples  who  had  children  bom  within  seven  months  of  mar- 
riage were  publicly  flogged.  See  the  extraordinary  collection  of  sentences 
in  Howard,  vol.  ii.  p.  169  seq.  Here  are  records  of  sentences  :  "  A.  F.,  for 
having  a  child  bom  six  weeks  before  the  ordinary  time  of  women  after 
marriage,  fined  for  imcleanness  and  whipt,  and  his  wife  set  in  the  stocks." 
"  C.  E.,  for  abusing  himself  with  his  wife  before  marriage,  sentenced  to  be 
whipt  publicly  at  the  post,  she  to  stand  by  while  the  execution  is  performed. 
Done,  and  he  fined  five  pounds  for  the  trouble  "  (p.  ISO). 


WOMAN  AND  MARRIAGE  UNDER  CIVILIZATION    223 

rights  proved  to  be  incompatible  with  the  old  marriage  law,  and 
indeed  with  the  mediajvai  sentiment  in  regard  to  women.  Apply- 
ing the  doctrine  that  moral  worth  and  the  adequate  realization 
of  character  imply  full  responsibility,  it  has  dismissed  as  a  piece 
of  false  sentiment  the  ideal  of  feminine  innocence  shrouded  from 
the  world,  has  bade  women  take  their  own  lives  in  hand,  and  in 
considerable  measure  broken  down  the  barriers  which  debarred 
them  from  other  occupations  than  that  of  marriage.^  Within 
marriage  it  has  revolutionized  the  position  of  the  wife,  giving 
back  to  her  the  personal  independence  which  she  enjoj^ed  under 
the  later  Roman  law.  This  change  was  not  consummated  in 
England  until  the  Married  Women's  Property  Acts  of  1870  and 
1882.  As  we  have  seen  from  Blackstone,  women  had  acquired 
personal  protection  from  the  wife-beating  husband  during  "  the 
politer  reign  of  Charles  II.,"  but  their  property,  except  where 
protected  by  settlement,  remained  at  the  absolute  disposal  of 
their  lord  and  master.  This  protection  was  a  privilege  of  the 
daughters  of  the  propertied  classes.  There  was  literally  no 
protection  for  the  wife  of  a  drunkard  struggling  to  support  her 
children  by  the  labour  of  her  hands  from  the  husband  who 
should  choose  to  sponge  upon  what  she  earned.  Such  earnings 
were  emancipated  from  the  husband's  control  by  the  Act  of 
1870.  In  1882  the  same  j)rinciples  were  applied  to  all  property; 
and  the  EngHsh  law,  which  was  the  most  backward  in  Europe, 
became  in  twelve  years  the  most  forward,  Russia  and  Itaty, 
strange  combination,  being  the  only  other  countries  which  fully 
recognized  the  independence  of  the  wife's  property  in  the  absence 
of  a  settlement. 2 

^  Though  there  have  been  tunes  in  earher  history  when  women  have,  in 
fact,  taken  a  prominent  part  in  intellectual  or  public  life  (witness,  c.  y. 
India  in  Buddha's  time),  the  systematic  and  reasoned  insistence  on  the 
claims  of  women  to  free  admission  to  any  occupation  for  which  they  can  fit 
themselves,  seem — apart  from  the  case  of  Plato — to  be  almost  confined  to 
the  latter  half  of  the  modern  period.  Works  in  defence  of  women's  rights 
appear  sporadically  in  England,  France,  and  Grermany,  from  the  end  of  the 
seventeenth  century  onwards.  The  first  which  is  now  at  all  remembered, 
however,  is  probably  Mary  Wollstonecraft's  Vindication,  published  in 
1792  (Howard,  op.  ciL,  iii.  238,  239). 

^  The  movement  of  other  coiuitries  is,  however,  in  the  same  direction. 
Sweden  emancipated  the  wife's  earnings  in  1874,  Denmark  in  1880, 
Norway  in  1888 ;  the  German  Civil  Code  places  the  wife's  earnings  amongst 
her  separate  property  which  is  beyond  the  husband's  control.  Property 
bequeathed  to  the  wife  is  separate  only  when  so  stipiilated  by  the  donor. 

Our  Married  Women's  Property  Act  applies  to  England  and  Ireland  only. 
In  Scotland,  by  the  Acts  of  1877  and  1881,  the  wife  acquired  complete 
control  of  her  earnings  and  income  from  personalty.  But  she  may  not 
dispose  of  the  principal  sum  without  her  husband's  consent.  It  should, 
however,  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  Scottish  common  law  gave  the  wifg 
substantial  claiiixs  on  the  husband's  estate. 


224  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

13.  Thus  the  tendency  of  the  modern  marriage  law  is  to 
guarantee  to  the  wife  equality  of  civil  status,  with  full  legal 
protection  for  her  person  and  free  disposal  of  her  property. 
We  are  next  to  consider  its  effect  upon  the  permanence  of  the 
marriage  tie.  In  the  previous  stages  of  the  development  of 
marriage  which  have  been  traced  we  have  seen  it  treated — 

1st.  As  an  imperfectly-organized  relation  which  does  not 
identify  husband  and  wife  as  members  of  one  family. 

2nd.  As  an  act  of  appropriation  by  capture,  purchase  or 
service,  whereby  the  wife  has  passed  into  a  semi-servile  relation. 

3rd.  As  a  sacrament,  whereby  an  indissoluble  union  was 
created  which  man  could  not  undo.^ 

4th.  In  the  Roman  Law,  and  perhaps  in  that  of  Egypt,  as  a 
contract  on  specified  terms,  revocable  at  the  will  of  one  party  or 
of  both,  or,  finally,  voidable  under  certain  specified  conditions. 

The  law  of  modern  countries  since  the  Reformation  appears  to 
have  fluctuated  between  the  two  latter  conceptions  of  marriage. 

The  French  law  is  not  easily  to  be  compared  with  ours.  Here  and  in 
similar  codes  there  are  mutual  obligations  which,  in  a  measure,  compensate 
the  wife  for  a  certain  loss  of  liberty.  The  code  states  that  the  husband 
owes  her  protection  and  the  wife  owes  him  obedience.  She  is  under  an 
obligation  to  live  with  him,  and  he  to  receive  her  and  furnish  her  with 
everything  necessary  for  the  wants  of  life  according  to  his  means  and 
station.  She  has  the  absolute  right  to  the  one-half  of  everything  he  earns, 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  she  may  not,  without  authority,  alienate  property 
even  if  it  be  her  own,  nor  can  she  sue  even  if  she  be  carrying  on  a  trade, 
nor  make  a  contract,  without  his  authorization.  On  the  other  hand,  if  the 
authorization  is  unreasonably  refused,  she  may  apply  for  it  to  a  court. 

In  one  direction  the  primitive  marital  power  is  maintained  in  a  modified 
form  in  some  continental,  particularly  in  Latin,  countries.  In  France  the 
husband  still  has  the  right  to  kill  the  paramour  of  his  wife  taken  in  the 
act.  This  is  perhaps  of  the  nature  of  a  concession  to  the  strength  of  passion. 
But  further,  the  husband,  and  he  alone,  can  denounce  his  wife  to  the 
tribunals  for  adultery,  and  cause  her  to  be  imprisoned  for  not  less  than 
three  months  or  more  than  two  years  at  his  pleasure.  "  Le  mari  restera  le 
maitre  d'arreter  I'effet  de  cette  condamnation  en  consentant  a  reprendre  sa 
femme  "  (Penal  Code,  336,  337 ;  Viollet,  p.  505).  This  is  a  survival  of 
the  law  of  the  Ancien  Regime,  by  which  the  husband  might  immure  the 
adulteress  in  a  monastery,  or  even  in  a  house  of  correction,  by  an  authority 
obtained  from  the  king.     The  imprisonment  might  be  for  life. 

The  German  Civil  Code  breaks  wholly  with  the  naarital  power,  by 
equalizing  the  crime  of  husband  and  wife.  Yet  it  preserves  the  private 
character  of  the  offence  by  making  adultery  punishable  with  imprisonment 
on  the  application  of  the  injured  party. 

The  Portuguese  under  the  old  regime  erected  a  monument  more  durable 
than  brass  to  the  Catholic  interpretation  of  equal  moral  responsibility  by 
a  law  which  punishes  the  adultery  of  the  wife  with  from  two  to  three  years* 
hard  labour,  and  of  the  husband,  if  committed  vmder  the  conjugal  roof, 
with  a  fine  of  not  less  than  £2,  nor  more  than  £480. 

^  In  this  relation,  the  religioiis  marriage  may  fittingly  be  enumerated  as 
a  distinct  type. 


WOMAN  AND  MARRIAGE  UNDER  CIVILIZATION    225 

Countries  which  have  maintained  the  rule  of  the  Roman  Church, 
of  course,  do  not  allow  divorce  under  any  circumstances  what- 
ever. This  is  the  case  with  Italy,  Spain  and,  till  the  revolution, 
Portugal  in  Europe ;  and  with  Mexico,  Brazil,  Chili,  the  Argentine 
Republic,  and  most  of  the  South  American  States.  In  some 
states  of  mixed  religions  the  Canon  Law  is  applied  to  Catholics  : 
thus  in  Austria  there  is  no  divorce  even  if  one  party  to  the 
marriage  should  not  be  a  Catholic.^  The  same  riile  applies  in 
Hungary. 

The  Greek  Church,  adhering  in  the  main  to  the  traditions  of 
the  Roman  Law  as  re-modelled  by  Justinian,  allows  divorce, 
and  it  is  an  interesting  jjoint  of  historical  continuity  that  the 
law  of  divorce  in  Greece  at  the  present  day  is,  with  unimportant 
amendments,^  that  established  by  Justinian.^ 

In  France  divorce  was  unknown  until  1792,  and  a  wife  could 
not  even  obtain  a  separation  from  an  unfaithful  husband.  In 
that  year  the  Convention  went  to  the  other  extreme,  admitting 
divorce,  not  only  by  mutual  consent,  but  even  for  incompati- 

^  In  Bavaria  and  in  Wurtemberg,  before  the  consolidation  of  the  German 
law  under  the  new  Imperial  code,  there  was  no  absolute  divorce  for  Catholics, 
but  the  restriction  did  not  apply  to  mixed  marriages  {Parliamentary 
Papers,  1894;   Miscellaneous,  No.  2,  p.  24). 

^  Parliamentary  Papers,  1894;   Misc.,  No.  2,  p.  81. 

*  The  law  of  the  Greek  Church  is  followed  pretty  closely  in  Servia. 
Divorce  cases  are  tried  by  the  spiritual  courts,  and  the  grounds  are  : 
Adultery,  an  attempt  on  the  life  of  either  consort,  treason,  leaving  the 
Church,  "  if  the  wife  without  the  husband  visits  the  baths,  beer  gardens, 
or  other  suspicious  places  with  men,  or  if  the  husband  brings  strange 
women  into  his  house,  or  keeps  them  elsewhere,"  an  accusation  of  adultery 
against  an  innocent  wife,  or  urging  her  to  unchastity,  condenination  to 
seven  years'  imprisonment,  desertion  for  seven  years  or  for  three  years, 
if  the  hiisband  has  left  the  country  and  cannot  be  traced,  or  for  four  years 
if  it  is  proved  to  be  wilful. 

In  Russia  the  rules  of  divorce  vary  according  to  the  religion  of  the  parties, 
but  it  is  admitted  both  for  the  Russo-Greek  and  the  Lutheran  in  cases 
where  the  fault  of  one  party  has  violated  or  practically  nullified  the  marriage 
contract  {Parly.  Papers,  ib.,  p.  128). 

In  the  case  of  members  of  the  Russo-Greek  Church,  the  grounds  of 
divorce  are  :  Adultery  (though  only  when  provable  by  an  eye-witness), 
impotence,  a  sentence  involving  a  loss  of  civil  rights,  five  years'  desertion. 
It  should  be  noted  that  the  guilty  party  may  be  condemned  to  celibacy  for 
adultery.  Among  members  of  the  Lutheran  Chiirch  the  grounds  are  : 
Adultery,  prenuptial  unchastity  of  the  wife,  attempt  to  poison,  five  years' 
desertion,  repugnance  to  marital  intercourse,  refusal  to  fulfil  conjugal 
duties,  incurable  infectious  disease,  madness,  depravity  of  life,  cruelty  and 
offensive  treatment,  attempted  dishonour,  unnatural  propensities,  crimes 
involving  capital  punishment  or  penal  exile. 

In  Roumania  divorce  is  allowed  by  mutual  consent  of  the  parties, 
provided  that  the  court  is  satisfied  that  the  maintenance  of  a  common  life 
is  impossible,  that  the  separation  is  sanctioned  by  the  parents,  and  provision 
is  made  for  the  maintenance  of  the  wife  and  children  {Parly.  Papers,  ib., 
pp.  126,  127). 

Q 


226  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

bility  of  temper  alleged  by  one  party.  There  was  a  re-action 
under  the  Directory  in  1795,  and  in  1797  the  Church  re-affirmed 
the  indissolubility  of  marriage.  Napoleon,  however,  allowed 
divorce  by  mutual  consent  under  some  restrictions.^  On  the 
restoration  of  the  Bourbons  divorce  was  entirely  suppressed 
(1816),  and  though  its  re-introduction  was  voted  by  the  Chamber 
in  1831,  it  was  thrown  out  by  the  Peers,  and  there  was  no  divorce 
in  France  until  1884.  Under  the  law  of  that  year  and  of 
1886  the  grounds  of  divorce  are  equal  for  either  party,  and 
are — 

(1)  Adultery. 


TExces. 


(2)  J,  Se vices, 
[injures  graves. 

(3)  Conviction  for  crimes  involving  certain  aggravated 
punishments. 

"  Exces  "  is  Interpreted  to  mean  acts  of  violence  endangering 
life;  "  sevices,"  other  acts  of  violence;  while  as  to  "  injures  " 
involving  lesser  misconduct,  the  courts  have  a  wide  discre- 
tion. They  take  it  generally  to  cover  calumnious  imputations, 
desertion,  refusal  of  cohabitation,  and  habitual  drunkenness.^ 

In  Germany  the  revolutionary  epoch  left  its  mark,  and  by 
the  Prussian  Code  of  1794  divorce  was  allowed  for  any  of  ten 
causes,  including  mutual  consent  in  case  of  insuperable  aversion 
where  the  marriage  was  childless,  and  even  if  there  were  children 
where  the  cause  was  held  good  by  the  judge.     But  under  the 

1  The  husband  had  to  be  over  25,  and  the  wife  over  21;  they  must 
have  been  married  more  than  two  and  less  than  twenty  years.  The 
approval  of  the  parents  was  required,  and  a  proper  agreement  had  to  be 
made  for  the  maintenance  of  wife  and  children.  In  other  respects,  how- 
ever, the  law  was  not  equal  between  husband  and  wife,  as  she  could  not 
claim  divorce  for  adultery  unless  with  certain  aggravations  (Jeune,  art. 
"  Divorce,"  in  Ency.  Brit.). 

'  Belgium  preserves  the  Imperial  Code  of  1803,  but  Holland,  though  the 
law  of  marriage  is,  in  general,  based  on  that  code,  restricts  the  grounds  of 
divorce  to  adultery,  malicious  desertion,  imprisonment  for  over  four  years, 
and  ill-treatment  endangering  life  {Parly.  Papers,  ih.,  pp.  33  and  100). 
The  Grand  Duchy  of  Luxemburg,  keeping  closer  to  its  original,  "  allows 
the  mutual  and  continued  consent  of  both  parties  "  under  legal  conditions 
and  tests  to  be  "a  sufficient  proof  that  life  in  common  is  insupportable  to 
them  "  {Parly.  Papers,  ib.,  p.  90). 

In  Switzerland,  the  recognized  causes  are  adultery,  an  attempt  on  the 
life  of  either  party,  cruelty,  grave  indignities,  infamous  crime  or  base  con- 
duct rendering  married  life  intolerable,  malicious  desertion  for  two  years, 
insanity  (under  certain  conditions),  and,  finally,  conduct  rendering  married 
life  unbearable.  This  represents  a  slight  modification,  carried  in  1907,  of 
the  older  law,  which  was  criticized  as  facilitating  dissohition  for  trivial 
causes  {Report  of  Divorce  Commission,  p.  24;  cf.  Parly.  Papers,  Misc., 
No.  2  of  1894,  p.  150). 


WOMAN  AND  MAHRIAGE  UNDER  CIVILIZATION    227 

new  civil  code,  which  came  into  force  on  January  1,  1900,  the 
conditions  are  more  stringent,  the  grounds  recognized  being — 

(1)  Adultery;  which,  it  is  to  be  observed,  is  further  punish- 
able by  imprisonment  on  the  application  of  the  innocent  party. 

(2)  Endangering  of  life. 

(3)  Desertion.^ 

(4)  Insanity. 

(5)  Gross  neglect  of  duties  by  one  of  the  parties  or  the 
leading  of  such  an  immoral  or  dishonourable  life  as  entirely 
destroys  the  conjugal  relations. 

Denmark  ^  and  Sweden  ^  recognize  adultery,  desertion,  and 
conviction  of  serious  crime,  as  causes  of  divorce.  Norway,  by 
the  Act  of  1909,  has  gone  much  further  and  admitted  divorce 
after  a  separation  of  three  years,  or  a  shorter  time  if  there  has 
been  a  formal  decree.*  Portugal,  by  the  Act  of  1910,  also  allows 
divorce  by  mutual  consent  under  certain  conditions.^ 

Thus  the  divorce  laws  of  Europe  present  an  almost  bewildering 
variety.  To  find  some  order  and  method  in  them  we  may  group 
them  under  four  heads. 

There  are  (1)  the  countries  which  remain  imder  the  Canon 
Law  and  admit  no  divorce. 

There  are  (2)  countries  or  populations  governed  or  influenced 
by  the  law  of  the  Greek  Church,  running  back  to  Justinian. 

There  are  (3)  the  countries  governed  or  influenced  by  the  Code 
Napoleon. 

And  (4)  there  is  the  group  of  Protestant  countries. 

The  common  tendency  in  the  last  three  cases  is  to  place 
divorce  upon  an  equal  footing  for  both  parties,  and  to  permit 
it  in  all  cases  where  the  act  of  one  party  without  the  collusion 
of  the  other  has  practically  nullified  the  marriage  contract. 
Thus,  desertion  and  conviction  of  serious  crimes  are  generally 
recognized  causes;  but  in  countries  influenced  by  the  Code 
Civile  the  element  of  personal  injury  is  especially  pressed,  and 
where  this  is  loosely  interpreted  divorce  becomes  easy.     In  the 

^  Provided  that  the  giiilty  party  has  for  one  year  refused  to  obey  an 
order  for  restitution  of  the  conjugal  hfe,  or  has  refused  to  cohabit  for  one 
year,  having  gone  abroad  or  to  such  place  as  makes  commiuiication  dif&cult 
(Parly.  Papers,  Msc,  No.  2,  1903). 

-  Parly.  Papers,  No.  2,  1894,  p.  53. 

*  ib.,  p.  146.  By  appeal  to  the  king's  prerogative  divorce  may  be 
obtained  for  irreconcilable  aversion  as  well  as  for  other  causes  {Divorce 
Commission  Rept.,  p.  24). 

*  Report  of  Commission  on  Divorce,  col.  6478,  p.  23. 

*  ib.  The  main  grounds  of  unilateral  action  are  adultery,  conviction 
of  certain  crimes,  ill-treatment,  desertion,  incurable  lunacy,  inveterate 
gambling  habits  and  incurable  contagious  disease. 


228  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

Protestant  countries  conviction  of  crime  and  the  distinct  refusal 
of  one  party  to  perform  his  or  her  duty  is  more  prominent. 
There  is,  moreover,  a  partial  tendency  to  divorce  by  mutual 
consent  which  appears  most  noticeably  in  the  most  recent  laws. 

14.  In  the  United  Kingdom  the  history  of  the  Divorce  Law  is 
altogether  peculiar.  The  Scottish  courts  began  to  grant  divorces 
soon  after  the  Reformation,  and  in  1573  recognized  desertion, 
as  well  as  adultery,  as  a  cause;  this  remains  the  Scottish  law 
to  the  present  day.  But  in  England  the  course  of  events  was 
different.  The  Commission  appointed  by  Henry  VIII.  and 
Edward  VI.  recommended  divorce  for  adultery,  desertion  and 
cruelty,  and  Lord  Northampton  {temp.  Edward  VI.),  who  married 
again  after  a  separation  a  mensa  et  thoro,  was  held  justified,  but 
the  recommendations  of  the  Commission  never  became  law,  and 
in  Foljambe's  case  at  the  end  of  Elizabeth's  reign  marriage  was 
held  indissoluble.  In  1669  the  first  divorce  was  granted  by 
private  Act  of  Parliament,  but  there  were  only  five  such  Acts 
before  George  I.'s  time,  and  it  was  not  till  1857  that  divorce 
was  allowed  by  Enghsh  law,  and  this  law  differs  from  that 
of  the  majority  of  continental  countries  in  not  recognising  the 
practical  destruction  of  the  marriage  life  through  desertion, 
crime  or  drunkenness  as  a  ground  for  anything  more  than 
separation.  Neither  does  it  place  husband  and  wife  on  an 
equal  footing.  Down  to  1884  the  courts  could  enforce  an 
order  for  the  restitution  of  conjugal  rights  by  imprisonment, 
but  in  1884  this  power  was  withdrawn,  and  in  the  Jackson  case, 
a  few  years  later,  it  was  apparently  held  that  though  such  an 
order  could  be  obtained  by  a  husband  or  wife,  it  could  neither 
be  enforced  by  the  courts  nor  could  the  injured  party  be  allowed 
to  enforce  it  for  himself.  Thus  the  tendency  of  recent  English 
legislation  has  been  to  facilitate  separation,  but  not  to  enable 
him  or  her  who  has  made  the  mistake  of  marrying  a  confirmed 
criminal,  a  lunatic  or  an  habitual  drunkard  to  marry  again. 

The  British  Colonies,  and  with  them,  of  course,  the  United 
States,  started  with  the  English  law,  but  have  for  the  most  part 
modified  it  in  the  direction  of  greater  liberty.  Canada  forms 
the  exception.  In  the  Dominion,  under  the  influence  of  the 
Roman  religion,  no  divorce  courts  have  been  instituted,  and 
none  exist  except  in  Nova  Scotia,  New  Brunsv/ick,  Prince 
Edward's  Island  and  British  Columbia,  where  they  had  been 
instituted  before  the  Union,  and  where  the  conditions  of  divorce 
are  the  same,  or  nearly  the  same,  as  under  English  law.^ 
*  Parly.  Pa/per  a,  1894,  vol.  Ixx.  part  iii.  p.  54  ff. 


WOMAN  AND  MARRIAGE  UNDER  CIVILIZATION    229 

In  South  Africa  the  Roman  Dutch  law  in  C?vpe  Colony  recog- 
nizes adultery  and  graver  sexual  offences,  malicious  desertion, 
perpetual  imprisonment,  long  absences  and  refusal  of  marital 
privileges  as  grounds  of  divorce,  but  in  practice  it  appears 
that  only  the  first  two  causes  are  brought  forward.  Natal 
also  recognizes  desertion  in  addition  to  adultery.^  In  the 
Australasian  group  divorce  is  either  on  the  Enghsh  lines  or 
modified  so  as  to  admit  desertion,  drunkenness  and  crime  as 
grounds. 2 

15.  The  divorce  laws  of  the  United  States  form  a  study  by 
themselves,  and  the  utmost  that  I  can  attempt  is  a  summary 
of  the  principal  features.  In  one  state  or  another  twelve 
different  causes  of  divorce  are  recognized;   they  are — 

(1)  Adultery.  This  is  recognized  generally  as  a  ground  of 
divorce. 

(2)  Bigamy.     General. 

(3)  Impotence.  General,  but  as  a  rule  with  the  require- 
ment that  the  plaintiff  must  be  ignorant  of  the  fact  at  the  time 
of  marriage. 

(4)  Idiocy.     Most  states. 

(5)  Wilful  desertion.  The  term  varying  from  six  months  to 
five  years.  This  is  usually  a  ground  of  absolute  divorce,  but 
sometimes  of  separation  only,  and  as  a  rule  the  deserted  part}^ 
must  not  have  consented  to  it  or  have  rejected  reconciliation. 

1  Parhj.  Papers,  cd.  1785  (1903),  p.  21. 

^  South  Australia,  Queensland  and  Tasmania  adhere  to  English  law 
[Parly.  Papers,  1894,  vol.  Ixx.  pp.  15,  16,  33,  95).  New  South  Wales 
places  husband  and  wife  on  an  equal  footing  in  the  matter  of  adultery 
provided  the  husband  is  domiciled  in  the  colony  {Parly.  Papers,  1903, 
cd.  1785,  p.  13).  It  also  recognizes  desertion,  cruelty,  conviction  for 
crime,  and  habitual  drunkenness ;  while,  further,  it  is  a  ground  of  divorce 
if  the  wife  has  "  habitually  neglected  or  rendered  herself  unfit  to  discharge 
her  domestic  duties  ;  or  if  the  husband  has  habitually  left  the  wife  without 
the  means  of  support "  {ih.,  p.  14).  Victoria  recognizes  desertion,  im- 
prisonment and  habitual  drunkenness.  Tliis  must  be  coupled,  in  the 
case  of  the  husband,  either  with  cruelty  or  with  the  charge  that  he  has 
"  habitually  left  his  wife  without  means  of  support  " ;  on  the  part  of  the 
wife,  "  with  neglect  of  her  domestic  duties."  Adultery  by  the  husband 
in  the  law  of  this  colony  is  only  a  sufficient  ground  of  divorce  if  committed 
in  the  conjugal  residence,  or  coupled  with  circvimstances  or  conduct  of 
aggravation  {Parly.  Papers,  1894,  vol.  Ixx.  part  i.  p.  19).  New  Zealand, 
which,  till  1898,  adhered  closely  to  the  English  law,  now  recognizes  im- 
prisonment for  serious  crime,  desertion  and  habitual  drunkenness,  coupled 
with  cruelty  on  the  part  of  the  husband,  or  habitual  neglect  of  domestic 
duties  on  the  part  of  the  wife  {Parly.  Papers,  1903,  cd.  1785,  p.  16). 
Since  1908  lunacy  under  certain  conditions  is  also  a  clause  {Div.  Rept., 
p.  20).  West  Australia  since  1912  recognizes  very  similar  conditions 
{ib.,  p.  21). 


230  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

(6)  Absence.     New  Hampshire  and  Connecticut. 

(7)  Neglect  of  husband  to  support  wife.  Twenty  states, 
but  in  some  of  these  it  is  a  ground  of  separation  only. 

(8)  Habitual  drunkenness  for  a  term  of  years.  Almost  all 
states. 

(9)  Use  of  opium.     Two  states. 

(10)  Conviction  of  felony.     The  greater  part  of  the  country. 

(11)  Extreme  cruelty.  Almost  all  states,  but  in  some  only 
as  a  ground  of  separation. 

(12)  Indignities  to  the  person.     Eight  states. 

To  these  may  be  added  a  variety  of  causes,  recognized  in  one 
state  or  more.  In  Illinois  divorce  may  be  given  at  the  general 
discretion  of  the  court  .^  In  Washington  ^  divorce  may  be  given 
for  any  cause  deemed  by  the  court  sufficient,  and  when  it  shall 
be  satisfied  that  the  parties  can  no  longer  live  together.  In 
South  Carolina  there  is  no  divorce  at  all.^ 

^  The  summary  given  in  the  text  is  derived  from  Parhj.  Papers,  1894, 
Misc.,  No.  2.  The  statements  given  by  W.  F.  Wilcox  (Ency.  Brit.,  ed.  10, 
article  "  Divorce  ")  may  be  simimarized  as  follows  :  In  six  out  of  seven 
states  divorce  is  allowed  for  adultery,  desertion,  and  cruelty ;  in  thirty- 
nine  states  for  imprisonment,  in  thirty-eight  for  habitual  drunkenness, 
in  twenty-two  for  neglect  to  provide.  In  all  states  but  two,  complete 
separation  lasting  from  one  to  five  years  is  a  ground  of  divorce  (ih.,  art. 
"  Marriage,"  p.  649).  From  the  svunmary  statement  in  the  Report  of  the 
Divorce  Commission  (p.  27)  there  appears  to  have  been  no  essential 
change. 

*  Bryce,  Studies  in  Jurisprudence,  ii.  440. 

^  The  charge  brought  by  critics  of  the  United  States  marriage  laws, 
however,  is  not  so  much  directed  against  loose  rules  of  law,  as  against  lax 
interpretation  by  courts.  This  is  carried  so  far  in  some  states,  that  it 
would  seem  as  though  divorce  were  placed  at  the  free  disposal  of  either 
party.  One  wife  alleges  that  her  husband  "  has  never  offered  to  take  her 
out  riding  " ;  another,  that  he  quoted  verses  from  the  New  Testament 
about  wives  obeying  their  husbands ;  a  third,  "  that  he  does  not  come 
home  till  ten  o'clock  at  night,  and  when  he  does  come  home  he  keeps 
plaintiff  awake  talking."  These  cases,  with  further  details  which  have 
their  ludicrous  side,  are  quoted  by  Lord  Bryce  (op.  cit.,  vol.  ii.  p.  445)  from 
a  report  of  the  United  States  Labour  Biu-eau  of  1880.  The  number  of 
divorces  granted  in  the  Union  increased  from  9,937  in  1867,  to  25,535  in 
1886,  a  proportion  of  250  to  100,000  married  couples.  In  some  of  the 
laxer  states,  however,  the  proportion  is  much  higher,  there  being  in  Ohio, 
for  instance,  some  3,000  divorces  annually  to  from  33,000  to  44,000  marriages. 
In  two-thirds  of  the  suits  the  wife  is  the  plaintiff,  but  statistics  combat 
the  suggestion  that  desire  for  another  marriage  is  the  common  cause  of 
divorce.  Thus,  in  Connecticut,  where  the  figures  are  best  available,  only 
one-third  of  those  divorced  re-marry  in  each  year.  A  further  point  of 
high  importance  is  that  the  number  of  divorces  in  proportion  to  the  popula- 
tion  does  not  vary  with  the  number  of  causes  for  which  divorce  can  be 
obtained — e.g.  in  1880,  New  York  admitted  adultery  only  as  a  cause; 
New  Jersey  added  desertion,  and  Pennsylvania  further  added  cruelty  and 
imprisonment.  Yet  New  York  had  78  divorces  per  100,000  couples;  New 
Jersey  26,  and  Pennsylvania  16  (Howard,  iii.  217). 


WOMAN  AND  MARRIAGE  UNDER  CIVILIZATION    231 

16.  Comparing  the  divorce  laws  of  modern  states  as  a  whole, 
the  general  tendency,  notwithstanding  the  bewildering  differences 
in  detail,  is  tolerably  clear.  Legislation  moves  in  the  direction 
of  allowing  divorce  for  adultery,  cruelty,  persistent  desertion, 
habitual  drunkenness,  serious  crime — in  short,  for  such  behaviour 
of  one  party  as  makes  the  married  life  impossible  or  unbearable 
to  the  other.  So  far  the  dissolution  of  marriage  is  regarded  as 
a  relief  which  one  party  may  claim  on  the  ground  of  the  other 
party's  delinquency,  and  in  a  measure  as  the  punishment  of  that 
delinquency.  But  there  is  also  a  more  radical  movement,  not 
so  marked  but  apparently  growing,  to  regard  marriage  con- 
sistently as  a  contract  voidable,  like  other  contracts,  by  the 
agreement  of  the  parties  to  it,  and  to  restrict  the  function  of 
the  state  to  the  duty  of  seeing  that  no  fraud  is  committed,  and 
that  the  involuntary  parties  to  the  original  contract,  the  children, 
do  not  suffer. 

In  any  case,  marriage,  in  modern  legislation,  is  more  a  con- 
tract than  a  sacrament.  It  is  a  relation  which  binds  two  parties 
together  without  annulling  the  legal  personality  of  either,  and 
is  terminable  by  the  fault  of  either.  In  ethics,  the  change  that 
it  has  undergone  may  be  expressed  by  saying  that  from  being 
a  sacrament  in  the  magical,  it  has  become  one  in  the  ethical, 
sense.  Regarded  as  a  magical  sacrament,  marriage  is  a  rite 
which  removes  the  taboo  on  sexual  intercourse  between  a  man 
and  a  woman,  while  at  the  same  time  imposing  a  lifelong  taboo 
on  the  intercourse  of  either  of  them  with  a  third  person.  As 
an  ethical  sacrament,  marriage  is  the  fruition  of  perfect  love, 
in  which,  at  its  best,  men  and  women  pass  beyond  themselves 
and  become  aware  through  feeling  and  direct  intuition  of  a 
higher  order  of  reality  in  which  self  and  sense  disappear.  If 
it  is  not  given  to  all  to  obtain  this  best,  yet  the  humbler  lessons 
of  unselfishness  and  mutual  aid  are  learnt  by  ordinary  men  and 
women  in  greater  or  less  degree  from  marriage,  and  seldom 
effectually  learnt  from  other  sources.  But  this  ethical  concep- 
tion implies  the  retention  of  full  personal  rights  by  the  wife, 
and  though  doubtless  realized  often  enough  under  the  older 
quasi-servile  marriage,  that  was  because  the  facts  of  human 
nature  and  the  relations  based  upon  them  cut  deeper  than  all 
law,  and  wives  have  been  men's  helpmates  and  sometimes  their 
tyrants  even  when  law  made  them  most  abjectly  their  slaves. 
The  modem  view  of  marriage  recognizes  a  relation  that  love 
has  known  from  the  outset.  But  this  is  a  relation  only  possible 
between  free  self-governing  persons.  If  it  be  true  that  "  woman 
is  not  undeveloped  man,  but  diverse,"  that  diversity  will  bets 


232  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

express  itself  through  her  freedom  to  act  as  a  responsible  agent, 
and  only  when  so  expressed  can  we  justly  measure  its  character 
and  amount.  Such  freedom  is  the  basis  of  marriage  as  an 
ethical  sacrament,  and  that  conception  of  marriage  is  accordingly 
bound  up  with  the  general  liberation  of  women. 

In  the  lowest  stages  of  society  the  life  of  women  is  less  differ- 
entiated from  that  of  men  than  it  afterwards  becomes,  but  there 
is  a  tendency  for  the  heavier  drudgery  to  fall  on  them,  while  the 
men  do  the  hunting  or  fighting.  At  a  higher  stage  the  sphere 
of  woman  becomes  more  clearly  restricted  to  the  house.  She 
does  hard  outside  work  only  when  compelled  thereto  by  poverty, 
and  the  idea  grows  that  she  should  be  protected  by  her  men-folk 
and  as  far  as  possible  sheltered  from  the  world.  She  becomes  a 
different  being,  romantically  conceived  as  of  finer,  more  ethereal, 
texture  than  the  male,  but  is  practically  allowed  no  will  or 
character  of  her  own.  At  a  still  further  stage  the  ethical  con- 
ception of  personality  comes  into  play.  To  be  the  ideal  being 
that  man  would  have  her  it  is  recognized  that  woman  must  be 
a  responsible  agent,  and  it  is  seen  that  her  special  talents  and 
qualities  must  have  all  the  scope  which  freedom  gives  to  come 
to  the  fulness  of  their  development,  while  it  is  only  through  free 
development  that  the  extent  of  her  differentiation  can  be  deter- 
mined. Roughly  parallel  to  this  movement  of  thought  is  the 
evolution  of  the  marriage  tie  as  we  have  traced  it — the  natural 
family  at  first  incomplete  and  the  marital  relation  loose  and 
uncertain ;  next,  a  close  union  under  the  lordship  of  the  husband, 
based  in  its  lower  forms  on  proprietary  right,  and  at  a  higher 
stage  on  religious  sanctions;  and,  finally,  a  union,  not  less  inti- 
mate because  less  mechanical,  between  two  free  and  responsible 
persons,  in  which  the  equal  rights  of  both  are  maintained,  based 
not  on  a  magical  sacrament,  but  on  the  most  sacred  hiiman 
relation. 


CHAPTER  VI 

RELATIONS    BETWEEN    COMMUNITIES 

1.  In  the  early  stages  of  ethics,  rights  and  duties  do  not  attach 
to  a  human  being  as  such.  They  attach  to  him  as  a  member  of  a 
group.  A  stranger  may  enter  a  community  with  a  safe  conduct, 
or  under  the  protection  of  some  god  or  some  taboo.  He  may 
come  as  a  guest  under  the  aegis  of  his  host.  But  except  under 
such  special  conditions  he  is  destitute  of  rights.  The  members 
of  the  community  will  give  him  no  protection  because  he  is  not 
one  of  themselves.  They  stand  by  one  another,  but,  except  for 
such  special  reasons  as  have  been  mentioned  have  no  concern 
with  outsiders.  Morality  is  in  its  origin  group-morality.  This 
division  between  the  community  and  the  stranger  cuts  deep 
into  the  ethical  consciousness.  In  primitive  society  it  implies  a 
very  narrow  circumscription  of  the  ethical  area,  since  primitive 
societies,  besides  being  exclusive,  are  generally  small.  But,  far 
from  being  confined  to  primitive  society,  the  essential  features  of 
group-morality  are  maintained  with  great  persistence,  though  in 
very  varying  shapes,  into  the  higher  civilizations.  Civilized 
humanity  is  still  organized  in  groups,  and  there  is  still  a  deep 
distinction  between  the  obligations  binding  members  of  the  same 
group  to  one  another  and  those  which  are  recognized  as  holding 
as  between  members  of  different  groups.  Every  independent 
nation  is  such  a  group.  In  greater  or  less  degree  every  distinct 
class  within  a  nation  is  such  a  group.  Religious  bodies,  poUtical 
parties,  all  sorts  of  voluntary  associations  and,  finally,  the  family 
itself,  are  other  instances. 

But  here  one  distinction  is  to  be  noted.  All  these  groupings 
may  be  the  basis  of  special  obligations,  but  it  does  not  follow 
that  they  all  alike  maintain  group -morality  in  its  distinctive 
features.  For  these  distinctive  features  consist  not  so  much  in 
the  recognition  of  special  obligations  as  in  the  denial  of  more 
general  rights  and  duties  arising  out  of  more  general  relations. 
The  special  and  the  general  need  not  necessarily  conflict.  The 
one  may  supplement  the  other.  It  is  where  a  wider  obligation 
is  ignored  or  overridden  in  favour  of  the  narrower  that  we  speak 

233 


234  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

of  group-morality.^  A  great  part  of  the  comparative  study  of 
ethics  consists  in  tracing  the  forms  assumed  by  group-morality 
and  its  modification  by  wider  ideas  of  obligation,  and  much  of 
ethical  evolution  is  constituted  by  the  interaction  of  the  two 
principles.  In  the  present  chapter  and  the  next  we  shall  con- 
sider the  two  departments  in  which  this  evolution  appears  to 
be  of  the  greatest  importance.  We  shall  begin  with  the  mutual 
relations  of  independently  governed  communities  and  their 
respective  members. 

2.  Early  society  is,  as  has  been  said,  organized  generally  in 
small  groups,  and  between  these  groups  and  their  respective 
members  there  is  not,  except  under  special  conditions,  any  bond 
of  mutual  regard.  Hence,  man  being  a  pugnacious  creature,  it 
is  natural  that  disputes  should  arise  and  that  they  should  be 
settled  by  recourse  to  arms.  To  represent  primitive  man  as  in 
a  state  of  perpetual  warfare  with  his  fellows  is,  indeed,  a  gross 
exaggeration.  Normally  border  relations  are  friendly,  and  there 
are  some  peoples,  particularly  in  the  lowest  economic  grades,  who 
seem  naturally  mild,  unaggressive  and  peaceable,  and  to  whom 
war  is  unknown.  Such  were  some  of  the  Eskimo.^  Such  are 
one  or  two  small,  favoured  and  isolated  South  Sea  Island  peoples.^ 
Such  are  some  of  the  Asiatic  jungle  peoples.*  But  these,  after 
all,  are  rare  exceptions,^  and  among  the  great  majority  of  peoples 
disputes  arise  which  from  time  to  time  give  occasion  for  the  resort 
to  arms. 

The  actual  frequency  and  seriousness  of  warfare,  of  course, 
vary  very  greatly,  according  to  the  more  or  less  martial  character 

1  The  term  is,  of  course,  one  of  disparagement,  so  far  as  we  assume  the 
correctness  of  the  modern  point  of  view.  It  may,  however,  be,  and  at 
times  has  been,  that  the  more  humanitarian  view  is  too  crudely  expressed, 
and  the  group-morahty  which  protests  against  it  may  then  prove  to  be 
relatively  right. 

*  For  example,  the  people  of  Baffin's  Land  had  no  warfare,  and  Ross 
could  not  make  them  understand  the  meaning  of  battles  (Reclus,  108). 

'  The  Lower  Carolinas  are  said  by  Waitz  to  live  at  peace,  while  furnish- 
ing the  upper  islands  with  arms.  In  the  small  islands  of  the  Tokilan  and 
Ellice  group  no  weapons  are  known  except  those  washed  ashore,  which  are 
stored  in  the  temples  (Waitz,  v.  ii.  190). 

*  The  little  Kubu  family  groups  do  not  fight  among  themselves  and 
never  come  into  contact  with  others.  If  menaced,  they  run  away  (Hagen, 
p.  70).  The  Punans  rarely  have  fights  either  within  or  between  groups, 
the  only  exceptions  known  to  our  authorities  being  cases  where  they  have 
been  egged  on  by  other  tribes  (Hose  and  McDougall,  ii.  183). 

'  Among  tribes  of  whose  "  foreign  "  relations  we  obtained  information 
we  fovmd  twelve  which  could  be  said  to  have  "no  war,"  ten  in  the  hunting 
or  lowest  agricultural  stage,  one  in  the  higher  pastoral  where  war  was 
said  to  be  rare,  and  one  in  the  highest  agricultural,  where  it  was  mild 
(Simpler  Peoples,  p.  232). 


RELATIONS  BETWEEN  COMMUNITIES  235 

of  the  people,  their  geographical  conditions  and  economic  cir- 
cumstances. Regular  organized  war  implies  a  certain  social 
development,  and  is  hardly  to  be  found  at  the  lowest  grades,  but 
we  find  "  a  sort  of  "  warfare  in  the  form,  perhaps,  of  perpetual 
predatory  raids,  as  where  an  outcast  tribe  like  the  Bushmen 
live  largely  by  pillaging  its  more  settled  neighbours,  who  reply 
whenever  they  can  with  pitiless  massacres.^  We  find  fighting 
arising  from  disputes  about  the  infringement  of  the  tribal 
border — the  "  frontier  incidents  "  of  savagery — as  often  among 
the  Australian  clans. ^  It  may  arise  out  of  personal  injuries,  the 
capture  of  a  woman  or  the  slaying  of  a  man,  which  the  injured 
tribe  is  determined  to  resent.  In  this  latter  case  there  is  no 
very  deep  distinction  between  a  war  of  distinct  tribes  and  the 
blood  feud  of  two  clans  within  a  tribe. ^  In  both  cases  the 
fighting  may  be  of  the  nature  of  a  trial  by  combat,  and  so  it  is, 
perhaps,  that  we  find  here  and  there  a  regular  arrangement  of 
the  campaign  in  which  time,  place,  and  even  the  number  of  the 
combatants  and  their  weapons  are  predetermined.  Thus,  in  the 
Malay  region,  clan  disputes  are  sometimes  settled  by  duels,  or 
by  battles  arranged  at  fixed  times  and  places.  Among  the 
Battas  of  Sumatra  the  relatives  of  the  combatants  mingle  freely 
while  the  war  is  in  progress.  Yet  the  actual  fighting  is  waged 
to  the  extermination  of  the  beaten  party,  saving  always  its 
chief.*  The  tale  of  the  Horatii  and  Curiatii  preserves  the  memory 
of  a  custom  of  "  representative  fighting "  among  the  early 
Latin  tribes,  and  instances  occur  in  Greek  history  down  to 
the  sixth  century,^     We  may,  perhaps,  connect  with  this  range 

^  Letourneau,  La  Ouerre,pp.  66,  57,  quoting  MoHat,  Twenty-threeY ears 
in  Central  Africa. 

*  Letourneau,  ib.,  p.  29.  Border  relations,  however,  according  to 
Messrs.  Spencer  and  Gillen  (Native  Tribes  of  Central  Axistralia,  p.  32), 
are  generally  amicable,  and  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  constant  state  of 
enmity. 

'  Technically,  the  term  feud  should  be  used  of  a  fight  within  what 
is,  for  many  purposes  if  not  for  all,  one  community,  or  of  a  fight  waged  by 
a  part  of  a  community — e.  g.  a  kindred  avenging  a  murder.  War  should  be 
used  of  a  fight  organized  by  a  community  as  a  whole.  But  the  distinction 
is  difficult  to  carry  through,  as  the  normal  organization  of  a  fight  with 
a  hostile  tribe  may  be  by  a  volunteer  party  under  a  chief  chosen  ad  hoc. 
This  is  common,  e.  g.  ainong  the  North  American  Indians. 

*  Waitz,  V.  i.  161,  162.  In  some  peoples,  thovigh  there  may  bo  no 
precise  arrangements  as  for  a  judicial  combat,  a  very  little  bloodshed 
seems  to  appease  the  martial  ardour  of  the  combatants.  Thus,  among  the 
Micronesians,  it  is  said,  wars  break  out  on  small  pretexts,  but  on  the  death 
of  two  or  three  warriors  the  rest  run  away,  and  offer  gifts  which  terminate 
the  war.  Yet  prisoners  are  often  tortured  and  the  land  laid  waste  (Waitz, 
V.  ii.  132). 

*  Herodotus,  Book  I.  chap.  Ixxxii. 


236  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

of  ideas  certain  indications  of  what  we  might  call  a  sportsman- 
like view  of  war.  Instances  might  be  found  among  the  North 
American  Indians — for  example,  in  the  story  of  the  Arkansas 
giving  a  share  of  their  powder  to  the  Chickasaw  to  fight  with 
them,  or  of  the  Algonquin  refraining  from  pressing  an  attack  on 
the  Iroquois  on  its  being  pointed  out  that  night  had  fallen.^ 

Apart  from  this  half-judicial,  half -chivalrous  view,  the  warfare 
of  savage  and  primitive  societies  is  not  always  without  its  rules 
and  limitations.  Often  an  open  and  honourable  declaration  of 
war  is  insisted  on,  as  among  the  Kaffirs, ^  and  in  early  Rome.^ 
The  persons  of  envoys  are,  as  a  rule,  respected,  and  often  women 
are  employed  for  this  purpose.  Agreements  are  understood  and 
bad  faith  is  condemned.^  We  even  hear  of  instances  in  which 
the  use  of  poisoned  weapons  is  avoided,^  and  in  which  permanent 
injury  to  property  is  forbidden.^ 

^  Waitz,  iii.  154.  For  a  similar  case  among  the  Australians,  see 
Letoumeau,  op.  cit.,  p.  33. 

*  Waitz,  ii.  398. 

^  Cicero,  De  Republica,  ii.  17,  quoted  in  Bruns,  p.  11. 

*  e.  g.  the  N.  A.  Indians  had  tlieir  regular  flags  of  truce,  peace  councils, 
and  pipes  of  peace  (Catlin,  N.  A.  Indian/!,  ii.  242).  In  early  Rome 
those  who  offended  against  a  foreign  nation  by  an  attack  on  envoys,  were 
made  over  to  them  (deditio)  to  deal  with  as  they  pleased.  By  an  intricate 
perversion  of  moral  sentiment,  the  people  might  refuse  to  ratify  a  truce 
made  by  a  general  in  the  field  on  its  behalf,  but  in  that  case  surrendered 
the  general,  as  though  it  were  he  who  had  broken  his  word  to  the  injured 
enemy.  By  this  vicarious  sacrifice  the  commonwealth  was  to  be  reheved 
from  all  guilt  (ut  populus  religidne  solvatur),  the  injury  being  put  on  to 
the  head  of  the  general  who  had  done  his  best  for  it  (quandoque  noxam 
nocuerunt  .  .  .  ob  eam  rem  hosce  homines  vobis  dedo,  Livy,  ix.  10; 
Ihering,  Geist  des  Romischen  Rechts,  i.  131).  In  all  this,  however  distorted, 
a  feeling  of  the  obligation  of  good  faith  between  nations  is  indubitably 
present. 

'  e.g.  among  the  Kaffirs  (Waitz,  ii.  398,  399).  According  to  this  au- 
thority, the  Kaffirs  also  avoided  the  starving  out  of  an  enemy,  and,  generally 
speaking,  showed  a  certain  chivalry  in  war  which  they  have  unlearnt 
in  contact  with  the  whites. 

*  Among  the  Eastern  Carolinas,  the  victor  carries  off  the  movables,  but 
does  not  take  the  land  of  the  vanquished,  and  avoids  cutting  down  their 
fruit-trees  (Waitz,  v.  ii.  118,  119).  Even  the  Book  of  Deuteronomy, 
which  lays  down  a  kind  of  ideal  code  of  extermination,  based  on  religious 
principles,  deprecates  the  cutting  down  of  fruit-trees,  but  rather  for  the 
advantage  of  the  invader  than  for  any  more  magnanimous  motive  :  "  For 
thou  mayest  eat  of  them,  and  thou  shalt  not  cut  them  down  :  for  is  the 
tree  of  the  field  man,  that  it  should  be  besieged  of  thee  ?  "  (Deut.  xx.  19). 
Quaint  illustrations  of  savage  chivalry  occur  where  some  primitive  con- 
ception, colliding  with  the  ordinary  instincts  of  warfare,  places  enemies 
under  a  sacred  obligation  to  each  other.  Instances  may  be  foiuid  among 
some  of  the  Indian  hill  tribes,  for  whom  hospitality  is  so  sacred  a  duty 
that  a  defeated  enemy  can  avail  himself  of  it  against  his  conqueror.  M. 
Reclus  (p.  261)  mentions  the  case  of  a  Bengalese  clan  being  driven  out  of 
their  homes  by  an  enemy,  and  coming  to  claim  asylum  as  guests  with  their 
conquerors,  to  whom  they  proved  so  expensive  as  lodgers,  that  it  became 


RELATIONS   BETWEEN  COMMUNITIES  237 

3.  But  while  war,  like  other  departments  of  savage  life,  has  its 
customs  and  obligations,  and  while  in  some  of  them  we  can  trace 
germs  of  moral  feeling,  of  honour  and  fair  play,  we  must  not 
blind  ourselves  to  the  broad  fact  that  this  same  rule  of  custom 
generally  lends  to  savage  warfare  something  of  the  character 
of  a  personal  feud.  We  shall  not  be  far  wrong  in  saying  of 
uncivilized  warfare  in  general  terms  that  it  is  in  its  essence  as 
much  a  struggle  between  individuals  as  between  communities, 
that  the  conquered  enemy  has  no  recognized  rights  of  immunity 
to  protect  him,  but  that  his  person  and  property,  his  wives  and 
children,  stand  at  the  mercy  of  the  conqueror.  As  in  other 
departments  of  ethics,  so  here,  we  find  that  this  principle  is  not 
always  pushed  to  an  extreme.  There  are  all  manner  of  variations 
in  the  rigour  with  which  it  is  applied,  and  still  more  in  the 
practical  consequences  drawn  from  it.  Here  and  there  we  find 
touches  of  humaner  feeling  investing  themselves  with  a  religious 
sanction.  In  other  cases  social  circumstances  mitigate  the  lot 
of  captives.  But  in  the  main  the  defeated  enemy  is  rightless, 
and  is  treated  as  best  suits  the  victor's  convenience. 

This  will  readily  appear  from  a  brief  survey  of  the  possible 
alternatives  in  the  treatment  of  prisoners.  Quarter  may  be 
refused  altogether,  or  if  the  prisoner  is  taken  he  may  be  enslaved, 
tortured,  eaten,  adopted,  ransomed,  exchanged,  or  liberated. 
Further,  a  distinction  may  be,  and  in  practice  often  is,  drawn 
between  the  adult  males  among  the  enemy  on  the  one  hand,  and 
the  women  and  children  on  the  other,  e.  g.  the  males  may  be  put 
to  the  sword,  while  the  women  and  children  are  enslaved  or, 
perhaps,  adopted.  Coming  now  to  the  actual  practice  of  savage 
and  barbarous  races,  we  find  that,  at  least  so  far  as  regards  males, 
the  milder  alternatives  are  by  far  the  rarer.  Of  exchange  there 
are  several  instances  among  the  North  American  Indians — 
for  example,  in  the  tribes  of  New  California,  where,  though 
enemies  are  killed  in  battle,  they  are  not  scalped,  and  prisoners 
are  not  enslaved,  but  exchanged.^     Ransom  is  also  very  seldom 


more  profitable  to  restore  the  lands  and  goods  taken  from  them.  The 
same  author  mentions  the  case  of  a  murderer  playing  the  same  trick  upon 
the  father  of  the  murdered  man,  who  not  only  could  not  touch  him  as  long 
as  he  was  his  guest,  but  was  compelled  to  support  him — a  situation  which 
could  only  be  paralleled  by  that  of  the  N.  A.  Indian  widow,  who  might  be 
appeased  for  the  murder  of  her  husband  by  the  adoption  of  the  murderer 
in  his  place. 

^  Waitz,  iv.  241.  But  they  would  seem  to  take  women  captives,  as  one 
of  their  war-songs  begins  :  "  Let  us  go,  leader,  to  the  war,  let  us  go  and 
make  booty  of  a  fine  maiden."  Catlin  (ii.  71)  relates  that  the  Comanches 
kept  a  little  white  boy  as  a  prisoner,  and  finally  exchanged  him  for  three 
members  of  their  own  tribe  bought  by  the  whites  from  the  Osages. 


23S  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

understood  by  savages,  but  the  Creek  Indians  were  said  to 
adopt  boy  and  girl  prisoners  and  to  hold  grown  men  and  women 
for  ransom,  though  apparently  they  were  also  subject  to  an 
ordeal,  as  it  is  stated  by  the  same  authority  (an  eighteenth- 
century  writer  who  lived  among  them)  that  the  women  of  the  tribe 
were  wont  to  make  payment  in  tobacco  for  the  privilege  of  whip- 
ping prisoners  as  they  passed.^  The  third  alternative  was  that 
of  adoption,  which,  especially  among  the  North  American  Indians, 
forms  the  main  exception  to  the  rule  that  the  prisoner  is  only 
saved  in  order  to  become  a  slave.  For  several  tribes  saw  another 
use,  based  upon  another  phase  of  savage  ideas,  to  which  he 
could  be  put.  He  might  impersonate  a  deceased  warrior  of  the 
tribe.  It  is  a  part  of  savage  make-believe  that  one  man  can 
stand  for  another,  that  a  man's  personality  can  be  transferred, 
possibly  by  the  supposed  transfusion  of  the  soul,  possibly  by  a 
ceremonial  investiture  with  the  names,  rights  and  possessions  of 
the  deceased.  It  was  a  fairly  common  practice  among  the  Red 
Indians  to  spare  prisoners  for  this  purpose.  They  had,  in  the 
first  instance,  to  undergo  an  ordeal,  a  severe  whipping  or  other 
torture,  and  then,  if  a  widowed  woman  of  the  tribe  chose  to 
adopt  one  as  her  husband,  he  might  live  and  become  a  member 
of  the  tribe,  replacing  the  dead  man  in  every  respect,  as  husband 
to  his  widow,  as  father  to  his  children,  as  bearer  of  his  totem,  as 
successor  to  all  his  rights  and  duties — in  short,  as  perpetuating 
his  personality.- 

Among  two  hundred  and  fourteen  peoples  we  find  evidence  of  the  in- 
discriminate killing  of  the  conquered  in  one  hiuidred  and  five  cases,  and 
of  the  killing  of  men  only  in  forty-one  more.  It  is  fair,  however,  to  say 
that  in  the  first  number  we  include  cases  of  head-hunting,  which  do  not 
necessarily  imply  that  the  injured  are  slain  in  any  large  numbers,  or  even 
that  quarter  would  be  normally  refused.  We  find  sixty  cases  in  which 
both  sexes  may  be  enslaved,  thirty-two  in  which  women  and  children  are 
enslaved,  thirty-nine  cases  of  adoption,  and  eighteen  in  which  prisoners  are 
exchanged  or  set  free.  In  many  cases,  of  course,  more  than  one  practice 
is  followed  by  the  same  tribe  [Simpler  Peoples,  p.  232). 

1  Caleb  Swan,  in  Schoolcraft,  v.  280. 

*  Catlin  gives  it  as  the  general  practice  of  the  Indians  known  to  him 
that  they  inflict  appalling  tortures  on  their  prisoners,  in  sufiicient  numbers 
to  atone  for  those  similarly  dealt  with  by  their  enemies,  while  the  re- 
mainder were  adopted  as  husbands  by  widows  in  the  tribe  (op.  cit.,  ii. 
240).  The  element  of  fiction  comes  out  strongly  when  we  learn  that  a  boy 
may  be  adopted  in  place  of  a  deceased  husband,  and  is  then  called  father 
by  the  children  of  the  deceased  (Schoolcraft- Drake,  i.  218-220).  Among 
the  Dakotas  male  prisoners  were  seldom  taken,  except  by  previous  arrange- 
ment, which  would  be  made  when  the  warriors  of  the  tribe  wished  to  take 
one  or  more  for  adoption  to  recruit  their  number.  The  fate  of  the  warrior 
would  in  this  case  depend  upon  the  decision  of  the  war-chief  (School- 
craft-Drake,  i.  188).  Among  the  Iroquois,  prisoners  had  to  run  the 
gauntlet  all  through  the  villages  lying  near  the  line  of  march.     At  the 


RELATIONS   BETWEEN  COMMUNITIES  239 

To  pass  to  the  more  severe  alternatives,  the  refusal  of  quarter 
in  battle  is  widespread.  In  North  America  we  find  it  in  place 
of  either  torture  or  adoption  among  the  Apaches/  the  Chepe- 
wyans,^  and  generally  among  the  Californian  tribes.^  In  negro 
warfare  the  defeated  are  often  annihilated.  The  men  are  killed 
sometimes  for  eating,  sometimes  merely  for  the  killing;  the 
women  and  children  are  sometimes  killed,  sometimes  enslaved. 
The  Waganda  and  the  Masai  killed  all  the  adult  males,  the 
Bechuana  took  no  prisoners.  The  Fans  took  them,  but  ate  them. 
The  Gallas  first  massacred  indiscriminately  in  Abyssinia;  they 
now  castrate  their  male  prisoners.*  But  mere  killing  did  not 
always  suffice;  an  easy  death  might  be  too  good  a  fate  for  an 
execrated  foe.  Torture,  which,  as  is  well  known,  reaches  its 
most  extreme  development  among  the  North  American  Indians, 
seems  to  be  due  to  no  more  recondite  motive  than  that  of 
revenge.  Thus,  according  to  Catlin,^  prisoners  are  tortured  in 
sufficient  numbers  to  atone  for  those  similarly  dealt  with  by 
their  enemies;  and  it  is  stated  that  children  are  encouraged  to 
take  part  in  the  process  in  order  to  instil  hardness  and  vindic- 
tive feelings  into  their  minds.  The  rude  Takhali,  according  to 
Waitz,^  give  their  children  a  regular  training  in  cruelty,  especially 
to  animals — as  though  this  were   necessary.     Torture  is  com- 

joumey's  end  they  might  be  adopted  by  those  who  had  lost  relations,  and 
when  bereaved  families  were  satisfied,  if  the  remaining  prisoners  seemed 
desirable  acquisitions  to  any  family  the  gauntlet  test  would  be  applied  to 
them.  They  would  be  lashed  by  the  women  and  children,  and  those  who 
fell  from  exhaustion  under  the  ordeal  would  be  dispatched,  the  survivors 
being  adopted.  It  should  be  added  that  when  adopted  captives  became 
discontented  with  their  new  life,  they  were  in  some  cases  set  at  liberty. 
Adoption,  as  already  mentioned,  was  in  this  tribe  the  rule  for  the  treat- 
ment of  women  and  children  captives  (Schoolcraft-Drake,  i.  218,  247; 
Morgan,  League  of  the  Iroquois,  341-344).  Morgan  adds  that  a  distinguished 
chief  was  sometimes  restored  to  his  own  people  as  a  mark  of  admiration. 
He  was  then  bound  in  honour  not  to  fight  against  his  conquerors  in 
futiu-e. 

Outside  the  North  American  Indians  we  do  not  hear  so  much  of  adop- 
tion, but  according  to  De  Rochas  (quoted  by  Letourneau,  op.  cit.,  p.  49)  it 
occurs  in  New  Caledonia,  presumably  when  the  victors'  larder  does  not 
need  replenishing,  or  when  the  need  of  making  good  the  losses  of  the 
village  is  more  pressing.  Similarly  among  the  Andamanese,  Man  (J.  A.  I., 
xii.  356)  states  that  though  women  and  children  may  be  killed  in  a  night 
attack  on  a  village,  the  child,  if  taken  alive,  would  be  treated  kindly,  in 
the  hope  of  inducing  it  to  join  the  captor's  tribe. 

1  Reclus,  p.  128,  but  Waitz  (iii.  157)  says  that  the  Apaches  sometunes 
tormented  their  prisoners,  sometimes  sold  them. 

^  Waitz,  loc.  cit. 

*  Powers,  Tribes  of  Calfornia,  405. 

*  Post,  Afrik.  Jurisprudenz,  i.  84,  85. 

*  Catlin,  ii.  240.  •  Waitz,  iii.  117. 


240  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

monest  among  the  eastern  and  southern  tribes  of  North  America, 
and  did  not  occur  among  all  the  tribes  of  the  West.^  The  hor- 
rible history  is  only  lightened  by  the  extraordinary  stories  of  forti- 
tude with  which  it  was  borne  and  by  occasional  instances  of  self- 
sacrifice,  such  as  that  of  a  certain  Chippewa  chief,  Bi-ans-wah, 
who,  having  been  taken  captive,  was  saved  by  his  father,  a  noted 
warrior,  who  voluntarily  surrendered  himself  to  the  conquering 
tribe  and  offered  himself  for  torture  in  his  son's  place.  It  is  one 
of  the  few  gleams  of  light  which  break  the  darkness  of  savage 
history  to  read  that  later  in  life  the  rescued  Bi-ans-wah  made 
an  agreement  with  the  Sioux  by  which  the  burning  of  prisoners 
was  stopped  on  both  sides. 

The  next  alternative  to  torture  is  that  of  cannibalism. 
Cannibalism  may  have  either  a  magical,  a  religious,  or  a 
purely  materialistic  value ;  and,  as  warfare  develops  and  becomes 
systematic,  and  especially  as  some  barbarous  tribe  consolidates 
itself  and  grows  stronger  than  its  neighbours,  the  practice 
assumes  gigantic  proportions.  Prisoners  are  not  merely  killed 
and  eaten  on  the  spot,^  but  are  taken  home,  well  treated  and 
fattened  for  the  slaughter,  possibly  provided  with  a  wife  and 
encouraged  to  breed  a  family  for  the  same  purpose.  There  comes, 
indeed,  a  stage,  perhaps  the  most  revolting  in  the  history  of  human 
development,  at  which  the  weaker  tribes  are  made  almost  to 
perform  the  functions  of  cattle  in  the  economy  of  life  for  the 
stronger.  This  tendency  has  its  parallel — to  some  extent  its 
alternative — in  the  development  of  human  sacrifice,  whether  for 
religious  or  magical  reasons.  In  the  higher  grade  of  agriculture 
we  find  a  drop  in  the  proportion  of  cases  of  cannibalism  reported, 
but  a  marked  rise  in  human  sacrifice  {Simpler  Peoples,  pp.  241- 
242).  The  human  victim  may  be  a  feast  for  the  gods.  Or  it 
may  be  that  by  eating  the  dead  man,  and  particularly  by  eating 
certain  parts  of  him,  such  as  his  heart,^  the  conqueror  is  held  to 
acquire  his  virtues,  or  some  occult  influence  is  supposed  to  be 
exercised  upon  the  crops,  the  weather,  the  stability  of  a  bridge, 
or  the  fortunes  of  war. 


^  Waitz,  iii.  157.  Except  among  the  North  American  Indians,  I  find  the 
torture  of  prisoners  but  rarely  referred  to  by  ethnologists,  unless  as  an 
incident  of  cannibalism,  human  sacrifice,  or  the  slave  trade.  But  Waitz 
(v.  ii.  134)  attributes  the  practice  to  some  Micronesians.  It  was  not 
unconunon  in  mediseval  Europe. 

*  The  suggestively  named  "  Niam-niam"  are  said  to  advance  to  battle 
with  the  cry,  "  Meat,  meat !  To  the  oven,  to  the  oven  !  "  (Letoumeau, 
p.  86). 

^  For  example,  among  the  Yoruba,  hearts  are  regularly  sold  to  give 
courage  (Ellis,  Yoruba- speaking  Peoples,  p.  69), 


RELATIONS  BETWEEN  COMMUNITIES  241 

Cannibalism  is,  or  has  been,  widely  spread  ^  throughout  Africa, 
Oceania,  South  America  and  Australia  (though  it  would  be 
too  much  to  say  that  it  was  general  anywhere),^  and  often 
where  it  is  not  now  a  flourishing  institution  there  are  distinct 
traces  of  it  in  legend  ^  or,  as  among  the  Micronesians  and  the 
Andamanese,  in  the  belief  that  strangers  or  neighbouring  tribes  * 
are  cannibalistic  or,  again,  in  certain  magical  rights  and  customs 
'"•aving  a  cannibalistic  significance.  The  Melanesians  are  not 
cannibals,  yet  they  will  eat  a  piece  of  a  dead  man's  flesh  to  estab- 
lish communion  with  his  ghost. ^  Among  the  North  American 
Indians,  where  it  is  rare  within  the  times  of  which  we  have  a 
record,  we  have  phrases  like  "  eating  the  heart  of  an  enemy  and 
drinking  his  blood,"  which  probably  are  not  mere  metaphors. 
The  Sioux,  who  in  later  times  abhorred  cannibalism,  used  at 
one  time  to  eat  the  heart  of  an  enemy.  The  Chippewas  are 
said  to  have  practised  cannibalism.  The  name  "  mohawk " 
means  "  man-eater,"  and  in  certain  tribes  there  were  special 
societies  of  cannibals  who  were  deemed  to  possess  magical 
powers.^  Passing  to  tropical  America,  the  Caribs,  who  lived  a 
blameless  and  well-ordered  life  among  themselves,  made  such 
frequent  cannibal  raids  that  the  very  name  of  "  cannibal  "  is 
supposed  to  be  a  corruption  of  their  tribal  name.  In  Guatemala 
and  Nicaragua,  prisoners  were  generally '  sacrificed  and  eaten, 
while  it  was  in  ancient  Mexico  that  cannibalism  and  human 
sacrifice  reached  probably  their  greatest  development  in  history. 
The  Mexicans  maintained  an  eternal  warfare  with  the  TIaxcala 

^  It  is  not,  of  course,  confined  to  captives,  though  they  are  the  handiest 
material  if  available.  Sometimes  the  aged  are  eaten,  as  among  the  Battas 
of  Sumatra  (Waitz,  v.  i.  189).  Sometimes  the  yoimg.  For  example, 
among  the  Central  Australians,  a  younger  child  is  eaten  in  order  to  give 
strength  to  an  elder  (Spencer  and  Gillen,  i.  475).  Sometimes  a  slave. 
Sometimes  it  is  a  gruesome  punishment,  e.  g.  for  adultery,  treason, 
espionage,  and  robbery  by  night  among  the  Battas,  who  also  eat  their 
prisoners  (Waitz,  loc.  cit.,  188). 

*  It  is  very  rare  in  Asia  and  North  America.  We  have  found  only  one 
case  of  cannibalism  and  none  of  himaan  sacrifice  among  Pastoral  peoples 
{op.  cit.,  pp.  240,  242). 

*  Enemies  are  still  eaten  in  the  Luritcha  tribe  of  the  Central  Australians. 
Among  the  Arunta,  cannibalism,  if  not  wholly  discarded,  is  very  slightly 
practised,  but  its  memory  lives  in  many  traditions  of  the  "  AlcheTinga  " — 
the  Australians'  "  great  long  ago  " — and  some  of  the  Engwura  ceremonies 
are  thought  to  represent  its  suppression  (Spencer  and  Gillen,  i.  324,  473-475). 

*  The  Ainus  of  the  Tokapchi  district  are  particularly  addicted  to  night 
attacks,  and  are  alleged  to  have  been  cannibals,  and  tve  even  now  abhorred 
by  their  neighbours  (Batchelor,  Ainu  of  Japan,  2S8). 

'  5  Codrington,  J.  A.  I.,  x.  285. 
^  Waitz,  iii.  159. 

'  According  to  Torquemada.     According  to  some  other  authorities,  the 
practice  was  confined  to  certain  tribes  (Waitz,  iv.  264). 
R 


242  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

in  order  that  the  supply  of  captives  for  sacrifiee  might  be  kept 
up.  The  victim  was  identified  with  the  god,  and  his  killing  and 
eating  meant  a  resurrection  of  the  god  and  a  renewal  of  his 
strength.^  According  to  the  Mexican  legend  the  gods  them- 
selves sacrificed  themselves  to  the  sun  to  endue  him  with  strength 
to  do  his  work,  and  they  handed  on  the  duty  to  their  human 
representatives,  directing  men  to  fight  and  kill  each  other  to 
provide  the  sun  with  food.^  Among  the  Guaranis  of  South 
America  a  sixteenth-century  account  describes  the  cannibal 
sacrifice  of  prisoners,  who,  with  an  exaggeration  of  cruelty, 
were  given  a  wife  previously,  and  if  there  was  a  child  it  was 
fattened  and  eaten. ^ 

Finally,  with  the  category  of  ideas  to  which  cannibalism  and 
human  sacrifice  belong  we  should  connect  the  head-hunting 
raids  especially  common  in  the  Malayo-Polynesian  region.  The 
carefully-preserved  skull  is  at  once  a  trophy  and  proof  of  valour, 
a  memorial  of  vengeance,  and  a  property  of  magic  powers. 
Different  aspects  are  specialty  prominent  among  different  peoples. 
The  Nagas  of  the  Indian  Hills,  all  of  whom  are  head-hunters, 
are  said  to  keep  the  skull  to  glut  their  vengeance.*  In  Melanesia 
the  idea  of  human  sacrifice  is  prominent  and  we  are  closer  to 
cannibalism.  For  at  the  funeral  of  a  chief  an  expedition  starts 
off  to  take  heads  in  his  honour,  and  any  one  with  whom  it 
falls  in,  not  being  of  the  chief's  own  people,  serves  the  pur- 
pose. The  object  alleged,  in  one  of  the  islands — Florida — for 
human  sacrifice  to  the  dead,  is  that  "  mana  "  is  obtained — the 
mysterious  power  with  which  chiefs  are  endowed  in  life  as  well 
as  after  death,  which  they  can  transmit  from  the  grave  to  those 
who  then  put  themselves  into  communion  with  them.  Further, 
in  another  Melanesian  island  —  Ysabel  —  the  human  victim  is 
eaten,  and  we  have  full-blown  magical  cannibalism ;  and,  to  illus- 
trate the  affinity  of  ideas,  we  find  that  in  Florida,  where  the 
victim  is  supposed  only  to  be  sacrificed,  it  is  admitted  that  a 
little  flesh  is  eaten.^  But  with  these  customs  we  are  passing 
away  from  the  special  ethics  of  war  into  those  of  primitive 
religion  generally.  Head-hunting  may  be  a  purely  private 
matter.  It  may  be  an  incident  in  the  making  up  of  a  blood 
feud,  as  among  the  Lampongs  of  Sumatra,  where  the  murderer 
must  appease  his  victim's  family  with  two  skulls  and  a  victim 
to  be  buried  at  the  grave. ^     It  may  be  a  matter  of  private  ven- 

1  Payne,  History  of  the  New  World  called  America,  i.  470.  Frazer,  iii. 
134  ff. 

*  Pajme,  i.  504.  ^  Letourneau,  LaFemme,  160,  161,  163, 

*  Godden,  J.  A.  I.,  xxvii.  15. 

»  Codrington,  J.  A.  I.,  x.  308,  309.  ?  Waitz,  v.  149. 


RELATIONS  BETWEEN  COMMUNITIES  243 

geance  or  gain  or  glory,  as  among  the  Nagas,  where  men  lurk 
about  the  water-ghat  of  a  hostile  village  for  the  first  woman  or 
child  that  comes  to  draw  water.  Or  it  may  be,  as  sometimes 
among  the  same  people,  the  express  object  of  an  organized 
expedition.^  In  the  former  case  it  is  at  most  an  incident  in  the 
life  of  neighbouring  hostile  villages.  Only  in  the  latter  is  it  the 
object  of  regular  warfare. 

A  horrible  feature  of  Naga  head-hunting  is  that  the  skull  of  a 
woman  or  child,  even  a  baby  in  arms,  in  prized  as  much  as  a 
man's.  It  is  even  thought  a  greater  feat  to  obtain  one,  since 
it  implies  the  boldness  of  penetrating  into  the  heart  of  the 
enemy's  country.  This  indiscriminate  slaughter  of  women  and 
children  is  frequent,  but  not  universal,  in  savage  and  barbaric 
warfare.^  Among  these  same  Nagas,  in  the  feuds  of  clans  as 
distinguished  from  the  wars  between  tribes,  the  women  are 
sometimes  spared.  In  the  quarrels  of  the  Luhuga  killing  is 
limited  by  agreement,  and  the  women  are  not  injured.  It  is  a 
bright  spot  in  the  sombre  picture  of  the  North  American  Indian 
warfare  that  women  were  respected.  The  reason  was  a  magico- 
religious  belief,  in  which  it  is  open  to  us  to  find  an  ethical 
element,  that  unchastity  would  bring  misfortune.  The  Dakotas, 
we  are  told,  "  generally  treat  female  captives  with  respect.  We 
hear  of  no  violation  of  chastity  on  their  war  parties.  During 
their  absence  the  cause  of  their  being  chaste  on  their  excursions, 
they  say,  is  that  they  may  not  bring  vengeance  down  upon  their 
own  heads — that  is,  displease  the  spirits  of  the  deceased  and  the 
war  medicine,  as  they  would  be  made  to  suffer  for  their  incon- 
tinency.  They  must  keep  themselves  from  women  all  the  time 
they  are  out  at  war.  Superstition  has  a  controlling  influence 
over  them  in  this  as  in  other  respects."  ^  Among  the  Hurons 
and  in  Virginia,  though  no  quarter  was  given,  as  a  rule,  in  the 
fight,  women  and  children  were  generally  made  prisoners.  The 
Winnebagos  *  say  that  they  respect  chastity  in  war  at  the  bidding 
of  the  Great  Spirit.  The  Iroquois  did  no  violence  to  women 
captives,  and  Catlin  states  this  as  the  general  rule  of  the 
Indians  that  he  knew.  An  exception  are  the  Indians  of  Texas, 
who  treated  female  captives  with  cruelty.  But  the  general  rule 
for  women  captives  was  adoption  in  a  servile  condition.  Simi- 
larly in  Oceania,  it  is  stated  that  in  the  feuds  of  the  little  island 

^  Godden,  loc.  cit.         ^  Godden,  op.  cit.,  p.  13,  quoting  Sir  J.  Johnstons. 

'  Prescott,  in  Schoolcraft,  iv.  63.  The  magical  element  in  this  con- 
ception comes  out  well  in  the  point  that  among  the  Iroquois  the  war-chief 
was  generally  unmarried  (Waitz,  iii.  158).  The  general  idea  is  clearly 
that  women  are  taboo  to  fighting  men  as  injuring  their  powers. 

*  See  Schoolcraft-Drake,  i.  188. 


244  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

of  Rotuma  women  are  respected,  and  that  in  the  Carolinas  and 
the  Marshall  and  Gilbert  Islands  women  prisoners  are  generally 
spared.  At  a  higher  level,  among  the  Kabyles  of  North  Africa 
we  are  told  that  women  are  respected  in  war,  and  even  in  an 
assault  upon  a  village  are  not  molested.  Sometimes  the  women 
are  so  completely  free  from  danger  that  they  come  and  go  with- 
out hindrance  in  the  hostile  territory,  or  look  on  calmly  at  the 
battle  and  perhaps  in  the  end  effect  a  reconciliation.  This  is 
the  more  intelligible  when  the  fighting  tribes  are  exogamous,  so 
that  the  wife  of  a  warrior  on  one  side  is  sister  or  daughter  of  a 
champion  on  the  other.  In  this  capacity  they  act  as  reconcilers 
among  the  Kolarian  tribes  of  Bengal.^  Often,  as  among  the 
Australians  and  the  Papuans,  they  are  employed  as  envoys  and 
are  inviolable.^  But  more  often,  though  unmolested  in  the 
actual  warfare,  the  fate  which  awaits  them  as  prisoners  is  no 
enviable  one.  While  the  men  are  tortured,  eaten,  sacrificed  or 
simply  killed,  the  women  and  children  are  carried  off  as  slaves.^ 
This  is  one  of  the  commonest  methods  of  dealing  with  prisoners 
in  the  uncivilized  world.  A  slightly  higher  level  is  reached 
when  the  male  captives  are  allowed  to  share  the  fate  of  their 
wives  and  children. 

For  there  comes  a  time  in  social  development  when  the  victor 
sees  that  a  live  prisoner  is,  after  all,  better  than  a  dead  one. 
Speaking  generally,  the  custom  of  enslaving  male  prisoners  does 
not  arise  until  two  conditions  have  been  satisfied.  On  the  one 
hand,  a  certain  level  of  industrial  organization  must  have  been 
reached,  making  slave  labour  desirable,  unless  slaves  are  taken  to 
sell  to  other  peoples  as  by  the  Kirghiz ;  on  the  other,  a  certain 
warlike  supremacy  must  have  been  attained  by  the  slave-holding 
tribe  which  has  familiarized  it  with  the  possession  of  captives, 
and  so  given  scope  for  the  habit  of  utilizing  them  to  grow  up.* 

1  Reclus,  295.  '  Letourneau,  La  Guerre,  p.  3G. 

'  Among  the  North  American  Indians,  while  the  males  (unless  adopted) 
were  generally  tortured  and  killed,  women  and  children  were  more  often 
taken  captives,  and  adopted  in  a  servile  position  (Waitz,  iii.  154,  156). 
The  enslavement  of  women  in  Black  Africa  is  referred  to  below.  Similarly, 
at  the  other  end  of  the  old  world,  among  the  Ainus,  the  result  of  the  fre- 
quent night-raids,  whereby  a  quarrel  between  villages  is  avenged,  is  that 
nearly  all  the  males  are  killed  while  the  women  and  children  are  enslaved, 
the  women  often  as  concubines  (Batchelor,  288).  In  this  connection  it 
mvist  be  remembered  that  in  forty  or  more  peoples  practising  marriage  by 
capture  as  a  full  reality,  the  possession  of  a  woman  is  the  direct  object  of  the 
war  or  raid. 

*  The  proportion  of  cases  in  which  slaves  are  taken  stands  at  about 
one -fifth  or  one -sixth  among  the  Higher  Hunters  and  the  two  first  grades 
of  agriculture,  and  moves  abruptly  to  seven-twelfths  in  the  higher  grade 
{Simpler  Peoples,  p.  232). 


RELATIONS   BETWEEN  COMMUNITIES  245 

Perhaps  a  third  negative  condition  may  be  added,  that  the 
vindictive  passions  must  be  sufficiently  held  in  check  to  pre- 
vent their  gratification  in  the  moment  of  victory.  It  is  thus 
not  until  the  higher  savagery,  or,  perhaps,  the  lower  levels  of 
barbarism,  that  we  find  slavery  beginning  to  develop  in  any 
marked  degree,  and  universally  it  has  flourished  more  in  races 
capable  of  permanent  and  steady  labour  than  with  those  which 
are  either  hunters  or  fighters  or  nothing.  It  was  impossible 
to  create  a  large  slave  population  among  the  North  American 
Indians  east  of  the  Rockies,  and  we  only  find  the  practice  of 
slave-holding  among  them  in  scattered  instances.  West  of  the 
Rockies,  on  the  other  hand,  slavery  is  general.^  In  other  parts 
of  the  savage  world  it  is  the  ordinary  alternative  to  the  exter- 
mination of  the  vanquished.  In  Oceania,  the  one  method  of 
treatment  sometimes  replaces  the  other.  Thus,  among  the 
Papuans,  war  is  the  more  savage  and  cannibalistic  where  slavery 
is  little  practised. 2  Or  the  two  methods  may  be  combined,  as  in 
the  Solomon  Islands,  where,  in  addition  to  war,  a  regular  trade 
recruits  the  slave  market,  not  only,  however,  for  purposes  of 
labour,  but  also  for  purposes  of  cannibaHsm  and  human  sacrifice. 
Again,  in  Fiji  the  slaves  are  not  worked  hard,  but  are  fattened 
for  eating;  and  throughout  Melanesia,  on  the  whole,  slavery 
rather  subserves  cannibalism  than  opposes  it.  In  Polynesia, 
human  victims  were  generally  chosen  from  prisoners  of  war  and 
from  slaves.  In  tropical  South  America  prisoners  may  be  put  to 
death  (and  perhaps  eaten),  enslaved  or  adopted.^  Throughout 
Black  Africa  the  two  institutions  also  coexist,  the  general  rule 
being  that  where  the  men  are  killed,  and  perhaps  eaten,  the 
women  and  children  may  be  enslaved.  Thus,  the  Waganda 
slay  all  the  men  and  enslave  the  women  and  children;  the 
Bali  kill  all  the  men;  the  Wakuafi  enslave  them  ;  the 
Bechuana  take  no  prisoners.*  On  the  whole,  however,  through 
savage  and  barbarian  Africa,  with  the  exception  of  the  Kaffir 

1  e.  g.  it  is  universal  in  Oregon  (Waitz,  iii.  345).  Cf.  Major  Alvord,  in 
Schoolcraft,  v.  654,  where  an  instance  is  given  of  a  slave  being  sacrificed 
on  his  master's  death. 

*  Letoumeau,  UEsclavcuje,  p.  35.  According  to  the  same  authority 
(La  Guerre,  pp.  38,  39)  head-hunting  is  common,  and  a  woman's  skull  is  as 
valuable  as  a  man's.  But  women  and  girls  are  often  spared  in  raids  and 
taken  for  concubines.  According  to  Kohler  {Z.  f.  vgl.  Rechtswissenschajt, 
1900,  p.  364)  slavery  and  a  slave-trede  occur  in  certain  parts,  and  slaves 
are  sometimes  eaten.  Adoption,  however,  is  another  possible  alternative 
to  cannibalism  in  some  parts  of  Oceania,  e.  g.  in  New  Caledonia,  where 
slavery  is  unknown  (Letoumeau,  La  Querre,  p.  49). 

3  Schmidt,  Z.  f.  V.  B.,  1898,  p.  294. 

*  Post,  Afrik.  Jurisprudenz,  i.  85. 


246  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

tribes,^  slavery  is  universal  and  strongly  developed,  and  its 
principal  source  of  recruitment  is  war.  Throughout  the  Malay 
world  the  enslavement  of  captives  is  found  as  an  alternative  to 
cannibalism  and  head-hunting,  while,  again,  in  the  tribes  of  the 
Asiatic  Steppes  the  captives  are  often  put  to  death,  but  slaves  or 
serfs  are  numerous  in  proj)ortion  to  the  wealth  and  fighting 
power  of  the  people  who  hold  them. 

We  may  briefly  summarize  these  characteristics  of  savage  and 
barbaric  war  by  saying  that  it  is  waged,  not  merely  by  tribe 
against  tribe,  but  by  individuals  against  individuals.  Its  motive 
is  often  vengeance,  the  slaying  of  a  man  or  the  kidnapping  of 
a  woman,  and  whether  it  ends  in  the  extermination  or  the  en- 
slavement of  the  beaten  party,  or  even  in  the  milder  alternative 
of  their  adoption,  it  is  equally  directed  against  the  individual 
persons  who  constitute  the  hostile  community.  The  conquered 
in  war  stand  with  their  persons  and  property  wholly  at  the 
disposal  of  the  victors.  Their  fate  may  be  harsher  or  milder. 
They  may  be  eaten,  or  sacrificed,  or  tortured,  or  simply  slain 
where  they  stand ;  their  lives  may  be  spared,  and  they  may 
be  led  into  slavery.  But  in  all  these  cases — and  they  form 
the  overwhelming  majority — they  are  treated  as  rightless  and 
defenceless  against  those  who  conquer  them.  Even  in  the  case 
where  they  are  adopted  as  members  of  the  conquering  tribe,  it 
can  scarcely  be  said  that  their  personal  rights  are  taken  into 
consideration. 

4,  In  early  civilization  the  character  of  war  is  not  fundament- 
ally changed  in  this  respect.  Only  the  growth  of  industry  and 
of  a  settled  order  is  a  stimulus  to  the  general  enslavement  of 
prisoners  in  preference  to  their  destruction,  while  the  develop- 
ment of  military  power  increases  the  means  of  capture.  Canni- 
balism generally  dies  out — the  case  of  Mexico  is  an  exception. 
Human  sacrifice  also  occurs,  but  in  the  majority  of  instances,  if 
the  prisoners  are  not  slain  in  pure  vengeance,  they  are  either 
carried  off  as  slaves  to  the  conqueror  (and  many  of  the  great 
works  of  early  civilization  were  built  by  slave  labour  of  this  kind) 
or  a  tribute  is  laid  upon  them,  and  they  become  a  semi-servile 
population. 

In  ancient  Egypt  we  find  traces  of  cannibalism  in  the  pyra- 
midal inscriptions,  but  they  are  not  specially  connected  with 
warfare.     Something  of  the  nature  of  human  sacrifice,  however, 

^  For  very  divergent  accounts  of  the  Kaffirs  both  as  to  treatment  of 
prisoners  and  as  to  the  extent  to  which  they  recognized  slavery,  see  Waitv., 
ii.  398;  Letourneau,  La  Gwe^re,  96,  97 ;  id.,  L'Esclavage,p.  53. 


RELATIONS  BETWEEN  COMMUNITIES  247 

appears  to  have  persisted  to  a  late  epoch.  No  bas  rehef  is 
more  familiar  to  the  traveller  in  Egypt  than  that  represent- 
ing the  king  as  a  gigantic  figure  holding  up  a  mace  to  smite 
the  heads  of  a  bunch  of  little  captives,  whom  he  holds  with 
one  hand,  in  the  presence  of  a  triad  of  gods.  This  scene, 
found  among  some  of  the  very  earliest  of  Egyptian  monuments, 
recurs  in  the  Middle  and  New  Kingdoms.^  In  some  cases  the 
bulk  of  the  males  were  simply  exterminated,  but  chiefs  were 
selected,  either  for  sacrifice  or  for  special  vengeance.  Thothmes 
II.  (18th  Dynasty)  records  :  "  This  army  of  his  Majesty  over- 
threw these  foreigners.  They  took  the  life  of  every  male  accord- 
ing to  all  that  his  Majesty  commanded,  except  that  one  of 
those  children  of  the  Prince  of  Kush  was  brought  alive  as  a  live 
prisoner,  with  his  household,  to  his  Majesty,  and  placed  under 
the  foot  of  the  good  god."^  Again,  Amenhotep  II.  (18th  Dynasty) 
narrates  how  "  His  Majesty  returned  in  joy  of  heart  to  his  father 
Amen.  His  hand  had  struck  down  the  seven  chiefs  with  his 
mace  himself.  .  .  .  They  were  hung  up  by  the  feet  on  the 
front  of  the  bark  of  his  Majesty.  .  .  .  The  six  of  these  enemies 
were  hung  in  front  of  the  walls  of  Thebes,  and  the  hands  in 
the  same  manner."  ^  The  hands  in  this  passage  refer  to  the 
method  of  enumerating  the  slain.  Of  those  who  were  killed 
the  hands  were  cut  o£E  and  sent  to  the  king  as  a  voucher  for  the 
number  destroyed,  and  so  the  number  of  hands  is  a  recognized 
expression  for  the  number  of  slain  warriors,  and  we  have 
representations  upon  the  monuments  of  heaps  of  hands  of  dead 
captives  being  brought  in  and  piled  before  the  triumphant 
king. 

On  the  other  hand,  many  of  the  Egyptian  warlike  expeditions 
were  apparently  mere  slave  razzias.  Thus,  the  officer  Se'anch, 
who  opened  up  Hammamat  under  the  1 1th  Dynasty,  records  how 
he  "  repaired  to  the  sea  and  hunted  people  and  hunted  cattle,  and 
I  came  to  this  region  with  sixty  full-grown  people  and  seventy 

1  Usurtesen  (12th  Djmasty)  set  up  a  stele  commemorating  his  victories 
over  the  peoples  beyond  the  Cataract.  Ten  of  their  principal  chiefs  had 
passed  before  Anion  as  prisoners,  their  arms  tied  behind  their  backs,  and 
had  been  sacrificed  at  the  foot  of  the  altar  by  the  sovereign  himself.  Tliere 
are  instances  of  human  sacrifice  as  late  as  the  Christian  epoch  (Amelineau, 
La  Morale  Egyptienne,  Introduction,  p.  76).  Amru,  the  Mohammedan  con- 
queror of  Egypt,  forbade  a  young  girl  being  thrown  into  the  river  to  get 
a  good  inundation.  This,  of  course,  is  not  connected  directly  with  warfare, 
but  as  prisoners  had  been  the  principal  source  of  sacrifice  to  the  gods 
in  earlier  times,  the  persistence  of  the  idea  of  human  sacrifice  throws  an 
ill-omened  light  upon  their  lot,  even  in  later  days. 

^  Flinders  Petrie,  History  of  Egypt,  llth  and  ISth  Dynasties,  p.  73. 

s  ib.,  156. 


248  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

of  their  young  children  at  a  single  time."  Similarly,  tlsurtesen 
III.  (12th  Dynasty)  commemorates  his  victory  over  the  Nubians  : 
"  I  have  carried  ofiE  their  women  and  captured  their  men,  for  I 
marched  to  their  well.  I  slew  their  oxen,  cut  down  their  corn 
and  set  fire  to  it."  ^ 

The  appropriate  god,  of  course,  took  a  part  with  zest  in  these 
proceedings.  "The  good  god  exults  when  he  begins  to  fight; 
he  is  joyful  when  he  is  to  cross  the  frontier,  and  is  content  when 
he  sees  blood;  he  cuts  ofE  the  heads  of  his  enemies,  and  an 
hour  of  fighting  gives  him  more  delight  than  a  day  of  pleasure," 
So  say  the  inscriptions  of  the  19th  Dynasty.  Mercilessness  is 
idealized.  Eulogizing  the  king,  Sinuhit  says  :  "  He  is  a  lion 
who  strikes  with  the  claw  ...  he  has  a  heart  closed  to  pity; 
when  he  sees  the  multitudes  he  lets  nothing  remain  behind 
him."  And  Sinuhit  himself,  in  narrating  a  single  gombat  with 
his  foe,  expresses  with  admirable  terseness  the  primitive  theory 
of  retaliation  :  "I  shot  at  him,  and  my  arrow  struck  in  his  neck. 
He  cried  out  and  fell  upon  his  nose.  I  brought  down  upon  him 
his  own  battle-axe.  .  .  .  Then  I  took  his  goods,  I  seized  his 
cattle.  What  he  had  thought  to  do  to  me  I  did  it  unto  him. 
I  seized  that  wliich  was  in  his  tent;  I  spoiled  his  dwelling; 
I  grew  great  thereby."  ^ 

Thus  the  rightlessness  of  the  captured  enemy  was  complete. 
The  ideas  of  vengeance  and  retaliation  were  practically  unmiti- 
gated, and  no  softening  influence  was  exerted  by  religion.  Upon 
the  other  hand,  the  idea  of  a  regular  treaty  with  a  foreign  nation 
was  distinctly  understood.  Thus  we  have,  in  the  reign  of 
Rameses  II.,  a  treaty  with  the  Hittites,  providing  for  the  return 
of  deserters  from  either  country  to  their  original  home,  and 
promising  that  neither  the  deserter  himself  nor  his  wives  or 
children  shall  be  destroyed,  nor  his  mother  be  slain.^ 

In  the  sister  civilization  of  the  Euphrates  and  Tigris  Valleys 
more  is  known  of  the  warlike  methods  of  the  relatively  bar- 
barous Assyrians  than  of  the  relatively  civilized  Babylonians. 
Of  the  Babylonians  our  principal  information  comes  from  their 
treatment  of  the  Jews,  which  included  their  arbitrary  removal 
from  their  own  land  into  a  species  of  captivity,  of  the  conditions 

1  Cf.  the  complacent  account  in  the  inscription  of  Uni  (Sayce,  Records 
of  the  Past  (new  series),  vol.  ii.  p.  7).  Sometimes  the  captives  became 
the  spoil  of  the  general  himself.  Aahmes,  in  the  beginning  of  the  18th 
Dynasty,  gratefully  acknowledges  his  Majesty's  goodness  to  him  in  this 
respect  (Flinders  Petrie,  op.  cit.,  p.  22 ;  cf .  Erman,  506). 

^  Sayce,  op.  cit.,  vol.  ii.  p.  22. 

^  The  treaty,  however,  is  now  held  to  be  more  Hittite  than  Egyptian  in 
origin. 


RELATIONS  BETWEEN  COMMUNITIES  249 

cf  which  we  know  little,  but,  with  the  exception  of  the  putting 
out  of  Zedekiah's  eyes,  we  hardly  hear  of  the  personal  tortures 
so  savagety  boasted  of  by  one  after  another  of  the  Assyrian 
kings.  Towards  the  Ba^donians  the  Assyrians  themselves 
were  mild  in  comparison  with  their  treatment  of  other  people; 
but  the  boasting  of  the  Assyrian  conquerors  over  the  horrors 
perpetrated  under  their  orders,  though  it  appears  in  certain 
details  to  have  been  exaggerated  by  mistranslation,  will 
probably  always  remain  the  classical  exposition  of  naked  and 
boastful  ferocity  in  warfare.  "  To  the  city  of  Kinabu,"  says 
Assur-nasir-pal  (883-885  B.C.),  "  I  approached.  ...  I  captured 
it.  Six  hundred  of  their  fighting  men  I  slew  with  the  sword, 
3000  of  their  captives  I  burned  with  fire.  .  .  .  The  people  of 
the  country  of  Nirbu  encouraged  one  another  .  .  .  the  city  of 
Tela  was  very  strong  .  .  .  3000  of  their  fighting  men  I  slew 
with  the  sword;  their  spoil,  their  goods,  their  oxen  and  their 
sheep  I  carried  away;  their  numerous  captives  I  burned  with 
fire.  I  captured  many  of  the  soldiers  alive  with  the  hand.  I 
cut  oJ6f  the  hands  and  feet  of  some ;  I  cut  off  the  noses,  the  ears 
and  the  fingers  of  others;  the  eyes  of  the  numerous  soldiers 
I  put  out."  Again,  in  another  city,  "  I  impaled  700  men 
upon  stakes  at  the  approach  of  their  great  gate.  The  city  I 
overthrew,  dug  up  and  reduced  to  a  mound  and  ruin.  Their 
young  men  and  their  maidens  I  burned  as  a  holocaust."  ^ 
And  so  on  through  a  list  of  mutilations,  burnings  and 
impalements. 

Quarter,  of  course,  was  not  always  refused.  Often  the  king 
narrates  that  the  captives  "  took  my  feet.  I  laid  hold  upon  them 
and  counted  them  among  the  men  of  my  own  country."  And 
it  should  be  noted  that,  in  the  Assyrian  Pantheon,  there  was  at 
least  one  god  who  apparently  made  for  righteousness  and  mercy. 
Asshur  is  always  identified  with  the  conquering  king,  who  fights 
with  Asshur,  and  wins  victories  for  Asshur.  But  Shamash  bestows 
his  favours  on  the  kings  for  righteousness,  and  it  is  at  least 
worth  noting  that  we  find  Tiglath-Pileser  setting  captives  free 
in  Shamash's  presence.  The  conquered  might  be  carried  off  as 
slaves,  or  they  might  remain  as  tributaries,  and  the  unwieldy 
and  short-lived  empires  of  the  Near  East  consisted  of  such 
tributary  states,  frequently  rebelling,  and  reduced  by  great 
barbarity  to  submission  and  the  payment  of  further  tribute. 
Probably  the  increased  number  of  slaves  in  later,  as  compared 
with  earlier  Babylonian  times,  may  be  ascribed  to  a  long  course 
of  successful  warfare. 

^  Sayce,  Records  of  the  Past,  ii.  145,  159,  etc. 


250  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

5.  The  religious  motive  which,  among  the  Assyrians  and 
Egyptians,  merely  adds  emphasis  and  a  certain  exaltation  to 
warlike  ferocity,  became  among  the  Hebrews  a  reason  for  carry- 
ing the  savage  practices  of  extermination  to  the  extreme.  We 
are  perhaps  hardly  to  assume  that  the  primitive  tribes  who 
conquered  Canaan  were  in  reality  so  bloodthirsty  as  their 
historians  represent  them.  The  destruction,  as  commentators 
say,  takes  place  on  paper,  but  it  is  none  the  less  ethically  signifi- 
cant. The  rules  of  war  are  laid  down  in  the  twentieth  chapter  of 
Deuteronomy.  A  distinction  is  drawn  between  the  cities  which 
are  far  o£E  and  those  of  the  Canaanites.  In  the  former  case  the 
Hebrews  were  first  to  proclaim  peace  to  the  city  to  which  they 
drew  nigh,  and  "  if  it  make  thee  answer  of  peace,  and  open  unto 
thee,  then  it  shall  be  that  all  the  people  that  is  found  therein 
shall  become  tributary  unto  thee  and  shall  serve  thee."  This 
is  the  milder  fate.  But  if  it  makes  war  and  the  Lord  deliver  it 
"  into  thine  hand,  thou  shalt  smite  every  male  thereof  with  the 
edge  of  the  sword ;  but  the  women  and  the  little  ones,  and  the 
cattle,  and  all  that  is  in  the  city,  even  all  the  spoil  thereof,  shalt 
thou  take  for  a  prey  unto  thyself."  This  corresponds  closely 
enough  to  what  we  have  found  to  be  the  most  common  practice 
of  barbarian  warfare — tribute  or  forced  labour  from  those  who 
submit  voluntarily,  the  massacre  of  the  males  and  enslavement 
of  women  and  children  in  other  cases.  A  typical  case  is  narrated, 
presumably  as  an  example,^  in  Numbers,  where  all  the  male 
Midianites  are  slain,  but  the  women  and  children  are  taken ;  but 
Moses  is  wroth  with  the  host  for  saving  all  the  women  alive,  on 
the  ground  that  thej^  cause  Israel  to  trespass,  and  he  bids  them 
kill  every  male  among  the  little  ones  and  every  woman,  except 
the  virgins,  whom  they  may  keep  for  themselves.  Here  the 
fear  of  religious  contamination  comes  in,  and  this  is  carried  to 
an  extreme  in  the  case  of  the  Canaanite  cities  with  which  we  have 
now  to  deal.  They  were  to  be  utterly  destroyed.  "  Of  the 
cities  of  these  peoples  which  the  Lord  thy  God  giveth  thee  for 
an  inheritance,  thou  shalt  save  alive  nothing  that  breatheth." 
And  so,  in  the  conquest  of  Canaan,  Jericho  is  "  devoted,"  that  is 
to  say,  it  is  made  over  absolutely  to  Jahveh ;  the  city  with  every- 
thing belonging  to  it  is  sacred,  and  so  taboo  to  man,  and  a  curse 
is  laid  upon  the  site,  so  that  it  can  never  be  built  up  again.  When 
Achan  secretes  a  wedge  of  gold  taken  from  the  sj)oil,  he  com- 
municates the  curse  to  the  whole  host,  and  the  people  suffer 
defeat  until  they  remove  from  them  the  accursed  thing.  In 
point  of  fact  this  religious  extermination  was,  of  course,  very 
^  Num.  xxxi.  8,  9. 


RELATIONS  BETWEEN  COMMUNITIES  251 

!iw)omplete,  for  the  Canaanites  remained,  and  we  find  Solomon  ^ 
levying  a  tribute  of  bond  service  upon  them.  But  there  was 
much  savage  barbarity,  whether  from  religious  motives  or  merely 
from  revenge.  Joab  smote  every  male  in  Edom,^  and  when  he 
took  Rabbah,  "  he  brought  forth  the  people  that  were  therein, 
and  put  them  under  saws,  and  under  harrows  of  iron,  and 
under  axes  of  iron,  and  made  them  pass  through  the  brick- 
kiln,^ and  thus  did  he  unto  all  the  cities  of  the  children  of 
Ammon."  * 

Indiscriminate  massacres  were  sometimes  practised  in  the 
civil  wars  of  the  people,  as  in  the  case  of  the  male  Ephraimites 
who  could  not  pronounce  the  famous  shibboleth,^  and  of  the 
Benjamites,^  and  the  people  of  Jabesh-gilead  who  were  de- 
stroyed, men,  women  and  children,  for  not  joining  in  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  Benjamites.'  Only  in  two  points  does  a  higher  ethical 
conception  emerge.  First,  there  is  the  provision  for  a  female 
captive  in  Deuteronomy,  referred  to  in  a  previous  chapter. 
She  was  to  have  her  time  for  mourning,  and,  if  married  by  her 
captor,  was  not  to  be  sold  nor  dealt  with  as  a  slave,  "  because 
thou  hast  humbled  her."  Here  there  is  a  touch  of  humanity 
leavening  general  barbarism.  Another  point  is  the  observance 
of  the  oath  made  to  the  children  of  Gibeon.  They  deceived 
Joshua  into  thinking  they  were  strangers,  but  the  covenant 
with  them  was  to  be  observed  to  the  letter,  and  so  they  became 
hewers  of  wood  and  drawers  of  water  unto  all  the  congregation. 
The  oath,  that  is  to  say,  was  inviolable  though  taken  in  covenant 
with  a  foreigner  and  a  heathen. 

The  spirit  of  retaliation  and  the  taking  of  captives  persists 
even  in  the  post-exilic  writer  of  Isaiah  xiii.  and  xiv.  :  "  They  shall 
take  them  captive  whose  captives  they  were,  and  they  shall 

1   1  Ivings  ix.  20,  21.  "1  Kings  xi.  15. 

'  The  Revised  Version  mercifully  suggests  a  slight  change  in  the  text, 
which  would  run :  "  Made  them  labour  at  the  brick  mould  "  (2  Sam.  xii. 
31). 

■*  1  Chronicles  xx.  3.  ^  Judges  xii.  6. 

*  Judges  XX.  and  xxi. 

'  The  whole  story  of  Judges  xx.  and  xxi.  is  complex  and  probably 
derived  by  putting  different  and  incompatible  versions  together.  It  is 
intended  to  represent  an  execution  of  justice  for  a  wicked  act  upon  a  tribe, 
but  it  incidentally  reveals  the  barbarities  mentioned  in  the  text.  It  is  to 
be  observed,  however,  that  tlie  Israelites  shrink  from  the  utter  destruction 
of  a  tribe,  and  so  they  preserve  four  hundred  virgins  from  the  people 
of  Jabesh-gilead  as  wives  for  the  surviving  Benjamites,  whose  women  had 
been  destroyed,  while  they  further  encourage  the  Benjamites  to  carry  off 
maidens  from  the  feast  at  Shiloh  to  make  up  for  deficiencies,  an  inter- 
mingling of  crude  barbarisms  with  an  attempt  at  a  moral  which  could 
hardly  be  surpassed  for  confusion. 


252  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

rule  over  their  oppressors."  *  Yet  Micah  is  one  of  the  first  to 
dream  of  a  universal  peace.  God  "  shall  judge  between  many 
peoples,  and  shall  reprove  strong  nations  afar  off,  and  they  shall 
beat  their  swords  into  ploughshares  and  their  spears  into  pruning- 
hooks;  nation  shall  not  lift  up  sword  against  nation,  neither 
shall  they  learn  war  any  more."  With  this  passage,  which  is 
repeated  in  almost  the  same  terms  in  the  post-exilic  "  Isaiah,"  we 
find  the  religion  of  the  Jews  turning  its  face  away  from  the 
fierce  exclusiveness  which  led  merely  to  an  idealization  of  the 
most  savage  elements  of  warfare  towards  those  hopes  of  a  world- 
embracing  religion,  which  was  destined  to  so  mighty  a  growth, 
though  the  fruits  of  universal  peace  have  not  yet  been  borne. 

6.  So  far  we  have  dealt  with  the  essentially  warlike  peoples. 
As  we  go  further  east  we  come  to  that  part  of  the  human  race 
in  which  the  inherent  preference  of  peace  to  war,  professed  by 
other  peoples,  appears  to  be  more  of  a  reality.  Both  in  Hindu 
and  in  Chinese  ethics,  widely  different  as  they  are  in  other 
respects,  war  takes  a  lower  place  than  in  Western  civilization. 
India,  of  course,  had  its  heroic  age.  War  is  frequently  mentioned 
in  the  Vedas.  War  chariots  were  used,  and  spears,  swords, 
knives  and  defensive  armour.  Probably  the  Aryan  invaders  of 
India  did  not  differ  much  in  the  rules  of  warfare  from  their 
kindred  in  other  parts  of  the  world.  In  the  Mahabharata 
we  find  the  fighting  spirit  idealized.  Chivalry  is  recognized, 
and  honourable  and  dishonourable  methods  of  warfare  are 
distinguished. 

"  Red  with  rage,  Bhima  stepped  up  to  the  king-lion,  who  lay 
outstretched,  with  his  club  beside  him,  beat  in  his  skull  with  his 
foot,  and  said  :  '  We  have  not  laid  fire  to  burn  our  enemies,  nor 
cheated  them  in  the  game,  nor  outraged  their  wives;  by  the 
strength  of  our  arms  alone  we  destroy  our  enemies.'  "  ^ 

The  victors,  however,  carry  off  slave-women  along  with  the 
booty ;  so  that,  though  there  might  be  rules  of  chivalry  in  the 
fight,  the  prisoners,  as  in  barbaric  warfare,  were  at  the  disposal 
of  the  conqueror.  But  not  at  his  absolute  disposal ;  quarter  for 
the  vanquished  and  general  respect  for  women,  though  they 
appear  to  have  been  lawfully  part  of  the  spoil,  are  strongly 
insisted  upon.  Manu  has,  in  fact,  a  complete,  though  brief, 
legal  code  of  warfare. 

When  he  fights  with  his  foes  in  battle,  let  him  not  strike  with 
weapons  concealed  (in  wood),  nor  with  (such  as  are)  barbed, 

^  Isaiah  xiv.  2.  *  Duncker,  History  of  Antiquity,  vol.  iv.  p,  93. 


RELATIONS   BETWEEN  COMMUNITIES  253 

poisoned,  or  the  points  of  which  are  blazing  with  fire.  Let  him 
not  strike  one  who  (in  flight)  has  climbed  on  an  eminence,  nor  a 
eunuch,  nor  one  who  joins  the  palms  of  his  hands  (in  supplica- 
tion), nor  one  who  (flees)  with  flying  hair,  nor  one  who  sits  down, 
nor  one  who  says,  "  I  am  thine  "  Nor  one  who  sleeps,  nor  one 
who  has  lost  his  coat  of  mail,  nor  one  who  is  naked,  nor  one  who 
is  disarmed,  nor  one  who  looks  on  without  taking  part  in  the 
fight,  nor  one  who  is  fighting  with  another  (foe).  Nor  one  whose 
weapons  are  broken,  nor  one  afflicted  (with  sorrow),  nor  one  who 
has  been  grievously  wounded,  nor  one  who  is  in  fear,  nor  one  who 
has  turned  to  flight ;  (but  in  all  these  cases  let  him)  remember 
the  duty  (of  honourable  warriors).^ 

This  recognition  of  chivalrous  usage  and  limitation  of  the 
use  of  barbarous  methods  may  be  associated  with  that  general 
tendency  of  Indian  thought  which  put  the  priestly  caste  above 
the  warrior.  Purity  of  life  is  the  first  object,  and  the  spiritual 
law,  involving,  as  it  does  at  its  best,  careful  abstinence  from 
injury  to  every  living  creature,  man  or  beast,  becomes  an  ideal 
of  life  which,  in  the  Brahmanic  teaching,  ranks  above  the  old 
knightly  ideal .^  This  ideal  of  peace  and  universal  beneficence 
was  further  emphasized  by  Buddhism,  to  which  the  taking  of 
human  life  under  any  conditions  is  a  crime. 

Passing  still  further  east,  we  find  that  Chinese  thinkers,  so 
different  from  Indian  in  other  respects,  agree  with  them  in  their 
attitude  to  warfare.  Yet  Chinese  warfare  itself  was,  at  any  rate 
in  early  times,  thoroughly  barbaric.  Few  prisoners  were  made ; 
the  vanquished  chiefs  were  put  to  death,  while  the  common 
soldiers  were  released  after  an  ear  had  been  cut  off.  The  left 
ears  of  the  slain  were  also  cut  off,  no  doubt  for  purposes  of 
reckoning.^  Captives,  however,  were  at  times  made  slaves  and 
were  also  tortured.  We  find  allusions  to  both  these  practices  in 
the  classical  books,  e.g.  in  the  She-King — 

"  With  our  prisoners  for  the  question  and  our  captive  crowd  wo  return."  * 

Again — 

"  My  sorrowing  heart  is  very  sad, 
I  think  of  my  unfortunate  position. 
The  innocent  people  will  all  be  reduced  to  servitude  with  me."  •• 

1  Manu,  vii.  sec.  90-93.  *  Duncker,  op.  cit.,  107. 

^  Biot,  in  the  Journal  Asiatique,  translated  in  Legge's  Prolegomena  to 
the  She-King,  chap.  iv.  p.  158. 

*  She-King,  Part  II.  Book  I.  Ode  8,  Stanza  6.  On  this  Dr.  Legge  notes  : 
'*  Those  who  would  be  questioned  "  (put  to  the  torture)  "  indicate,  we  may 
suppose,  chiefs  of  the  Heen-yun ;  the  '  crowd  of  captives,'  the  multitude  of 
their  followers." 

*  Part  II.  Book  IV.      Ode  8,   Stanza  3. 


254  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

And  again — 

"  The  engines  of  onfall  and  assault  were  gently  applied 
Against  the  walls  of  Ts'ung,  high  and  great. 
Captives  for  the  question  were  brought  in  one  after  another. 
The  left  ears  (of  the  slain)  were  taken  leisurely."  ^ 

The  classical  books,  however,  more  than  once  represent  the 
superiority  of  peaceful  to  warlike  methods.  The  emperor  or 
prince  who  gives  an  example  of  justice  and  graciousness  is  re- 
presented as  attracting  the  people  to  him,  and  warlike  chiefs  are 
depicted  as  being  influenced  by  an  example  of  goodwill  and 
readiness  to  give  up  a  point.  This  is  brought  out  very  quaintly 
in  such  stories  as  those  of  the  chiefs  of  Joo  and  Juy,  who  had  a 
quarrel  about  a  strip  of  territory,  which  they  went  to  lay  before 
the  lord  of  Chow.  But  "  as  soon  as  they  entered  his  territory, 
they  saw  the  ploughers  readily  yielding  the  furrow,  and  travellers 
yielding  the  path,  to  one  another  "  ;  and  in  fact  every  one  giving 
way  to  every  one  else.  All  this  made  them  ashamed  of  their 
own  quarrel.  They  became  reunited,  and  the  affair  being  noised 
abroad,  more  than  forty  states  tendered  their  submission  to 
Chow. 2  But  in  this  glorification  of  the  virtues  of  an  excellent 
passivity  and  of  conquering  by  the  meek  surrender  of  claims,  we 
come  perilously  near  to  a  thin  excuse  for  mere  cowardice  or 
failure.  The  reader  must  judge  in  which  way  the  following 
story  may  be  interpreted.  When  the  Emperor  Yu  could  not 
conquer  the  rebels  of  Meaou,  he  was  admonished  by  Yih  that 
"  pride  brings  loss,  and  humility  receives  increase."  Moved  by 
the  "  excellent  words,"  he  drew  off  his  army  and  "  set  about 
diffusing  his  accomplishments  and  virtue  more  widely."  The 
better  part  of  valour  had  its  reward.  "  In  seventy  days  the 
Prince  of  Meaou  came  to  make  his  submission."  One  would 
like  to  know  the  precise  nature  of  the  "  submission."  ^ 

In  the  teaching  of  Mencius,  however,  there  is  no  doubt  at  all 
about  the  strenuous  opposition  to  war  and  militarism.  The 
protests  of  this  great  teacher  against  the  use  of  force  were 
repeated  and  strenuous.  They  were  based  upon  the  purest  of 
humanitarian  principles  and  applied  with  great  psychological 
insight.  When  Mencius  saw  King  Seuen  much  touched  by  the 
frightened  appearance  of  an  ox  being  led  to  the  sacrifice  and 
ordering  that  a  sheep  should  be  substituted  for  it,  he  told  him 

1  Part  III.  Book  I.  Ode  7,  Stanza  8.  On  this  Dr.  Legge  notes  :  "  When 
prisoners  refused  to  submit,  they  were  put  to  death  and  their  left  ears 
taken  off." 

2  She-King,  vol.  it.  p.  441,  note. 

^  Shoo-King,  part  ii.  book  ii.,  iii.  21. 


RELATIONS   BETWEEN  COMMUNITIES         255 

very  justly  that  it  was  because  "  you  saw  the  oxen  and  had  not 
seen  the  sheep."  A  superior  man,  he  went  on,  cannot  eat  the 
animals  whose  dying  cries  he  has  heard,  and  so  he  keeps  away 
from  his  cook-room.  Mencius  had  thus  grasped  the  fundamental 
fact  of  the  part  played  by  want  of  imagination  in  maintaining 
warfare.  He  proceeds  to  point  out  that  here  "  is  kindness 
sufficient  to  reach  to  animals,  and  no  benefits  are  extended  from 
it  to  the  people."  ^  The  king  should  begin,  he  says,  with  rever- 
ence to  age  and  kindness  to  youth  in  his  own  family,  and  the 
example  would  spread  and  tend  to  humanize  the  people.  In- 
stead of  doing  this  the  king  prepares  for  war.  Does  this  give 
him  pleasure  ?  The  king  admits  that  it  does  not,  but  says  he 
does  it  to  "  seek  for  what  I  greatly  desire."  Mencius  asks  for 
what  reason  he  desires  it — for  lack  of  food,  clothing  or  sounds  ? 
No;  it  is  for  none  of  these.  "You  wish  to  enlarge  your 
territories  ...  to  rule  the  middle  kingdom  and  to  attract  to 
you  the  barbarous  tribes  that  surround  it,  but  to  do  what  you  do 
to  seek  for  what  you  desire  is  like  climbing  a  tree  to  seek  for 
fish."  In  fact,  it  is  worse,  for  it  is  calamitous.  "  Now,  if  your 
Majesty  will  institute  a  government  whose  action  should  all 
be  benevolent,  this  would  cause  all  the  officers  in  the  empire  to 
wish  to  stand  in  your  Majesty's  court,  and  the  farmers  all  to 
wish  to  plough  in  your  Majesty's  fields,  and  the  merchants  both 
travelling  and  stationary,  all  to  wish  to  store  their  goods  in  your 
Majesty's  market-places  .  .  .  and  all  throughout  the  empire 
who  feel  aggrieved  by  their  rulers  to  wish  to  come  and  complain 
to  your  Majesty."  In  short,  Mencius'  prescription  for  making 
one's  self  a  universal  monarch  was  to  prove  one's  self  the  best 
and  most  just  monarch. ^  He  would  disallow  the  annexation  of 
conquered  territory  except  by  the  will  of  the  conquered  people. 
When  King  Seuen  had  conquered  Yen,  he  asked  Mencius  if  he 
should  take  possession  of  it.  Mencius  replied  that,  if  the  people 
of  Yen  would  be  pleased  with  his  doing  so,  let  him  do  it ;  other- 
wise not.'  War  itself  Mencius  denounces  as  a  crime,  and  those 
who  make  war  as  worthy  of  death  and  worse.  Confucius,  he  said, 
would  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  ministers  of  oppressive 
princes;  "  how  much  more  would  he  have  rejected  those  who 
are  vehement  to  fight  for  their  prince.  When  contentions  about 
territory  are  the  ground  on  which  they  fight,  they  slaughter 
men  until  the  fields  are  filled  with  them  .  .  .  this  is  what  is 
called  leading  on  the  land  to  devour  human  flesh."  Death,  he 
says,  is  not  enough  for  such  a  crime,  and  those  who  are  skilful  to 

1  Mencius,  Book  I.  part  i.  chap.  vii.  par.  8-10. 

9  Book  I.  part  i.  chap.  vii.  *  Book  I.  part  ii.  chap  x. 


256  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

fight  should  sufftt  the  highest  punishment.  Again,  "  to  employ 
an  uninstructed  people  in  war  may  be  said  to  be  destroying  tht> 
people.  .  .  .  Though  by  a  single  battle  you  should  subdue  Tse 
and  get  possession  of  Nan-yan,  the  thing  ought  not  to  be  done."  ^ 
The  mere  transfer  of  territory  is  wrong,  but  the  bloodshed  by 
which  it  is  achieved  is  worse.  "  If  it  were  merely  taking  the  place 
from  the  one  state  to  give  it  to  the  other,  a  benevolent  man 
would  not  do  it;  how  much  less  will  he  do  so  when  the  end 
is  to  be  sought  by  the  slaughter  of  men."  ^  As  to  ministers  who 
advise  a  warlike  policy  with  a  view  to  conquest,  they  might  be 
tolerated  in  these  degenerate  days,  but  in  the  good  old  times 
they  would  have  been  called  robbers  of  the  people.  Mencius 
said :  "  Those  who  nowadays  serve  their  sovereigns,  say, 
'  We  can  for  our  sovereign  enlarge  the  limits  of  the  cultivated 
ground  and  fill  his  treasuries  and  arsenals.'  Such  persons  are 
nowadays  called  '  Good  IMinisters,'  but  anciently  they  were 
called  '  Robbers  of  the  People.'  "  ^  The  generals  Mencius 
involved  in  one  condemnation  with  the  warlike  ministers. 
"  There  are  men  who  say,  '  I  am  skilful  at  marshalling  troops; 
I  am  skilful  at  conducting  a  battle.'  They  are  great  criminals."  ^ 
The  warlike  Western  world  has  scarcely  known  a  more  vigorous 
and  sweeping  protest  against  warfare  and  everything  connected 
with  it  and  every  principle  upon  which  it  is  based.  And  if  it  is 
said  that  the  Chinese  Empire,  under  the  inspiration  of  such 
teaching,  has  ceased  to  be  able  adequately  to  defend  itself 
against  barbarians,  it  should  also  be  remembered  that,  under  the 
Chinese  system,  a  population  larger  than  that  of  Europe  live  in 
permanent  peace  with  one  another,  and  that  they  have,  in  a 
sense,  as  their  own  religious  books  recommend,  absorbed  those 
who  have  conquered  them  by  peaceful  arts. 

7.  From  these  ideals  of  peace  we  return  to  the  fighting  nations 
of  the  Western  world.  In  Homeric  Greece  wars  were  often 
little  more  than  raids  for  women  and  cattle  lifting,  or  they  were 
reprisals  for  similar  raids  by  a  hostile  clan.  Piracy  was  held  to 
be  improper  and  displeasing  to  the  gods,  but  not  shameful,  and 
Thucydides  remarks  that  to  ask  a  stranger  whether  he  was  a 
pirate  was  apparently  not  considered  an  act  of  discourtesy.^  In 
a  captured  town  the  normal  fate  of  the  men  was  to  be  slain,  and 
of  the  women  to  be  carried  off  as  bond  slaves.  Achilles  boasts 
of  the  pillage  of  which  he  has  been  guilty.^       Quarter  may  be 

^  Book  IV.  part  i.  chap.  xiv. ;   Book  VI.  part  ii.  chap.  viii. 

-  ib.,  sec.  8.  ^  Book  VI.  part  ii.  chap.  ix. 

*  Book  VII.  part  ii.  chap.  iv.  -  Thucyd.,  i.  5, 

«  Iliad,  IX.  325,  etc. 


RELATIONS  BETWEEN  COMMUNITIES  257 

refused  at  will.  Before  the  death  of  Patroclus  Achilles  often 
accepted  ransom,  but  after  it  he  declares  his  intention  of  refusing 
all  quarter  and  rejects  Lycaon's  prayers  for  his  life.  The  corpse 
of  the  dead  is  insulted ;  Hector  is  dragged  at  the  chariot  wheels, 
and  twelve  youths  are  sacrificed  to  the  spirit  of  Patroclus,  Even 
in  the  historical  period  prisoners  of  war  were  unconditionally 
the  property  of  the  conqueror.^  Custom  enjoined  quarter,-  but 
prisoners  were  often  killed.^  Generally  prisoners  were  held  for 
exchange  or  ransom,*  or  sold  as  slaves.  The  booty  was  divided, 
and  a  tithe  was  given  to  the  gods.  In  the  case  of  the  Medising 
cities  the  patriot  Greeks  took  oath  to  devote  a  tithe  of  their  goods 
to  Delphi.  But  generally  the  terms  obtained  by  a  surrendered 
city  depended  upon  the  Homologia.^  When  a  town  was  stormed 
all  the  males  were  often  put  to  the  sword  and  the  women  and 
children  enslaved.^  At  the  capture  of  Plataea  the  Spartans  put 
all  the  prisoners  to  death  after  a  judicial  trial,  and  the  Athenians 
were  no  better.  On  the  suppression  of  the  revolt  of  Chios  all  the 
men  were  slain  and  the  women  and  children  enslaved.  The  same 
fate  befell  Melos,'  while  at  Mende  the  generals  intervened  to 
prevent  the  massacre.^  At  times  the  dead  were  mutilated,®  and 
the  same  fate  might  even  befall  the  Living.^^'  The  massacres  did 
not  always  go  vv^ithout  a  protest.  In  the  famous  case  of  Mitylene, 
the  destruction  of  the  entire  city,  after  having  been  voted  by  the 
assembly,  was  rescinded  by  the  redoubled  efforts  of  the  friends 
of  the  Mityleneans,  who,  by  the  aid  of  a  specially  swift  trireme, 
overtook  the  first  order  in  time  to  prevent  its  execution,  so  that 
only  1000  Mityleneans  were  put  to  death. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  Greeks  were  perhaps  the  first  people 
to  develop  something  Hke  a  regular  international  law.  Feuds 
between  neighbours  were  replaced  by  S'pondce,  which  passed 
ultimately  into  alliances,  generally  of  a  defensive  character,  and 

^  Busolt,  Handbuch  der  klassischen  Altertumswissenachaft,  Bd.  iv.  p.  59, 
Aristotle,  Politics,  i.  2-6,  1255a. 

2  Thucyd,  iii.  58,  66,  67.  The  surrendered  Plataeans  plead  that  "  the 
custom  of  Hellas  does  not  allow  the  suppliant  to  be  put  to  death."  The 
plea,  however,  was  not  allowed. 

3  Thucyd.,  i.  30 ;  ii.  67 ;  iii.  32.  Xenophon,  Hellenics,  II.  i.  32.  Plutarch, 
Lysander  (tr.  Langhorne),  p.  311. 

*  Thucyd.,  ii.  103  ;   iv.  69 ;   v.  3.     Herodt.,  i.  89. 

^  In  the  case  of  Potidsea,  the  men  were  allowed  to  leave  the  city  with 
one  garment,  the  women  with  two.  The  Athenians  blamed  the  general 
for  concluding  the  agreement  instead  of  forcing  a  surrender  at  discretion 
(Thucyd.,  ii.  70). 

«  Iliad,  IX.  590.     Thucyd.,  iii.  28;  v.  3,  32,  116. 

'  Thucyd.,  v.  116.  »  Thucyd.,  iv.  130. 

*  Xenophon,  Anabasis,  iii.  4. 
-"  Xenophon,  Hellenics,  ii.  1 

S 


258  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

for  a  specified  number  of  years.^  But,  further  than  this,  they 
developed  a  regular  system  of  arbitration.  Periander  of  Corinth 
arbitrated  between  Athens  and  Mitylene  as  to  the  possession  of 
Sigeum.  In  the  sixth  century  Sparta  arbitrated  between  Athens 
and  Megara,  and  appeals  to  Delphi  were  not  uncommon .^  Some- 
times states  were  pledged  by  oath  or  by  the  deposit  of  a  sum 
of  money  to  abide  by  arbitration,  but  in  other  cases  the  loyal 
acceptance  of  the  decision  was  a  matter  of  goodwill,  and  was 
sometimes  refused,  as  in  the  case  of  Thebes  ^  and  of  Elis.* 

Furthermore,  the  instances  of  severity  quoted  above  represent 
the  darkest  side  of  Greek  warfare.  There  was  a  better  spirit 
at  work  which  recognized  certain  common  laws  of  the  Hellenes, 
"  unwritten  laws  "  prescribing  a  measure  of  justice  in  inter-state 
deahngs,  and  of  moderation  and  humanity  to  the  vanquished. 
The  conquered  Plataeans  appeal,  though  they  appeal  in  vain, 
to  the  custom  of  Hellas,  which  does  not  allow  supphants  to  be 
put  to  death  .^  The  dealings  of  the  Athenians  with  Melos  are 
scathingly  exposed  by  Thucydides  by  the  absolute  contempt  of 
right  which  he  puts  into  the  mouths  of  the  apologists  for  Athens, 
and  the  incident  is  dramatically  set  immediately  before  the 
narrative  of  the  Syracusan  expedition,  in  wliich  the  impieties  of 
Athenian  aggression  were  heavily  punished.  Mr.  Murray  con- 
siders that  the  same  incident  was  the  immediate  occasion  of 
Euripides'  moving  representation  of  the  sufferings  of  the  "  Trojan 
Women  "  played  in  the  following  year.  Further,  the  whole 
principle  of  Greek  warfare  was  challenged  by  the  philosophers. 
The  enslavement  of  Greek  prisoners,  the  stripping  of  the  slain, 
the  erection  of  trophies  in  temples,  the  ravaging  of  the  land 
(apart  from  carrying  off  the  crop  of  the  season)  and  the  burning 
of  houses  are  all  condemned  by  Plato.  The  refusal  of  quarter  is 
not  expUcitly  mentioned,  from  which  we  may  infer  that  at  least 
fts  a  matter  of  principle  this  was  sufficiently  recognized  as  a 
wrong  in  the  fourth  century.  On  the  other  hand,  this  milder 
practice  is  only  insisted  on  in  wars  between  Greek  and  Greek. 
These  should  be  conducted  as  civil  strife  is  at  present — that  is  to 
say,  with  the  mitigations  specified,  while  in  future,  Greeks  should 
behave  to  barbarians  as  they  now  do  to  one  another.^  Nor  was 
Plato  alone  in  his  attitude.  Aristotle,  while  recording  that  the 
law  "  is  an  agreement  wherein  they  say  that  what  is  conquered  in 

1  Busolt,  op.  cit.,  p.  54.  2  Thucyd.,  i.  28.  ^  Herodt.,  vi.  108. 

'  Thucyd.,  v.  31.  *  Thucyd.,  iii.  58. 

*  Observe,  however,  that  this  summary  of  the  argument  is  put  into  the 
mouth  of  Glaucon,  not  of  Socrates.  Possibly  Plato  would  have  been 
willing  to  preach  a  more  comprehensive  humanity,  but  feared  to  push  the 
argument  too  far  {Republic,  v.  4G9-471). 


RELATIONS   BETWEEN  COMMUNITIES  259 

war  is  the  property  of  the  conqueror,"  records  that  many  jurists 
bring  a  charge  as  it  were  of  illegahty  against  this  law,  and  both 
jurists  and  philosophers  are  divided  on  the  point .^  Aristotle 
himself  points  out  that  the  origin  of  a  war  may  not  be  just,  and 
"  no  one  would  say  that  he  is  a  slave  who  does  not  deserve  to  be 
a  slave,  for  if  so  those  who  are  held  noblest  might  be  slaves  and 
sons  of  slaves  if  they  happened  to  be  captured  and  sold."  The 
truth  is  that  the  Greeks  "  do  not  mean  to  call  themselves  slaves, 
but  the  barbarians."  The  solution  is  that  there  are  natural 
slaves,  who  are  slaves  everywhere.  In  other  words,  the  bar- 
barian is  ordained  by  nature  as  slave  to  the  Hellene,  but  the 
Hellenes  should  be  free.^  In  this  argument  Aristotle  clearly 
conceives  himself  to  be  merely  stating  exphcitly  and  consistently 
the  principle  wliich  is  confusedly  held  in  the  uninstructed  thought 
of  the  period.  He  thus  represents  the  stage  which  the  best 
Greek  etliics  really  attained  in  this  direction — an  acceptance  of  a 
higher  rule  of  warfare  enjoining  respect  for  the  persons  of  the 
conquered  (Plato's  argument  would  add  for  their  property  as  well) 
within  the  limits  of  Hellas.^  Outside  these  limits  the  old  rules 
of  barbaric  warfare  persist  unaltered. 

At  Rome  a  defeated?-  enemy  was  in  principle  rightless.  The 
very  type  and  exemplar  of  property  is  that  which  is  captured 
from  an  enemy.  Stranger  and  enemy  are  identical  terms.  The 
stranger  can  have  no  rights  except  through  the  protection  of  a 
citizen,  and  even  apart  from  war  and  hostility  it  is  a  juristic 
jnaxim  that  a  member  of  a  foreign  community  not  bound  to 
Rome  by  any  treaty  might  be  lawfully  enslaved ;  in  other  words, 
all  legal  rights  are  confined  to  citizens  and  those  to  whom  their 
protection  is  extended,  and  the  ahen,  and  therefore  still  more  the 
captured  foeman,  is  at  the  disposal  of  the  conqueror.  In  point  of 
fact  the  conquered  were  often  put  to  death  in  great  numbers,  for 
example,  the  population  of  Vacca  by  MeteUus  in  the  Jugurthine 
war.*  The  same  fate  befell  many  towns  of  Gaul  under  the  com- 
paratively clement  Julius  Csesar.  The  taking  of  Hurgis  in  Spain 
was  succeeded  by  a  general  massacre  in  which  neither  women  nor 
children  were  spared.^  Tacitus,  describing  the  ravaging  of  the 
Marsi  by  Germanicus,  says  that  neither  sex  nor  age  were  grounds 

^  TOVTO  S^  rh  S'lKaiov  iroWol  twv  iy  rois  vSfiois  &crtrep  ^TjTopa  ypdcpoyrai  Trapav6/itDV 
.  .  .  Kol  TOis  fxiv  ovrci)  So/cet  toIj  5'  eKeiyais,  koI  twv  ao(p<jiv  (Aristotle,  Politics, 
i.,  vi.  2). 

2  ih.,  pars.  4-6. 

3  The  principle  found  practical  expression  in  the  oath  of  the  Delphian 
Amphictyony  not  to  destroy  any  allied  state,  nor  to  cut  oS  its  water  in  war 
or  peace  (Busolt,  p.  65). 

*  Letourneau,  La  Guerre,  p.  466. 

*  Grotins,  iii.  4,  9,  quoting  Appian. 


260  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

of  mercy .^  The  good  Emperor  Titus  massacred  or  sold  as  slaves 
all  the  captives  at  the  taking  of  Jerusalem.^ 

But  these  are  extreme  cases.  There  is  no  reason  to  doubt 
that  the  general  feeling  of  the  Homan  world  condemned  excesses 
of  barbarity.  Livy  makes  Camillus  say  that  his  soldiers  direct 
their  arms  not  against  that  age  which  is  spared  even  in  the 
capture  of  a  town,  but  against  armed  men.^  The  slaughter  of 
non-combatants,  old  men,  women  and  children,  is  frequently 
spoken  of  in  terms  of  condemnation,  even  of  horror,*  and  Livy's 
words,  "  jure  belli  in  armatos  repugnantesqne  csedes,"  ^  imply 
the  full  limitation  of  the  right  of  killing  to  active  combatants 
as  understood  in  modern  warfare.  The  violation  of  women,  if 
frequently  allowed,  was  as  frequently  condemned,  and  measures 
were  by  some  generals  taken  to  prevent  it.**  Upon  the  whole, 
personal  barbarity,  indiscriminate  massacre,  the  refusal  of 
quarter,  the  violation  of  women,  and  the  slaying  of  captives, 
though  practised  in  times  of  excitement  or  loose  discipline,  are 
condemned  by  the  better  minds  as  contrary  to  the  jus  belli.'' 
On  the  other  hand,  the  enslavement  of  prisoners,  if  desired,  and 
the  confiscation  of  property  were  admitted  to  be  regular.® 

The  importation  of  slaves  into  Italy  on  a  large  scale,  owing  to 
war  and  the  slave  trade,  revolutionized  the  Roman  economic 
system,  and  led  thereby  to  the  fall  of  the  Republic.  But, 
instead  of  being  enslaved,  the  conquered  people  might  become 
tributar}^ — dediticii.  The  formula  in  this  case  expresses  the 
absoluteness  of  surrender  exacted  by  an  ancient  conqueror  :  "I 
give  my  person,  my  town,  my  land,  the  water  which  runs  there, 
my  boundary  gods,  my  temples,  my  movables,  all  the  things 

^  Grotius,  iii.  chap.  iv.  section  9,  and  authorities  there  cited,  especially 
the  cynical  remark  of  Horace  which  sums  up  the  whole  matter :  "  Venders 
cum  possis  captivum  occidere  noli  "  (Ep.  xvi.  69). 

'  Letoumeau,  La  Guerre,  p.  467,  quoting  Josephus,  Bell.  Jud.,  Book  VX. 
chap.  xlv. 

^  Livy,  V.  27,  and  other  passages  quoted  in  Grotius,  iii.  11. 

'  Instances,  Greek  and  Latin,  in  Grotius,  loc.  cit. 

*  Livy,  xxviii.  23.  Grotius,  ih.  Grotius  further  cites  Sallust  (Jugur- 
thine  War,  chap,  xcvi.)  for  a  condemnation  of  the  slaughter  of  men  after 
surrender  as  contra  jus  belli.  Elsewhere  (par.  6)  he  quotes  Cicero  as  saying 
that  captives  who  have  not  shown  cruelty  should  be  spared,  and  Seneca  as 
insisting  that  an  enemy  should  be  set  free,  and  even  held  in  honour,  if  ha 
has  fought  for  honourable  reasons. 

^  e.  g.  Marcellus  and  Scipio.     Grotius,  Book  III.  chap.  iv.  par.  19. 

'  An  exception  must  be  admitted  in  the  case  of  the  vanquished  king  or 
general,  who  might  be,  and  not  infrequently  was,  put  to  death  in  the 
Mamertine  prison  before  the  sacrifice  to  Capitoline  Jupiter  was  proceeded 
with  (Grotius,  iii.  11,  1). 

*  See  Livy,  cited  in  Grotius,  iii.  6,  1  :  "  Esse  qusedam  belli  jura  quje 
ut  facero  ita  pati  sit  fas  :  sata  exuri,  dirui  tecta  :  prsedas  hominum 
pocoruuique  agi." 


RELATIONS   BETWEEN  COMMUNITIES  2G1 

which  belong  to  the  gods,  to  the  Roman  people."  ^  The  people 
who  surrendered  on  these  terms  retained  their  lands  on  payment 
of  tribute  and  accepted  a  Roman  governor.  They  had  in 
strictness  no  rights  as  against  the  Roman  Government,  and 
whatever  liberties  were  accorded  to  them  were  reversible  at  wiU.^ 
But  a  more  liberal  system  grew  up  as  the  Roman  conquests  were 
extended.  In  some  cases  a  community  was  allowed  to  retain 
its  own  government  while  brought  under  the  political  hegemony 
of  Rome  as  an  ally,  with  rights  secured  by  fosdus,  A  consider- 
able measure  of  local  self-government  was  left  to  the  civilized 
communities  fully  incorporated  in  the  Empire,  and  the  spread 
of  Roman  civihzation  was  regularly  marked  by  the  extension  of 
municipal  privileges.  Further,  civic  rights  were  extended  to 
the  subjects  of  Rome,  first  in  the  form  of  the  jus  Latinutn,  which 
from  early  days  had  conferred  the  principal  civil  rights  on  in- 
habitants of  the  cities  of  Latium,  and  finally,  as  civihzed  order 
advanced,  of  the  full  Roman  franchise,  which,  though  its  pohtical 
value  disappeared  with  the  fall  of  the  Republic,  placed  subjects 
and  masters  on  equal  terms  before  the  law.  The  boast  of  Virgil 
that  Rome  spared  the  submissive  and  warred  do^Ti  the  proud 
was  not  wholly  without  justification,  and  the  Roman  Empire 
gradually  approached  the  ideal  of  a  world  state,  in  which  dis- 
tinctions of  nationality  carried  no  difference  of  privilege,  but 
citizenship  was  extended  to  all  free  men.  There  was  in  this  a 
certain  approach  to  universahsm  which  might  hold  ^nthin  it 
some  promise,  if  not  of  an  aboHtion  of  war,  at  any  rate  of  a 
reconstitution  of  its  character. 

8.  We  have  now  to  consider  the  bearing  of  universalism,  as 
represented  by  the  world  religions,  upon  the  moralities  of  war. 
In  the  teaching  of  the  Koran  it  appears  to  be  assumed  that 
true  believers  will  live  at  peace,  while  they  will  conquer  and 
subdue  the  unbeHever.  "  If  the  two  parties  of  behevers  quarrel, 
then  make  peace  between  them ;  and  if  one  of  the  twain  outrages 
the  other,  then  fight  the  party  that  has  committed  the  outrage 
until  it  return  to  God's  bidding ;  and  if  it  do  return,  then  make 
peace  between  them  with  equity  and  be  just.  Verily  God  loves 
the  just.  The  believers  are  but  brothers,  so  make  peace  between 
your  two  brethren  and  fear  God,  haply  ye  may  obtain  mercy."  ^ 
No  Moslem  captive  miglit  be  enslaved.*     Very  different  was  the 

^  Letoumeau,  p.  468. 

*  Mommsen,  Hist,  of  Rome,  Book  IV.  chap.  vii. 

^  Koran,  Sacred  Books  of  the  East,  vol.  ix.  chap.  xhx. 

*  Grotius,  iii.  7,  ix.  2. 


262  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

attitude  to  unbelievers.  "  And  when  ye  meet  those  who  mis- 
believe, then  striking  off  heads  until  ye  have  massacred  them, 
and  bind  fast  the  bonds."  Theoretically,  in  fact,  there  is  per- 
petual war  with  all  countries  which  have  not  embraced  Islam. 
But  there  are  degrees.  No  compromise  was  possible  with 
Arabian  idolaters  or  with  apostates.  Non- Arabian  idolaters 
might  be  reduced  to  slavery,  and,  generally  speaking,  captives 
might  be  slain,  since  the  Prophet  did  so,  and  slapng  them 
terminates  wickedness,  but  if  a  captive  became  a  Moslem  on  the 
battlefield,  he  might  not  be  put  to  death,  but  in  this  case  he  might 
still  be  enslaved,  as  the  reason  for  enslaving  him,  that  is  to  say, 
securing  his  person,  came  into  operation  before  the  change  of 
faith.  Slavery,  then,  was  the  second  alternative,  and  beyond 
this  there  was  the  milder  possibility  that  the  captive  might  be 
released  as  a  Zimmi — that  is  to  say,  as  a  non-Moslem  subject, 
liable  to  tribute.  In  any  case  a  woman  was  not  to  be  slain  in 
war.  Mohammedan  teacliing,  then,  rests  on  the  distinction 
between  Moslem  and  non -Moslem.  Within  the  Moslem  world  it 
looks  forward  to  universal  peace  and  forbids  the  enslavement  of 
the  captive.  Outside  that  world  it  allows  not  only  enslavement, 
but  the  refusal  of  quarter. 

The  character  and  effects  of  Christian  teaching  are  somewhat 
complex.  While  the  Gospels  pronounced  definitely  against 
violence  in  any  shape  or  form,  the  Church  accommodated  her 
teaching  to  the  practice  of  a  warhke  age,  and  Augustine  up- 
holds the  soldier's  profession,  and  endeavours  to  lay  down  the 
conditions  upon  which  war  is  justified.  "  To  wage  war  is  not  a 
crime,  but  to  wage  war  for  the  sake  of  booty."  ^  There  is  no 
moral  distinction  between  open  fighting  and  ambuscade  in  a 
just  war,  "  but  just  wars  are  commonly  defined  as  those  which 
avenge  injuries,  if  any  race  or  state  which  is  to  be  attacked  in 
war  has  either  neglected  to  punish  wrongs  done  by  its  own 
citizens  or  to  retrieve  what  has  been  wrongfully  carried  off."  - 
Again,  the  kind  of  war  ordained  by  God  is  just.  Ambrose, 
strongly  denouncing  the  principle  of  non-resistance,  declares 
that  he  who  does  not  defend  a  friend  is  as  bad  as  the  aggressor.^ 
On  the  other  hand,  malice,  cruelty  and  vengeance,  the  implac- 
able spirit,  savagery  in  insurrection  {feritas  rebellandi)  and  the 
lust  of  dominion  are  condemned  by  Augustine.*  The  purport 
of  these  distinctions,  for  what  they  are  worth,  is  to  condemn 

^  Serm.  xix.  Quoted  by  Gratian,  Corpus  Juris,  893,  but  apparently  of 
doubtful  authenticity. 

2  Corpus  Juris,  894.  Reading  "  si  qua  gens  vel  civitas  quae  belle  petenda 
est." 

'  ib.,  898.  *  Contra  Maniehseos,  Corpus  Juris,  892. 


RELATIONS  BETWEEN  COMMUNITIES  263 

aggression  and  restrict  warfare  to  the  defensive.  Private  war- 
fare, moreover,  was  persistently  combated  by  the  Church,^  and 
with  regard  to  the  rules  of  warfare  generally,  the  canons  dealing 
with  the  treatment  of  the  enemy  in  person  or  property  mark  a 
distinct  advance  in  European  custom.  To  enslave  a  fellow- 
Christian  or  to  put  him  to  death,  except  in  the  actual  fighting, 
was  forbidden  from  an  early  date,^  and  Augustine  lays  down, 
though  not  in  very  forcible  language,  the  broad  principle  of  later 
warfare,  that  the  slaughter  of  the  enemy  is  to  be  limited  by 
necessity  (liostem  pugnantem  necessitas  deprimat  non  voluntas).^ 
From  this  it  follows  that  the  lives  of  non-combatants,  as  weU  as 
captives,  should  be  spared.  Women  and  children  are  therefore 
secured  from  violence.  Priests  naturally  enjoyed  the  same 
privilege,  and  it  was  extended  by  the  Canon  Law  to  husband- 
men and  tradesmen.*  Even  as  to  the  practice  of  ransom,  which 
grew  up  when  quarter  came  to  be  allowed,  the  Canon  Law  had 
its  doubts,  to  be  overcome  by  a  lawyer's  quibble.  "  A  captive's 
goods  are  unjustly  extorted  from  him,  but  are  justly  proffered 
to  redeem  his  life,"  is  the  solution  proposed  by  Gratian;^  a 
solution  which  in  practice  justifies  ransom,  and  in  theory  must 
be  taken  to  admit  that  the  captive's  life  is  forfeit. 

How  far  these  relatively  enlightened  principles  were  from 
restraining  the  barbarity  of  the  Middle  Ages  every  one  knows. 
From  the  decline  of  the  Western  Empire  to  the  Peace  of  West- 
phalia the  internal  wars  of  Western  Europe  present  a  series  of 
barbarities  and  horrors  which  fuUy  equal  those  of  the  Greek 
or  the  Itahan  peoples,  and  Grotius,  in  his  search  for  instances 
of  magnanimity,  generosity  and  the  reprobation  of  methods  of 
savagery,  more  often  quotes  Greek  or  Roman  generals  than 
those  of  the  Middle  Ages  or  of  his  own  time.     Yet  the  idea  of 

1  According  to  Westermarck,  however,  with  comparatively  httle  success 
{Moral  Ideas,  p.  356  seq.). 

^  Grotiiis,  loc.  cit.,  quoting  Gregoras,  who  lays  it  down  as  a  rule  holding 
among  Christians,  ^la  tV  Trjs  -nianus  ravTOTi]Ta,  recognized  not  only  among 
Romans  and  Thessalonians,  but  among  Illyrians,  Triballi,  and  Bulgarians, 
TO.  fiev  TTpdyixaTa  jxava  ffKvXeveiv  ra  5e  crdiixara  jri)  avSpairoSi^((rdai,  /xrjSi  cpoveveiv 
e|a>  rfjy  iroXe/J-iKris  TrapaTci^eus  /iT/SeVa. 

'  Augustine,  Ep.  207.     C.  J.,  892. 

*  Grotius,  iii.  11,  12.  Hall  (A  Treatise  on  International  Law,  p.  397) 
refers  to  the  Canon  de  Treuga  {Decret.  Oreg.,  p.  203,  lib.  i..  Tit.  xxxiv. 
cap.  2),  which  laid  down  that  monks,  merchants,  husbandmen  and  their 
animals,  travellers,  etc.,  are  not  to  be  killed.  Hall  also  cites  Franciscus  a 
Victoria  as  maintaining  "  quod  etiam  in  bello  contra  Turcos  non  licet  inter- 
ficere  infantes.  Imo  nee  feminas  inter  infideles."  The  tradition  lingered 
long  that  a  garrison  which  held  out  d  Voutrance  might  lawfully  be  massacred. 
This  is  discussed  by  Grotius,  iii.  11,  16,  etc.     See  Hall,  400. 

^  Grat.,  Corpus  Juris,  896. 


264  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

chivalry — the  cult  of  the  very  parfait  gentil  knight,  sworn  to 
succour  the  oppressed,  to  defend  the  women  and  children,  and 
to  avoid  all  unknightly  deeds — is  a  true  product  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  and  its  appearance  side  by  side  with  the  barbarities  of 
actual  warfare  is  characteristic  of  the  period.  In  the  genera- 
tions before  Grotius'  own  time  and  during  his  hfe  the  savagery 
of  warfare  had  gathered  itself  for  a  supreme  effort,  and  under 
the  guiding  genius  of  an  Alva  and  a  TUly  had  shown  what  men 
could  do  to  one  another.  But  "vvith  the  Peace  of  Westphalia 
the  period  of  the  rehgious  wars  came  to  an  end.  Men  were 
sickened  with  horrors,  and  were  the  more  ready  to  listen  to 
those  who,  like  Grotius,  had  a  rule  to  propound  whereby  even 
in  war  men  might  be  saved  from  becoming  fiends.  The  devas- 
tation of  the  Palatinate,  wliich  haif-a-century  earlier  would 
have  passed  unnoticed  as  an  ordinary  incident  of  war,  coming 
in  1689,  caused  a  thrill  of  horror  in  Europe,  and  from  that  time 
onwards  the  practice  of  war  underwent  a  slow  and  insufficient, 
but  stiU  a  real  amendment. 

9.  The  principle  to  which  Grotius  appealed  was  the  Law  of 
Nature,  wliich,  however  fictitious  in  the  form  in  which  it  was 
conceived  by  him  and  his  contemporaries,  expressed  the  pro- 
found ethical  truth  that  the  rights  and  duties  of  men  are  not 
circumscribed  by  the  Hmitations  of  positive  law  or  of  revelation, 
but  rest  upon  certain  universal  attributes  of  humanity.  But 
this  principle  was  pregnant  with  great  consequences.  By  rest- 
ing rights  and  duties  on  human  nature  as  such,  it  gets  below 
the  distinction  of  compatriot  and  foreigner  and  destroys  the 
basis  of  group-morality.  Once  grant  that  an  enemy  does  not 
cease  to  be  a  man,  to  whom  as  a  man  certain  primary  duties 
are  owing,  and  we  have  a  principle  which  undermines  the  whole 
structure  of  the  earher  ethics  of  warfare.  As  a  human  being 
possessed  of  human  rights,  the  enemy  comes  under  the  ordinary 
civihzed  conceptions  of  justice.  He  cannot  fairly  be  punished 
for  the  delinquencies  of  his  nation.  Grant,  what  every  belligerent 
assumes,  that  his  own  cause  is  just  and  tha,t  of  the  opponent 
indefensible,  grant  that  this  is  proved  to  the  full  satisfaction  of 
the  military  conscience  by  the  verdict  of  the  god  of  battles,  still 
it  is  only  the  hostile  government  that  is  in  fault.  The  citizen 
of  the  conquered  country,  even  the  soldier  of  the  beaten  army, 
is  not  in  fault.  He  has  merely  done  his  duty  as  a  patriot,  and 
to  make  him  suffer  either  in  person  or  property  for  the  delin- 
quencies of  liis  government  would  be  to  apply  the  barbaric 
principle  of  collective  responsibihty.     The  c.istom  of  nationB, 


RELATIONS  BETWEEN  COMMUNITIES  265 

and  in  recent  times  explicit  Conventions,  especially  the  Geneva 
Convention  of  1864  and  the  HagU6  Conventions  of  1899  and 
1907/  have  built  up  a.n  extensive  theoretical  code  for  the  pro- 
tection of  individuals.  The  employment  of  poison,  killing  by 
treachery,  the  refusal  of  quarter,  the  use  of  weapons  "  of  a  nature 
to  cause  superfluous  injury,"  to  compel  people  to  serve  against 
their  own  country  and  to  destroy  or  seize  property  unless  it 
"  be  imperatively  demanded  by  the  necessities  of  war,"  are 
things  forbidden  by  the  Hague  Convention  of  1907,  art.  23.  The 
bombardment  of  undefended  places  is  forbidden  by  art.  25, 
pillage  by  arts.  28  and  47,  collective  penalties,  pecuniary  or 
other,  for  the  acts  of  individuals  by  art.  50.  Art.  46  stipulates 
that  "  Family  honour  and  rights,  the  lives  of  individuals  and 
private  property,  as  well  as  religious  convictions  and  liberty  of 
worship,  must  be  respected.  Private  property  cannot  be  con- 
fiscated," money  and  requisitions  in  kind  can  only  be  levied  for 
purposes  of  administration  or  for  mihtary  necessities  (arts.  48 
and  52).  The  treatment  of  prisoners  and  the  wounded  is  elabor- 
ately safeguarded.  If  much  of  this  reads  like  a  satire  on  the 
actualities  of  modern  warfare  it  is  due  to  two  causes.  In  the 
first  place,  there  is  no  authority  whatever  but  the  goodwill  of 
the  authorities  or  the  fear  of  reprisals  ^  to  enforce  the  code .  In  the 
second  place,  mihtary  necessity  is  a  cloak  covering  a  multitude  of 
sins.  Thus,  it  is  illegal  to  destroy  private  property,  but  military 
necessity  may  require  and  justify  the  devastation  of  an  entire 
country.'  In  practice  it  is  to  be  feared  that  modern  war  inflicts 
no  less  suffering  on  the  general  population  wliile  it  lasts  than 
the  warfare  of  old  days.  But  this  is  not  a  question  which 
can  be  judged  in  a  dry  hglit  in  the  autumn  of  1914.  In  ethical 
theory,  and  in  the  customs  which  it  has  codified,  the  civihzed 
world  has  sought  to  safeguard  the  obligations  of  humanity 
and  the  rights  of  the  person.  Though  the  citizens  of  a  hostile 
state  are  enemies  war  is  not  waged  indiscriminately  upon 
individuals,  but  is  "a  contention  of  states*  through  their  armed 

^  Sae  The  Hague  Peace  Conference,  by  A.  P.  Higgins,  IV.,  "  The  Laws  and 
Customs  of  War  on  Land." 

^  Reprisals  on  innocent  persons  are  not  forbidden  and  the  Hague  Con- 
ventions are  silent  about  hostages.  But  the  practice  of  executing  innocent 
men  in  cold  blood  for  the  misdeeds  of  others  is  one  of  the  most  hideous 
practices  of  modem  war  and  goes  far  to  deprive  non-combatants  of  their 
secxrrity.  On  Reprisals,  see  Oppenheim,  Internat.  Law,  vol.  ii.  p.  305,  and 
on  Hostages,  p.  317,  etc. 

"  Oppenhein,  vol.  ii.  p.  190. 

*  Oppenheim,  ii.  63.  Tiio  doctrine  of  Rousseau,  that  war  is  8,  relation 
between  states  and  not  between  individuals,  goes  a  step  further,  and  is 
largely  accented  on  the  Continent.     British  and  American  writers  regard 


266  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

forces,"  ^  and  neither  its  progress  nor  its  victorious  close  is  to 
deprive  the  vanquished  of  those  rights  which  civiHzed  codes 
accept  as  inherent  in  human  beings. 

10.  In  emancipating  individual  rights  from  the  violence  of 
war,  the  international  lawyers  were  merely  applying  the  concep- 
tion of  the  rights  of  the  individual  personality  on  which  modern 
ethics  rest.  The  further  question  remained,  whether  the  various 
groups  of  mankind  have  as  groups  assignable  rights.  Has  a 
state  rights  as  against  other  states  ?  Has  a  nationality  which  has 
no  independent  government  a  right  as  against  the  state  or  empire 
of  which  it  forms  a  part  ?  Has  a  locality  rights  as  against  the 
country  within  which  it  lies  ?  Confining  ourselves  for  the  present 
to  the  first  question,  we  may  point  out  that  the  utter  denial  of 
all  obhgations  as  between  communities  under  separate  govern- 
ments has  seldom,  if  ever,  been  consistently  carried  out.  Even 
savages  recognize  the  obhgations  of  good  faith,  and  the  wicked- 
ness of  breaking  a  covenant  whe.n  once  made.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  right  of  the  stronger  to  impose  what  terms  he  pleases, 
and  if  necessary  to  push  his  demands  to  the  point  of  the  utter 
annihilation  of  his  enemy  as  an  independent  power,  has  been 
almost  as  generally  admitted.  Yet  in  its  denial  of  international 
justice  the  world  has  always  been  singularly  halting.  The  fable 
of  the  wolf  and  the  lamb  has  always  applied  to  the  deahngs  of 
strong  and  weak  peoples,  and  men  are  never  content  to  destroy 
their  enemies  without  first  proving  them  to  be  wholly  in  the 
wrong  and  utterly  unworthy  to  live.  In  our  own  day  the  con- 
fusion of  ideas  has  reached  its  height,  and  results  in  changes  of 
attitude  which  succeed  one  another  \\ith  be\\ildering  rapidity, 
men  who  at  one  moment  deny  all  pleas  for  international  justice 
as  silly  sentimentality  firing  up  immediately  afterwards  when 
they  are  accused  of  applying  their  own  principles  with  perfect 
consistency,  and  denying  as  a  disgraceful  slander  the  charge  that 
they  have  followed  practices  which  they  have  always  declared 
to  be  justifiable.     From  these  symptoms  we  may  conclude  that 

it  as  formally  inaccurate,  but  Professor  Oppenheim  points  out  that  the 
difference  is  rather  one  of  terms  than  of  substance.  Rousseau's  dictum 
may  be  said  to  express  the  ethical,  if  not  the  legal,  conception  of  modem 
war. 

1  See  Hague  Convention  of  1899,  iv.,  art.  I.  This  was  vmaltered  in  1907. 
Art.  2,  which  accords  belligerent  rights  to  the  population  of  an  invaded 
territory  which  spontaneously  takes  up  arms  without  having  had  time  to 
organize  itself,  was  modified  in  1907  by  the  condition,  "  if  they  carry  arms 
openly."  The  limitation  is  a  serious  one,  for  in  practice  the  accusation 
against  the  people  of  an  occupied  territory  is  constantly  that  they  attack 
by  stealth. 


RELATIONS   BETWEEN  COMMUNITIES  267 

the  human  conscience  is  uneasy  when  it  is  finding  formulae  to 
sanction  wrong-doing  in  international  affairs,  and  that  in  the 
back  of  their  minds  people  recognize  that  justice  is  justice  even 
though  there  be  no  power  to  enforce  it. 

In  the  mediaeval  world  such  a  power  was,  in  fact,  found  in  the 
spiritual  supremacy  of  the  Pope,  which  accustomed  men  to  the 
reconcihation  of  national  independence  with  a  spiritual  authority 
to  whom  all  alike  could  appeal.  Wlien  the  Reformation  broke 
up  this  unity  and  the  discovery  of  America  raised  new  problems 
of  international  right  and  wrong,  the  modern  idea  of  an  inter- 
national code  soon  emerges.  The  early  writers,  like  Franciscus 
a  Victoria,  who  boldly  challenged  the  whole  position  of  tho 
Spanish  in  the  Ii.dies,  were  too  far  ahead  of  their  generation, 
and  passed  away  without  sensibly  influencing  it.  The  work  of 
Grotius,  as  we  ha\e  seen,  had  a  more  enduring  influence,  and 
that  not  only  on  the  usages  of  war,  but  on  the  whole  conception 
of  nations  as  being  at  once  politically  independent  and  yet  morally 
subject  to  the  law  of  Nature.  A  more  revolutionary  principle 
was  introduced,  or  rather  was  brought  into  prominence,  by  the 
Society  of  Friends,  who  denounced  all  warfare  as  contrary  to 
the  teaching  of  Christ,  and  sought  to  recall  men  to  the  principle 
of  non-resistance.  The  influence  of  the  Society  on  the  modern 
world  is  not  to  be  measured  by  the  number  of  converts  to  its 
principles.  It  is  a  protest  which  has  set  the  mihtary  spirit  the 
task  of  justifying  itself.  Such  justification  may  be  founded  in 
theory  on  the  necessities  of  self-defence.  But  if  self-defence  is 
a  fully  sufficient  justification  when  the  genuine  motive  of  resis- 
tance, the  study  of  history  compels  us  to  recognize  that  it  is  too 
often  a  mere  cloak  for  aggression.  Nor  if  people  are  in  earnest 
in  the  desire  to  restrict  war  to  the  occasions  on  which  a  nation 
can  maintain  its  plain  rights  by  no  other  means,  will  they  ques- 
tion that  war  is  a  radically  rude  and  barbarous  method  of  attain- 
ing that  end,  justifiable  at  best  only  until  means  of  obtaining 
justice  in  international  affairs  are  devised  by  the  common-sense 
of  civilized  humanity.  The  repeated  settlement  of  difficulties — 
sometimes  of  a  most  anxious  and  iritating  nature — by  arbitra- 
tion in  recent  years,  the  instances  of  general  agreements  settling 
outstanding  controversies  and  providing  for  arbitration  on 
future  matters  of  disagreement,  and,  finally,  the  provision  of  a 
standing  machinery  for  such  occasions,  all  point  to  a  partial  re- 
placement of  war  by  arbitration,  and  there  seems  every  reason 
to  hope  that  \vithin  a  generation  the  employment  of  judicial 
arbitrament  will  be  as  common  among  the  European  states  as 
it  was  in  the  fifth  century  B.C.  between  the  states  of  Greece. 


268  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

The  doctrine  of  natural  liberty,  particularly  as  preached  by 
Cobden  and  the  Free  Traders,  also  told  heavily  on  the  side  of 
peace,  just  as  the  recrudescence  of  militarism  in  our  own  day 
has  been  associated,  not  in  this  country  alone,  with  economic 
Protection.  But  the  Cobdenite  doctrine  was  negative,  and 
might  even,  if  rigidly  applied  in  cases  like  that  of  the  Armenians, 
be  made  a  justification  for  a  cynical  policy  of  national  isolation. 
More  elastic  and  more  human  was  the  Gladstonian  creed,  which, 
following  in  the  tradition  of  Fox,  and  equally  of  Canning,  utterly 
broke  with  the  doctrine  of  state  morality  and  rested  international 
dealings  on  the  simple  ground  of  right  and  uTong  as  applicable 
to  all  other  human  relations.  This  is  the  Grotian  principle,  but 
more  thoroughly  carried  out.  For  Grotius,  holding  that  states 
were  bound  by  the  Law  of  Nature,  conceived  their  conduct  as 
restricted  only  in  those  directions — and  they  were  not  so  many — 
with  which  the  Law  of  Nature  dealt.  The  fuller  view  allows 
of  no  fundamental  difference  between  one  branch  of  morality 
and  another.  One  is  as  "  natural  "  as  the  other,  and  so  the 
conception  that  we  form  of  the  honour,  the  true  interest,  the 
advancement  of  our  country  is  to  be  measured  by  the  same 
standards  as  we  apply  in  judging  of  what  redounds  to  the  honour, 
the  true  interest,  the  advancement  of  our  dearest  friends.  At 
this  point  we  reach  the  result  to  v/hich  Mazzini  was  led  by  one 
road  and  Comte  by  another,  of  each  nation  as  a  member  of  the 
family  of  nations  which  constitute  humanity,  as  possessing  duties 
as  well  as  rights  in  virtue  of  its  position,  and  as  deriving  a  higher 
honour  and  more  lasting  glory  from  its  services  to  the  greater 
whole  of  which  it  is  a  part  than  from  any  exhibition  of  superior 
strength  shown  in  rivalry  with  its  fellow-members.  Just  as 
international  law  rests  in  its  beginnings  on  the  conception  of 
humanity  as  incarnate  in  the  person  of  every  human  being,  so 
in  the  consummated  conception  of  right  and  brotherhood  between 
nations,  it  touches  the  other  pole  of  modern  ethics — the  con- 
ception of  humanity -as  a  whole,  the  sum  of  all  human  beings 
and  their  collective  history.  In  this  conception  the  old  group- 
morahty  disappears.  The  special  relations  of  citizenship  impose 
special  obligations,  but  they  are  no  longer  incompatible  with 
the  wider  obligations  to  humanity  at  large,  but  supplement  them. 
The  Enghshman  owes  a  duty  to  England — the  mother  of  free- 
dom, the  land  of  his  fathers,  the  state  which  protects  him,  the 
nation  which  stimulates  and  guides  him  with  a  glorious  tradition, 
wliich  it  is  his  most  splendid  ambition  to  carry  further  on  its 
true  line  of  growth.  He  doe.::  not  owe  the  same  duties  to  France 
or  Germany,  but  he  ov.es  them  recognition  as  members  of  the 


RELATIONS   BETWEEN  COMMUNITIES  269 

family  of  nations,  and  there  are  times  when  he  can  best  serve 
England  by  reminding  her  of  what  is  due  to  them.  The  true 
patriotism  is  the  corner-stone  of  true  internationalism. 

In  all  this  it  is  true  that  we  are  describing  the  ideals  of  thinkers 
and  statesmen  rather  than  the  practice  of  nations.  Still,  that 
such  ideals  should  have  come  into  touch  with  practical  states- 
manship, as  in  the  course  of  the  nineteenth  century  they  un- 
doubtedly did,  is  itself  a  fact  of  the  highest  importance  for 
ethical  history.  And  notwithstanding  a  certain  counter  move- 
ment in  more  recent  thought,  the  actual  reaHzation  of  internation- 
alism contrives,  on  the  whole,  to  move  forward.  The  develop- 
ment may  be  compared  to  the  rise  of  justice  Avithin  society. 
The  civilized  world  has  passed  through  the  age  of  the  blood  feud 
in  which  any  quarrel  gave  rise  to  a  war  of  extermination.  Custom 
has  long  since  restricted  the  quarrel,  excluded  non-combatants 
from  the  ring,  and  prohibited  the  general  massacre  or  enslave- 
ment of  the  kinsfolk.  But,  as  in  many  primitive  societies,  there 
is  no  physical  force  behind  these  customs,  there  is  nothing  but 
the  pressure  of  opinion  and  the  ethical  and  religious  ideas  shared 
by  the  nations  concerned  in  common  with  their  neighbours.  The 
next  stage  is  to  institute  a  court  for  the  settlement  of  disputes. 
Such  a  court  generally  has  no  powers  in  early  society  except  the 
moral  power  of  an  appeal  to  opinion,  and  precisely  this  is  the 
position  of  the  Hague  tribunal.  It  is  not  difficult  to  imagine  a 
time  when  the  decisions  of  that  tribunal  shall  have  gained  such 
authority  that  to  dispute  them  will  be  held  at  once  an  outrage 
on  justice  and  a  menace  to  the  world's  peace — such  a  menace 
as  would  provoke  a  combination  of  powers  to  coerce  the  recalci- 
trant party.  At  that  point  the  world's  tribunal  will  have  gained 
the  executive  authority  needed  to  transform  it  into  a  fully- 
developed  court  of  justice.! 

^  The  above  section  was  written  in  days  of  peace.  How  far  and  in  what 
direction  it  should  be  altered  in  the  light  of  subsequent  events,  are  ques- 
tions to  which  it  is  premature  to  attempt  an  answer.  The  passage  has, 
therefore,  been  left  as  it  stood. 


CHAPTER  VII 

CLASS    RELATIONS 

1.  We  have  seen  that  morality  at  its  outset  is  bound  up  v.-ith 
the  structure  of  the  social  group.  Between  members  of  any 
one  community  the  obUgations  recognized  may  be  many  and 
stringent,  while  in  relation  to  outsiders  no  obligations  are  re- 
cognized at  all.  The  typical  primitive  community  is,  as  it  were, 
a  little  island  of  friends  amid  a  sea  of  strangers  and  enemies. 
The  consequences  of  the  group  principle  we  have  traced  in  the 
history  of  warfare.  We  have  seen  it  appHed  in  its  extreme  form 
in  the  treatment  of  conquered  enemies  as  men  destitute  of  any 
title  to  consideration  ;  we  have  seen  that  as  moral  development 
proceeds,  it  is  moderated  and  softened,  but  that,  except  in  the 
highest  ethical  thought,  it  does  not  wholly  disappear.  Through- 
out history  we  have  the  standing  contrast  of  the  comparative 
peace,  order  and  co-operation  within  each  organized  society, 
and  the  disunion  constantly  tending  to  hostihty  found  in  the 
relations  of  different  societies  to  one  another.  We  have  now  to 
trace  the  operation  of  the  same  principle  upon  the  structure  of 
society  itself. 

The  primitive  community  is,  as  a  rule,  small,  but  compact  and 
homogeneous.  There  is  always  the  distinction  between  its  own 
members  and  outsiders  ;  there  is  also  a  greater  or  less  distinction 
in  the  rights  enjoyed  by  the  two  sexes.  In  other  respects  the 
obhgations  constituting  its  ethical  life  are  fairly  uniform.  But 
as  society  grows  and  its  industrial  life  develops,  as  primitive 
barbarism  gives  way  to  some  degree  of  culture,  this  simphcity 
of  the  early  social  organization  breaks  up,  and  now  the  group 
principle  obtains  a  fresh  development.  Distinct  groups  arise 
within  each  society,  within  the  limits  of  a  single  community, 
under  one  king  or  one  governing  body.  Besides  the  group  of 
free  men — to  use  that  term  provisionally — who  constitute  the 
members  of  the  community  in  the  fullest  sense  of  the  word,  there 
arise  inferior  classes,  slaves  or  serfs  or  low-caste  men  who  are  in 
the  community  and  yet  not  of  it,  who  are  subject  to  its  laws  and 
customs,  but  not  possessed  of  all  the  civil  rights  which  member- 
ship  confers.     These    inferior    groups    within    the    community 

270 


CLASS  RELATIONS  271 

occupy  a  position  wliich  is  morally  and  legally  analogous  to 
that  of  strangers  and  enemies.  In  extreme  cases  they  are  wholly 
devoid  of  rights,  in  other  cases  their  inferiority  is  marked  by  a 
more  or  less  serious  lack  of  the  civil  rights  enjoyed  by  their 
superiors.  Historically,  in  the  case  of  slaves,  their  position  is, 
in  point  of  fact,  very  largely  that  of  incorporated  enemies,  and 
whether  this  corresponds  to  the  historical  fact  or  not,  ethically 
speaking,  the  denial  of  personal  rights  from  which  they  suffer  is 
a  consequence  of  that  same  group-morality  which  from  the  first 
contrasts  friend  and  neighbour  with  stranger  and  enemy,  and 
denies  to  the  one  the  elementary  rights  of  a  human  being,  which 
are  readily  accorded  to  the  other. 

Not  merely  political  privileges,  but  civil  rights,  the  right  of 
holding  property,  the  right  of  personal  freedom,  the  right  of 
marriage,  even  the  right  of  protection  of  life  or  limb,  are  wholly 
or  in  part  denied  to  classes  excluded  from  full  membersliip  of 
the  community.  Such  distinctions  of  personal  status  are  found 
in  one  form  or  another  in  the  great  mass  of  societies,  civiHzed 
or  uncivihzed,  wMch  sta,nd  above  the  lowest  stages  of  culture. 
They  persist  well  into  the  modern  period,  and  are  but  slowly 
modified,  and  partially  abrogated  in  proportion  as  the  whole 
principle  of  group-morality  jaelds  to  ethical  criticism.  Of  these 
distinctions  the  commonest  is,  of  course,  the  distinction  between 
slave  and  free,  but  slavery  is  in  many  cases  replaced  by  serfdom 
and  in  others  by  caste.  What  is  common  to  all  three  institutions 
is  the  derogation  from  full  rights  which  they  imply.  In  detail 
they  are  distinct,  though  the  line  of  demarcation  is  not  always 
easy  to  draw.  We  may  say  that  the  slave,  properly  regarded, 
is  a  man  whom  law  and  custom  regard  as  the  property  of  another. 
In  extreme  cases  he  is  wholly  without  rights,  a  pure  chattel ;  in 
other  cases  he  may  be  protected  in  certain  respects,  but  so  may 
an  ox  or  an  ass.  As  long  as  he  is  for  all  ordinary  purposes  com- 
pletely at  his  master's  disposal,  rendering  to  his  master  the  fruits 
of  his  work,  performing  his  work  under  orders,  rewarded  at  his 
master's  discretion,  and  liable  to  punishment  on  liis  master's 
judgment,  he  may,  though  protected  in  other  relations,  fairly  be 
called  a  slave.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  he  has  by  his  position  certain 
countervailing  rights,  e.  g.  to  inherited  property  from  which  he 
cannot  (except  for  some  default)  be  dislodged,  he  becomes,  though 
still  liable  to  labour  under  his  master's  direction,  still  subject, 
perhaps,  to  pumshment  and  still  in  an  inferior  legal  position, 
no  longer  a  slave,  but  a  serf.  Serf  and  slave  alike  belong  to  some 
definite  master,  pubhc  or  private,  A  servile  caste,  on  the  other 
hand,    is    not   necessarily    in    the    ownership    of    man    or    body 


MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

of  men.  It  is  distinguished  by  a  greater  or  less  lack  of  personal 
rights,  by  social  inferiority,  and  probably  by  a  taboo  cutting  it 
off  from  intercourse  with  others.  And  as  there  may  be  servile 
castes  falHng  below  the  normal  level  of  free  men,  so  there  may 
be  privileged  castes  of  nobles  possessing,  as  it  were,  an  excess 
of  rights,  and  these  privileges  may  indirectly  depress  the  position 
of  the  ordinary  member  of  society  and  impair  his  freedom  by 
withholding  protection  from  him  in  relation  to  one  of  the  nobihty. 
Finally,  the  whole  community  may  suffer  a  similar  depression  in 
relation  to  the  Mng,  who,  in  the  extreme  development  of  the 
despotic  principle,  becomes,  as  we  have  seen,  eminent  owner  of 
all  property  and  lord  of  the  persons  of  his  subjects.  In  such 
cases,  though  there  may  still  be  distinct  grades  in  society,  yet 
all  subjects  alike  are  in  principle  destitute  of  rights. 

Now  all  these  methods  of  the  gradation  of  rights,  if  the  phrase 
be  allowed,  rest  ultimately  on  the  principle  of  group-morahty — 
the  principle  that  rights  and  duties  do  not  attach  to  the  human 
being  as  such,  but  are  determined  by  extraneous  considerations, 
social,  pohtical,  or  rehgious.  The  development  which  this  prin- 
ciple attains  varies  very  greatly  in  different  societies,  and  depends 
upon  economic  and  social,  as  well  as  on  ethical  and  rehgious 
conditions ;  but  its  operation,  in  one  form  or  another,  persists 
throughout  liistory,  and  is  one  of  the  dominant  facts,  if  not  the 
dominant  fact,  ethically  considered,  in  the  evolution  of  human 
society.  In  tracing  its  varied  development,  we  shall  for  the 
most  part  follow  the  history  of  slavery  and  serfdom  as  the 
main  line  along  which  it  runs.  We  shall,  however,  deal  with 
other  forms  which  the  principle  assumes,  as  occasion  requires. 

2.  In  the  primitive  group,  as  has  been  said,  we  find,  as  a  rule, 
no  distinction  of  slave  and  free,  no  serfdom,  no  caste,  and  little, 
if  any,  distinction  between  chief  and  follower.  Taking  this 
statement  alone,  one  might  infer  that  the  primitive  savage 
reahzes  the  ideal  of  the  philosopher  of  a  community  of  free  men 
and  equals ;  but  the  savage  enjoys  freedom  and  equality,  not 
because  he  has  reahzed  the  value  of  those  conceptions,  but  be- 
cause neither  he  nor  his  fellow  is  strong  enough  to  put  himself 
above  his  neighbour.  Two  conditions  suffice  to  ensure  the 
growth  of  slavery  or  of  a  servile  caste  in  the  savage  world.  The 
first  condition  is  a  certain  development  of  industriahsm.  In  a 
hunter  tribe,  which  lives  from  hand  to  mouth,  there  is  httle 
occasion  for  the  services  of  a  slave.  The  harder  and  less  in- 
teresting work  can  be  put  upon  the  women,  and  the  chief  occupa- 
tion of  the  men  is  to  fight.    This  brings  us  at  once  to  the  second 


CLASS  RELATIONS  273 

condition,  which  is  a  measure  of  warHke  prowess,  giving  to  a 
tribe  the  means  of  supplying  slaves  from  its  captives.  But  not 
only  must  a  tribe  that  is  to  obtain  captive  slaves,  conquer ;  it 
must  also  refrain  from  putting  its  captives  to  death,  and  we  have 
already  seen  how  the  difficulty  of  exercising  such  restraint 
militates  against  the  rise  of  slavery  in  savage  society,  and  how, 
in  consequence,  though  the  idea  of  slavery  is  widely  diffused  in 
the  uncivilized  world,  the  institution  grows  more  important  step 
by  step  with  the  development  of  civilization.  We  find  many 
civilized  peoples,  where  slavery  has  attained  a  luxuriant  growth, 
retaining  a  tradition  of  a  time  at  wiiich  there  were  no  slaves, 
and  these  traditions  may  well  preserve  an  historical  truth.  But 
the  enslavement  of  the  vanquished  is  not  the  only  alternative 
open  to  a  conquering  people.  Instead  of  apportioning  the 
captives  to  individuals  as  their  booty,  they  may  reduce  the 
conquered  tribe  collectively  to  a  servile  position.  In  that  case 
we  get  from  the  first  a  system  of  public  serfdom.  In  other  cases, 
again,  possibly  as  a  development  of  tliis  practice,  the  distinction 
of  conqueror  and  conquered  hardens  into  a  distinction  of  caste 
sanctioned  by  rehgion.  Finally,  the  development  of  mihtary 
organization,  and  the  consequent  rise  of  the  power  of  the  chief, 
are  responsible  for  that  form  of  "  rightlessness  "  in  which  all 
members  of  the  tribe  become  slaves  of  the  king.^ 

In  one  or  other  of  these  different  forms  we  find  the  conception 
of  a  class  of  men,  wholly  or  partly  destitute  of  rights,  widely 
diffused  throughout  the  uncivilized  world.  The  special  home  of 
slavery  is,  of  course,  Negro  Africa,  where  the  exceptions  in  which 
the    institution    is    not    found    are    quite    inconsiderable. ^     In 

^  Post  {Afrik.  Jurisp.,  vol.  i.  p.  115  seq.)  gives  a  nvunber  of  African 
peoples  in  which  the  king  has  absolute  powers  of  life  and  death  over  his 
people,  and  a  number  in  which  all  subjects  are  regarded  as  his  slaves. 
Among  the  Kaffirs  the  king  could  take  any  man's  cattle  to  replace  his 
own. 

2  According  to  Waitz  (vol.  ii.  p.  398),  slavery  was  for  the  most  part 
unknown  among  Kaffirs,  and  the  case  of  a  sale  of  children  recorded  by 
Moffat  is  regarded  as  exceptional.  A  less  favourable  view  of  Kaffir  warfare 
is  taken  by  Letourneau  (Esclavage,  p.  53),  who  says  that  they  took  girl 
prisoners  as  concubines  and  youths  as  slaves,  though  their  manners  were 
too  savage  for  regular  slavery.  Letourneau  also  draws  attention  (pp.  54, 
55)  to  a  servile  class,  called  balala,  among  the  Bechuanas,  who  had  no 
possessions,  had  to  perform  manual  labour  in  return  for  food,  might  be 
slain  for  disobedience,  and  supplied  victims  for  human  sacrifice  upon 
occasion.  We  have  here  something  more  nearly  approaching  a  caste 
distinction  than  ordinary  slavery. 

The  Hottentots,  according  to  Letourneau  (ib.,  pp.  49-51),  gave  no 
quarter  and  held  no  slaves,  but,  according  to  authorities  cited  by  Kohler 
(Z.  f.  V.  R.,  1902,  p.  340),  slavery,  though  it  has  now  disappeared,  existed 
formerly,  and  the  slaves  were  at  the  masters'  mercy  and  often  ill-treated. 

T 


274  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

Oceania  there  is  more  variety.  In  some  of  the  islands,  as  has 
been  seen,  war  is  but  Httle  knoAvn,  and  in  these  cases  slavery  is 
also  absent ;  ^  but  there  are  other  causes  militating  against  its 
development.  In  Melanesia  cannibahsm  is  frequent,  and  in 
some  cases,  for  example  in  Fiji,  slaves  are  kept  for  cannibal 
purposes.^  In  IVIicronesia,  again,  a  strongly-marked  caste  divi- 
sion partially  replaces  slavery,  though  there  may  be  slaves  in 
the  proper  sense  in  addition  to  the  servile  caste.  Throughout 
Polynesia  caste  is  more  prominent  than  slavery.^  It  is  a  Poly- 
nesian saying,  that  "  a  chief  cannot  steal,"  and  in  Tahiti,  if  a 
chief  asks,  "  Whose  is  that  tree,  etc.,"  the  owner  answers, 
"  Yours  and  mine."  The  killing  of  one  of  the  lower  by  a  member 
of  the  liigher  class  is  regarded  as  merely  a  peccadillo.*  In 
Micronesia  the  original  principle  of  the  constitution  seems  to 
have  been  a  division  into  two  castes,  the  one  god-hke,  immortal, 
and  possessing  aU  the  power ;  the  other  having  no  souls,  no 
property,  no  wives,  and  doing  all  the  hard  labour ;  but  below 
these  again  were  the  enslaved  prisoners.^  In  the  Malay  region 
slavery  is  widely  diffused,  especially  in  the  towais,^  though,  as 
we  shall  see  later,  its  forms  differ,  and  in  some  cases,  particularly 
under  Mohammedan  influence,  the  slave  is  by  no  means  rightless. 
Among  the  rude  Indian  hill  tribes  the  institution  is  naturally 
less  developed.  In  some  cases,  as  among  the  Bodos  and  Dhimals, 
there  are  apparently  no  slaves,  and  the  same  is  said  to  be  true 
of  some  of  the  Naga  tribes.  Other  Nagas,  however,  make  slavefi 
of  captives,'  and  among  many  other  hill  tribes  slaves  are  held.* 

^  For  example,  in  the  little  island  of  Rotuna  slavery  proper  did  not  exist 
and  casual  strangers  were  usually  married  and  adopted  into  a  clan.  Some 
Fijians  and  Melanesians,  however,  have  been  treated  as  inferiors,  not  being 
adopted  (J.  S.  Gardiner,  in  J.  A.  /.,  xxvii.  486).  In  parts  of  New 
Guinea  there  is  no  slavery  (Letourneau,  p.  39) ;  it  is  the  exception  among 
the  Papuas  (ih.,  p.  35,  and  Kohler,  Z.  /.  V.  R.,  1900,  p.  364). 

*  Letourneau,  op.  cit.,  p.  41.  Broadly,  Letourneau  concludes  Melanesian 
slavery  originated  for  the  sake  of  cannibalisin. 

*  Thus  in  the  Marquesas  Islands  there  were  no  slaves,  but  a  despised 
lower  class  who  furnished  victims  for  human  sacrifice  (Letourneau,  p.  183). 

*  ib.,  188. 

*  Waitz,  V.  ii.  125.  In  the  Carolinas  not  only  was  intermarriage 
forbidden,  but  the  lower  caste  had  to  avoid  contact  with  the  higher  on 
pain  of  death.  Fishery  and  sea-faring  were  forbidden  occupations  to  the 
lower  caste. 

*  See  Waitz,  Anthropologie,  v.  i.  154  seq. ;  Ratzel,  History  oj  Mankind, 
i.  446. 

'  Slavery  is  said  to  be  universal  among  the  Aos  (Godden,  J.  A.  I., 
xxvi.  184),  but  the  Luhupas  and  one  or  two  other  tribes  are  said  to 
have  no  slaves  and  to  be  opposed  to  the  institution.  All  the  Nagas  are 
head-hunters  (Godden,  J.  A.  I.,  xxvii.  12). 

*  e.  g.  Kukis,  Garos,  Gonds  and  Khonds,  who  use  slaves  for  sacrifices. 
The  Lakka  Kols  have  serfs  instead  of  slaves  (Letourneau,  pp.  305-306). 


CLASS   RELATIONS 


275 


The  nomad  tribes  of  Central  Asia  do  not  generally  spare  their 
captives,  and  still  practise  human  sacrifice,  but  the  richer  tribes 
are  slave-holders.^  Among  the  North  American  Lidians  slavery 
is  but  little  developed  east  of  the  Rockies,  though  there  were  a 
few  tribes  which  occasionaUy  practised  ^  it  as  an  alternative  to 
the  torture  or  adoption  of  prisoners.  In  the  west  and  north, 
however,  it  was  widely  diffused,^  though  here  also,  in  some  cases, 
the  indiscriminate  massacre  of  prisoners  was  the  common 
alternative.  In  some  tribes  of  tropical  South  America  war 
captives  are  enslaved,  but  prisoners  may  also  be  put  to  death 
or  adopted  as  members  of  the  tribe.*  The  dependence  of  slavery 
on  the  economic  factor  is  shown  by  its  regular  increase  at  each 
economic  grade.  The  following  table  ^  shows  the  number  of 
peoples  who  hold  slaves  either  in  permanence  or  as  objects  of 
a  regular  traffic  ;  the  second  column  reduces  this  number  to  a 
fraction  of  all  the  cases  in  each  grade  where  information  was 
obtained  about  war  and  warhke  matters,  this  being  the  depart- 
ment of  ethnography  in  which  we  are  most  likely  to  meet  with 
statements  as  to  slavery  if  it  exists. 


Lower  Hunters 
Higher  Hunters 
Agriculture  I 
Pastoral  I 
Agriculture  II 
Pastoral  II 
Agriculture  III 


Numbers  of 

Fraction  of  the 

Slave-holding 

Total  Number 

Peoples. 

of  Peoples. 

1 

•02 

26 

•325 

14i 

•33 

H 

•37 

59| 

•46 

12 

•71 

77 

•78 

1  Ratzel,  vol.  iii.  p.  346.  According  to  Letoumeau  (p.  223),  a  form  of 
serf  cultivation  is  more  strongly  developed  than  personal  slavery. 

^  e.  g.  according  to  Waitz  (vol.  iii.  p.  158),  the  tribes  of  North  Carolina, 
the  Navajos,  Iroquois  and  Hurons. 

^  Thus,  among  the  Oregons,  prisoners  were  enslaved  "  from  time  im- 
memorial "  and  sometimes  sacrificed  at  the  death  of  a  master  (Alvord, 
in  Schoolcraft,  v.  654).  Slavery  is  said  to  have  extended  over  the 
whole  north-west  coast  (Waitz,  vol.  iii.  p.  329).  At  Nootka  Sound 
prisoners  when  spared  were  enslaved.  The  Chinooks  made  slave  razzias 
and  held  the  slave  as  a  chattel  and  object  of  trade  [ib.,  pp.  334,  338). 
The  Apaches  killed  the  male  captives,  but  sometimes  held  the  women  as 
slaves  (Reclus,  p.  128). 

*  Schmidt,  Z.  f.  V.  R.,  1898,  p.  294.  According  to  Letoumeau  (p.  123) 
the  nomads  of  the  Pampas  rarely  give  quarter  to  males,  but  sometimes 
take  women  as  slave  concubines  and  bring  up  children  to  be  adopted  into 
the  conquering  tribe. 

^  From  the  Simpler  Peoples,  pp.  23o-236. 


276 


MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 


The  proportions  show  an  increase  at  each  grade  ^  which, 
rough  as  the  classification  necessarily  is,  and  imperfect  as  our 
information  must  be,  can  hardly  be  altogether  accidental.  It 
is  of  interest  to  set  side  by  side  with  these  figures  the  correspond- 
ing table  for  "nobility,"  by  which  we  mean  an  upper  rank, 
other  than  the  ruling  chief  with  his  immediate  family,  distin- 
guished by  privileges,  greater  or  less,  from  the  mass  of  the 
people. 

Nobles 


Casea                   Fri 

ictio 

Lower  Hunters 

.      .           0                    0 

Higher  Hunters   . 

.      .           9 

11 

Agriculture  I 

.    .         H 

03 

Pastoral  I        ... 

.      .           3 

20 

Agriculture  II 

.     .         19 

15 

Pastoral  II     .      .      . 

.      .           4 

24 

Agriculture  III    . 

.     .        23 

•23 

The  proportions  are  much  smaller,  but  the  tendency  is  in  the 
same  direction.^  The  same  advance  in  social  and  industrial 
organization  which  tends  to  the  formation  of  a  servile  ciass 
below  the  ordinary  free  man  works,  though  less  surely  and 
rapidly,  to  the  elevation  of  a  small  class  above  him. 

Thus  we  may  fairly  say  (1)  that  in  the  rudest  tribes  there  are 
no  class  distinctions,  the  harder  and  more  menial  work  falling 
often  (though  not  always)  upon  the  women ;  (2)  as  a  tribe 
grows  in  culture,  and  especially  in  miHtary  strength,  the  first 
result  is,  as  a  rule,  that  the  conquered  enemies  are  sacrificed, 
eaten,  tortured,  or  in  any  case  put  to  death.  But  (3)  -with,  a 
certain  softening  of  manners,  or  at  any  rate  "uith  a  cooler 
perception  of  permanent  advantage,  prisoners  are  spared  and 
enslaved.  This  grace  is  first  reserved  for  women  and  children, 
but  is  afterwards  extended  to  male  captives.  A  class  is  thus 
formed  who  are  within  the  jurisdiction  of  the  conquering  tribe, 
but  from  the  point  of  view  of  law  and  morals  remain  outside  it. 
Either  in  the  form  of  a  class  of  slaves  or  of  a  degraded  quasi - 
servile  lower  caste,  the    presence  of  such  an   element  in  the 

1  The  results  do  not  differ  markedly  from  Dr.  Nieboer's,  whose  work 
should  be  consulted  on  the  point,  though  we  include  { 1 )  cases  where  women 
and  children  only  are  held  as  slaves,  and  (2)  cases  in  which  slaves  are  taken 
to  sell  again,  both  of  which  he  excludes. 

*  It  should  be  said  that  of  the  nine  cases  among  the  Higher  Hunters 
eight  are  from  the  Fisher  peoples  of  the  Pacific  Coast,  who  also  supply  the 
great  majority  of  the  cases  of  slavery  in  this  grade. 


CLASS  RELATIONS  277 

population  is  a  general  feature  in  societies  wliich  have  emerged 
from  the  lower  savagery  and  the  rawest  militarism.  On  the 
strict  principle  of  group-morality  this  class  is  destitute  of  rights, 
and  only  too  often  the  principle  is  consistently  carried  out. 
The  typical  slave  can  neither  marry  nor  hold  property  except 
on  sufferance.  His  very  life  is  in  his  master's  hands.  He  may 
be  flogged,  maimed,  sold,  pawned,  given  away,  exchanged,  or 
put  to  death.;, 

3.  Jii  many  slave  systems,  however,  this  "  rightlessness  "  is 
qualified  in  various  ways.  How  this  qualification  arises  we 
shall  best  understand  if  we  take  a  more  complete  view  of  the 
actual  sources  from  which  slaves  are  recruited.  Hitherto  we 
have  spoken  only  of  captives  in  war.  But  this,  though  probably 
the  original  method  by  which  a  servile  class  is  formed,  is  not  the 
only  method  by  which  it  is  recruited.  Of  other  methods  the 
first  and  greatest  is  inheritance — for  normally  a  slave's  child 
is  also  a  slave.  Secondly,  in  most  barbaric  and  semi-civilized 
societies  the  numbers  of  the  slave  class  are  swollen  by  other 
causes,  principally  by  debt,  crime,  and  the  slave  trade.  In  some 
cases  slavery  is  the  prescribed  penalty  for  crime.  More  often 
the  man  who  cannot  pay  the  prescribed  composition  either  falls 
into  slavery  himself  as  a  debt-slave  in  order,  as  it  were,  to  work 
out  his  debt,  or  sells,  particularly  under  the  sway  of  the  fully 
developed  patria  potestas,  his  wife  or  child  for  that  purpose. 
"  What !  shall  I  starve  as  long  as  my  sister  has  children  whom 
she  can  sell  ?  "  was  the  remark  of  an  African  negro  to  Burton — 
a  remark  which  comprises  a  whole  chapter  upon  primitive  ethics 
in  a  few  words. 

The  formation  of  debtor-slaves,  and  even  the  increase  of 
hereditary  slaves,  has,  however,  a  certain  softening  influence 
upon  the  institution  of  slavery  itself,  for  while  the  captive  slave 
remains  an  enemy  in  the  sight  of  law  and  morals  and  is  there- 
fore rightless,  the  debtor  or  the  criminal  was  originally  a  member 
of  the  community,  and  in  relation  to  him  there  is  apt  to  arise 
some  limitation  of  the  power  of  the  master.  The  family  of  the 
debtor-slave  will  not  see  him  treated  with  unlimited  cruelty; 
they  retain  some  right  of  protection,  however  illogically,  just 
as  they  retain  protection  over  the  purchased  v-iie,  however 
illogically.  In  fact,  the  slave  is  no  longer  a  mere  stranger  or 
enemy.  He  is  partially  incorporated  in  the  community  and  has 
some  recognized  rights,  though  by  no  means  those  of  a  free  man. 
The  improvement  tends  to  extend  itself  to  the  liereditary  slave 
who  also  was  born  in  the  comniuiiity,  though  witliin  the  slave 


278  MORALS  IN   EVOLUTION 

class.  Thus  there  comes  to  be  a  distinction  between  the 
domestic  slave  and  the  slave  who  is  captured  or  bought  from 
abroad.  The  one  remains  a  chattel -slave,  the  other  is  becoming  a 
serf.  There  are  thus  many  gradations  of  "  rightlessness  "  in  the 
servile  status,  and  these  must  very  briefly  be  passed  in  review. 

Customs  protecting  the  slave  from  undue  tyranny  are  found 
in  the  barbaric  and  semi-civilized  world,  though  in  many  cases 
they  are  not  derived  from  barbaric  ideas,  but  are  traceable  to  the 
influence  of  Mohammedanism.  In  these  customs  the  distinction 
between  the  domestic  and  the  foreign  slave  is  generally  well 
marked.  Illustrations  of  almost  every  degree  in  "  rightlessness  " 
may  be  dra^vn  from  African  slavery.  Thus,  among  the  Foulah, 
house  slaves  are  treated  as  members  of  the  family,  and  are  sold 
only  in  necessity  or  for  a  punishment,  while  war  captives  and 
purchased  foreign  slaves  are  wholly  without  rights.  In  Bambara 
captives  are  pure  chattels,  but  house  slaves  have  a  good  position 
and  in  some  cases  are  treated  as  members  of  the  family.  Among 
the  Timmanees,  the  Bulloms,  and  the  Beni-amer,  no  one  is  sold 
as  a  slave  who  was  not  bought  as  such.  Among  the  Mandin- 
goes  native  slaves  are  protected,  while  others  are  at  the  mercy  of 
the  master  to  sell  or  kill.  On  the  Congo  the  captive  slave  may 
be  sold,  but  house  slaves  only  after  a  palaver — that  is,  Avith  the 
consent  of  the  community.  Among  the  Barea  and  Kunama  the 
master  has  no  right  of  life  and  death  over  native  slaves.  At 
Timbuctoo  no  native  can  be  enslaved  at  all.  Among  the  West 
Equatorial  tribes  the  slave  may  be  killed  by  his  master,  but  not 
sold  abroad  except  for  some  transgression.  At  Nuffi  a  master 
may  strike,  but  not  mutilate  or  kill  his  slave.  In  Sokoto  and 
among  the  Yolofs  the  captive  slave  may  be  sold  at  will,  the  born 
slave  only  after  repeated  chastisement.  In  Bihe  pawn-slaves 
are  protected,  while  bought  ones  can  be  arbitrarily  punished, 
and  only  in  the  case  of  their  death  is  a  small  fine  due  from  the 
owner  to  the  king.  Among  the  Mpongwe  the  house  slave  can 
only  be  sold  for  some  offence,  and  here  slaves  call  their  master 
"father"  and  are  well  treated.  The  Fantis  recognize  the  dis- 
tinction between  the  slaves  of  their  own  tribe  and  those  of  other 
tribes,  and  among  the  Ibu,  on  the  Niger,  slaves  can  hold  propertj^, 
build  houses  and  marry .^  They  then  rank  as  free,  p^^dng  only  a 
yearly  tax,  and  the  relation,  in  fact,  passes  into  a  kind  of  light 
serfdom.  Similarly  at  Sokoto,  the  slave  is  at  about  the  age 
of  twenty  given  a  wife  and  set  up  in  a  hut  in  the  country.  At 
Boussa  they  farm  the  land  on  the  metayer  principle,  and  thougli 
in  law  the  masters  could  sell  them  and  take  their  wives,  children 

'  See  Post,  Afiik.  Jiuisprudcns,  i.  88,  92,  96;  Waitz,  ii.  213-214. 


CLASS  RELATIONS  27d 

and  goods,  in  practice  they  enjoy  much  hberty  and  property.^ 
Various  forms  of  serfdom,  existing  often  side  by  side  \^ith 
slavery,  are  common  in  Africa,  the  serf  cultivating  the  land 
and  owing  labour  service  or  payment  in  kind,  and  sometimes 
holding  property  of  his  own.^ 

A  right  frequent  in  IMohammedan  countries,  found  also  in  one 
or  two  instances  of  non-Mohammedan  tribes,  is  that  of  changing 
the  master.  This  a  slave  can  effect  by  the  legal  process  of  noxce 
datio,  by  which,  on  inflicting  some  injury  on  some  man  other 
than  his  own  master,  he,  ipso  facto,  becomes  that  man's  slave. 
Among  the  Barea  and  Kunama  a  native  slave  can  simply  leave 
for  another  village  and  so  become  free.  In  Zanzibar  slaves 
obtain  this  right  as  the  result  of  dehberate  ill-treatment,  and  the 
same  custom  is  found  on  the  Congo,  among  the  Apingi,  and 
other  West  Equatorial  tribes.  Li  Ashanti  slaves  can  commend 
themselves  to  a  new  master  by  giving  him  the  right  of  life  and 
death  over  them,  and  in  Timbuctoo,  if  ill-treated,  a  slave  may 
appeal  to  tl^o  court  in  order  to  be  sold.  Among  the  Beni-amer 
the  distinction  between  the  born  slave  and  the  foreign  slave  is 
well  marked  in  the  case  of  homicide.  For  the  bought  slave  only 
the  "  wer  "  can  be  demanded,  but  the  born  slave  can  be  avenged 
by  blood.  The  marriage  of  slaves  depends  generally  upon  the 
will  of  the  master.  Li  relation  to  property  their  rights  var}'^ 
greatly,  and  here  again  the  distinction  of  origin  of  slaves  makes 
itself  felt,  e.  g.  among  the  Bogos  and  Marea  a  slave  who  is  the 
son  of  a  free-born  man  has  the  right  to  buy  his  freedom,  a  right 
which  is  denied  to  the  slave  by  birth.^ 

Of  the  various  tribes  mentioned,  those  in  which  protection  is 
carried  furthest  are  for  the  most  part  either  partially  Mohammed- 
anized  or  partially  Christianized,*  and  while  some  distinction 
between  domestic  and  foreign  slaves  may  be  attributed  to 
Negroland  generally,  such  further  amelioration  of  the  slave's 
position  as  is  to  be  found  in  barbarous  or  semi-civihzed  Africa 
is  probably  to  be  attributed  to  the  higher  ethics  of  a  civihzed 
rehgion.^  The  same  influence  is  found  at  work  among  the 
Malays,  Avhere  the  distinction  of  native  and  foreign  slaves  also 

^  Letourneau,  p.  103.  Yet  at  Sokoto  captive  slaves,  besides  being 
frequently  sold,  are  treated  as  beasts  of  burden  and  chained  for  trivial 
offences  (Post,  A.  J.,  i.  90 ;    Letourneau,  UEsdavage,  p.  102). 

*  For  instances,  see  Post,  Afrik.  Jurisp.,  pp.  98,  101,  10(3.  Ijj  case  of 
failure  to  make  due  payments  the  serf  is  often  reduced  to  the  position  of  a 
slave,  e.  g.  among  the  Takue,  Marea,  and  Bogos.  Among  the  Beni-amer 
the  penalty  of  failure  is  death  (Post,  A.  J.,  i.  101). 

^  Instances  are  found  at  Khartoum,  among  the  Usagara,  the  Futatoro, 
and  among  the  Kimbunda  (Post,  A.  J.,  103,  105,  112). 

*  Letourneau,  88.  '  Letourneau,  p.  72  seq. 


280  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

re-appears.  Speaking  generally,  the  captive  slaves  are  destitute 
of  rights,  and  the  capture  and  sale  of  slaves  is  a  chief  line  of 
business  among  all  Malays  who  trade  in  ships  of  their  own. 
But  crime  and  debt  are  also  rich  sources  of  slavery,^  and  in  some 
parts  at  least  the  slave  has  a  measure  of  protection.  In  the 
Malacca  Peninsula,  where  the  influence  of  Islam  is  strong,  the 
slave,  if  struck,  may  bring  his  master  into  court,  and  the  slave 
woman  who  bears  a  child  to  her  master  goes  free.^  The  Battaks 
also,  head-hunters  though  they  are,  put  a  limit  on  the  master's 
right  of  punishment  .3 

Thus  in  the  barbaric  world  we  already  find  degrees  of  right- 
lessness,  and  a  measure  of  legal  or  customarj^  protection,  at  least 
for  certain  classes  of  slaves.  This  alle\dation  is  often,  but  not 
always,*  traceable  to  the  influence  of  one  of  the  higher  rehgions. 
The  free  man  who  has  become  a  slave  is  not  wholly  cut  off  from 
membership  of  the  community,  but  retains  certain  recognized 
rights,  though  by  no  means  those  which  full  membership  confers. 
We  have  now  to  see  how  the  idea  of  slavery,  and  of  rightlessness 
generally,  fare  in  the  main  forms  of  civilization. 

4.  In  the  early  Babylonian  Empire  slavery  was  fully  de- 
veloped as  an  institution,  though  slaves  were  not  so  numerous  as 
they  afterwards  became.  The  slave  is  spoken  of  in  the  contracts  ^ 
not  as  a  man,  but  as  a  chattel.  Slaves  are  reckoned  in  a  transfer 
as  so  many  pieces  of  goods.  They  were  distinguished  by  a 
brand,  and,  if  they  were  runaways,  often  wore  fetters.^  They 
are  recruited  by  capture,  by  debt,  and  by  the  sale  of  wives  or 
children  by  husbands  or  fathers.  They  pass  on  a  man's  death 
to  his  heirs,  and  can  be  pawned,  given  away  or  sold.  With 
the  exception  of  debt-slaves,  the  Code  of  Hammurabi  makes  no 

1  Waitz,  V.  i.  143,  153.  «  ^5^  153-165. 

^  According  to  Letoixrneau  (p.  200),  the  master  may  punish,  but  not  put 
the  slaves  to  death.  According  to  Waitz  {op.  eit.,  p.  188),  pionishment 
must  be  inflicted  by  a  magistrate.  The  slave  becomes  a  concubine  by 
prolonged  cohabitation,  and  sometimes  a  legitimate  wife  (Letourneau, 
loc.  cit.).  Among  the  more  savage  Battaks  slaves  are  used  for  human 
sacrifices  (Letourneau,  p.  203). 

*  Apart  from  some  of  the  instances  already  given,  in  ancient  Mexico, 
where  captive  slaves  were  taken  principally  for  food,  domestic  slaves 
were  protected.  They  might  not  be  sold  without  their  consent,  nor 
chastised  without  previous  warning.  If  ill-treated  they  might  take  refuge 
with  the  king,  and  to  kill  them  was  a  capital  offence.  They  could  hold 
property  and  marry,  and  their  children  were  free  (Letourneau,  pp.  167, 
158 ;   cf.  also  Payne,  vol.  ii.  p.  485  note  3). 

*  The  contracts  yield  no  instance  of  more  than  four  in  a  family,  and 
great  houses  often  have  only  one  (Meissner,  AUhahylon.  Privatrecht,  pp. 
6-7). 

*  Meissner,  loc.  cit. 


CLASS   RELATIONS      .  281 

provision  for  their  protection  against  their  masters.  The  only 
case  in  which  it  prescribes  any  treatment  is  that  of  the  repudia- 
tion of  their  master,  in  which  the  penalty  assigned  is  the  com- 
paratively light  one  of  losing  an  ear.  In  practice,  however, 
it  would  seem  that  the  punishments  for  running  away  were 
severe.^  The  provisions  in  the  Code  for  cases  of  injury  to  a 
slave  by  some  one  other  than  his  master  are  full  of  significance. 
The  slave's  life  has  its  price,  but  clearly  the  price  goes  to  the 
master,  for  in  the  passages  which  refer  to  the  killing  of  a  slave 
the  law  is  that  the  offender  shall  render  slave  for  slave.  For 
example — 

"  If  a  doctor  has  treated  the  severe  wound  of  a  slave  of  a 
plebeian  with  a  bronze  lancet  and  has  caused  his  death,  he  shaU 
render  slave  for  slave. 

"If  he  has  opened  his  abscess  with  a  bronze  lancet  and  has 
made  him  lose  his  eye,  he  shall  pay  money,  half  his  price."  ^ 

Similarly,  the  defaulting  builder  who  causes  a  free  man's  death 
is  punished  by  the  law  of  retaliation,  but  if  it  is  a  slave  who 
dies  "  he  shall  give  slave  for  slave."  ^  This  is  pleasant  for  the 
master,  but  of  no  particular  value  to  the  slave,  and  so  when 
sec.  199  says  that  if  a  man  "has  caused  the  loss  of  the  eye  of 
a  gentleman's  servant,  or  has  shattered  the  limb  of  a  gentleman's 
servant,  he  shall  pay  half  his  price,"  we  may  assume  that  it  is 
the  owner  who  benefits.'*  The  loss  of  life  or  limb  by  a  slave  is 
loss  to  the  master,  and  is  made  good  by  compensating  liim — 
so  completely  is  the  slave  his  chattel.^  Debt-slaves,  however, 
were,  as  has  been  noticed,  in  a  more  favourable  position.  Their 
bondage  is  limited  to  three  years.  If  a  man  has  a  debt,  says 
clause  117,  "  and  he  has  given  his  wife,  his  son,  his  daughter, 
for  the  money,  or  has  handed  them  over  to  work  off  the  debt,  for 
three  years  they  shall  work  in  the  house  of  their  buyer  or  ex- 
ploiter, in  the  fourth  year  he  shall  fix  their  liberty."  Further, 
the  person  seized  by  a  creditor  in  distraint  is  protected  by 
retaliation  or  price,  according  as  he  is  a  free  man  or  slave.^ 

^  Meissner,  loc.  cit.,  and  De  Servitude,  p.  2. 

2  Hammurabi,  sees.  219,  220.  ^  Qp.  cit.,  sec.  231. 

*  Compare  the  clauses  dealing  with  miscarriage,  213,  214  :  "  If  he  has 
struck  a  ixian's  maidservant,  and  cavised  her  to  drop  that  which  is  in  her 
womb,  he  shall  pay  two  shekels  of  silver.  If  that  maidservant  has  died, 
he  shall  pay  one-third  of  a  mina  of  silver." 

^  Notwithstanding  the  bad  legal  position  of  slaves,  the  code  contemplates 
the  marriage  of  slaves  with  free  women,  sec.  175. 

*  Sec.  116.  The  clause  contemplates  distraint  upon  the  person  only 
(Dareste,  Jo^irnal  des  Savants,  Oct.  1902,  p.  526),  and  apparently  the  seizure 
of  the  son  or  slave  of  the  actual  debtor. 


282  JMORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

In  practice,  the  position  of  the  Babylonian  slave  was  probably 
much  more  favourable  than  it  appears  in  legal  theory.  In  the 
records  of  the  New  Kingdom,  slaves  often  appear  as  principals 
in  business  transactions.  They  carry  on  trades  or  businesses, 
such  as  banking,  and  have  a  'peculium  which  is  virtually  assured 
to  them,  though  in  law  it  may  be  their  master's,  and  for  wliich 
they  pay  a  yearly  tribute  to  the  owner.  Out  of  this  peculium 
some  slaves,  if  not  all,  might  buy  back  their  liberty.^  We  find 
them  entering  into  contracts  with  other  slaves  and  even  with 
free  men,  suing  and  sued  at  law,  and  in  many  ways  acting  as 
though  free.^  On  the  other  hand,  they  might  be  branded.  The 
rich  Itti-Marduk-Balatu  buys  two  slaves,  one  marked  on  the 
ears  and  the  eyes  and  one  who  is  simply  described  as  branded, 
for  three  mince.^  This  same  great  banker  disposes  of  a  slave 
girl  to  one  purchaser  after  another  for  immoral  purposes,  and  a 
contract  selling  a  woman  to  a  brothel-keeper  is  preserved.*  The 
slave  girl  was  entirely  at  the  disposal  of  her  master,  and 
indeed,  if  he  totally  neglected  her,  it  was  held  that  she  would 
in  time  become  a  malevolent  being  with  demoniac  powers, 
against  whom  magical  conjurations  were  pronounced.^  Slaves 
were  freely  pawned,  given  away  and  sold.  Putting  all  the  facts 
together,  it  would  seem  that  there  were  different  classes  of 
slaves,  distinguished  in  practice  and  by  custom  if  not  in  law, 
and  that,  while  some  of  them  had  practical  enjoyment  of  various 
important  rights,  the  conception  of  chattel  slavery  had  by  no 
means  disappeared. 

Our  information  as  to  ancient  Egyptian  slavery  is  not  so 
precise  as  it  is  for  Babylon,  and  when  deahng  with  a  history 
extending  over,  perhaps,  four  or  five  thousand  years,  it  is  easy  to 
make  statements  which  would  be  true  of  one  period,  but  would 
not  hold  of  others.  Some  broad  features,  however,  appear 
tolerably  constant.  The  main  sources  of  recruitment  of  slaves 
in  the  full  sense  of  the  term  were  capture  and  the  slave  trade. 
The  conquering  Egyptians  did  not  always  kill  all  their  male 
captives,  but  frequently  took  them  alive,  and  throughout  their 
history  down  to  the  New  Kingdom  frequently  organized  warlike 
expeditions  or  razzias  for  the  purpose  of  slave-hunting.^    Prisoners 

1  Oppert,  Condition  des  Esclaves  a  Babylone,  p.  4. 

2  Kohler  and  Peiser,  Aus  dem  babylonischen  Rechtsleben,  hft.  i.  1 ; 
ii.  6. 

*  Meissner,  De  Servitute,  p.  20. 

*  Kohler  and  Peiser,  op.  cit.,  iv.  28-29. 

*  Maspero,  Daivn  of  Civilization,  p.  735. 

*  See  above,  chap.  vi.  pp.  247-248,  and  frequent  references  in  Bieasted's 
Ancient  Records. 


CLASS   RELATIONS  283 

were  taken  for  service  on  the  public  works/  or  to  the  harems, 
and  it  appears  from  the  Tell-el-Amarna  letters  that,  in  addition 
to  thousands  of  female  slave  captives,  there  was  a  regular 
tribute  of  girls  from  various  places,^  On  the  pubhc  works,  the 
pyramids,  the  great  temples  and  palaces,  the  labour  and  lives  of 
the  captives  were  prodigally  spent.  Rameses  IV.,  in  one  expedi- 
tion for  transporting  great  blocks  of  granite,  employed  5000 
common  soldiers,  800  barbarian  mercenaries,  2000  bond-servants 
of  the  temples  and  200  officers.  When  foreign  captives  were  not 
available  the  Pharaohs  employed  their  subjects.^ 

An  idea  of  the  number  of  slaves  in  Egypt  may  be  formed 
from  the  fact  that  in  the  cause  of  thirty  years  Rameses  III. 
presented  113,433  to  the  temples  alone.*  These  slaves  were 
apparently  entirely  at  the  disposal  of  their  master,  who  removed 
them  from  place  to  place,  sold  them,  used  them  as  he  pleased, 
pursued  them  if  they  succeeded  in  escaping,  and  had  the  right 
of  re-capturing  them  as  soon  as  he  received  information  of  their 
whereabouts.  They  worked  for  him  under  their  overseers' 
orders,  receiving  no  regular  wages,  and  with  no  hope  of  recover- 
ing their  liberty.^  The  captives,  however,  apparently  inter- 
married frequently  with  natives,  and  had  families  and  descendants 
who,  at  the  end  of  two  or  three  generations,  became  assimilated 
with  the  indigenous  races,  and  passed  into  the  condition  of 
serfdom.  How  far  this  serfdom  extended,  and  what  classes 
were  free,  it  is  difficult  to  say  with  precision.^  Erman  points 
out  that  in  the  early  Empire,  if  we  went  only  by  the  monuments 
and  representations  in  the  tombs,  we  might  conclude  that  there 
was  no  intermediate  class  betAveen  the  great  men  in  the  kingdom, 
the  priests  and  officers,  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  crowd  of 
labourers  and  serfs  on  the  other ;  but  probably  there  must  have 
been  some  middle  class  which  helped  to  bring  Egyptian  art  and 
handicraft  to  their  pitch  of  perfection.'    In  the  New  Kingdom 

1  Diodorus  describes  the  suffering  of  captive  slaves,  including  women 
and  old  men,  in  the  Nubian  gold  mines.  His  description  refers  to  the 
times  of  the  Ptolemies,  but  there  is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  things  had  got 
any  worse  under  the  rule  of  the  Greeks  (Erman,  Life  in  Ancient  Egypt, 
463;    Diodorus,  iii.  11). 

*  Flinders  Petrie,  History  of  Egypt,  vol.  ii.  p.  274. 

^  Erman,  p.  476.  *  Maspero,  p.  326. 

^  Maspero,  loc.  cit.  In  a  large  measvu^e  the  slave  work  was  done  in  the 
regular  workhouses,  or  ergastula.  For  the  emploj^ment  of  bondwomen  in 
these  places,  see  W.  Max  Miiller,  Liebespoesie,  p.  6. 

*  Inscriptions  of  the  Old  Kingdom  bequeath  or  transfer  the  "  people  "  on 
the  land  along  with  the  small  cattle  (Breasted,  i.  77,  91,  etc.). 

'  Erman,  pp.  100,  101.  On  the  other  hand,  from  the  calculations  of 
Breasted  (iv.  98)  it  appears  that  not  more  than  two  per  cent,  of  the 
population  were  temple  property  in  the  time  of  Rameses  III. 


284  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

the  peasant  serfs  were  strictly  part  of  the  property  of  the  crown, 
or  the  temple  to  which  the  land  belonged.     They  were  despised 
by  the   scribes,   and  their  condition  is  the  subject  of  many 
contemporary  descriptions  implying  abject  servility. 
The  following  verses  refer  to  the  slaves — 

"  The  poor  child  is  only  brought  up, 
That  he  may  be  torn  from  his  mother's  arms ; 
As  soon  as  he  comes  to  man's  estate. 
His  bones  are  beaten  like  those  of  a  donkey ; 
He  is  driven,  he  has  indeed  no  heart  in  his  body."  * 

Even  more  graphic  are  the  descriptions  in  the  SalUer 
papyrus — 

"  The  stone-cutter,  who  seeks  his  living  by  working  in  all  kinds 
of  durable  stone,  when  at  last  he  has  earned  something,  and  his 
two  arms  are  worn  out,  he  stops;  but  if  at  sunrise  he  remain 
sitting,  his  legs  are  tied  to  his  back.  .  .  .  When  the  (mason's) 
work  is  quite  finished,  if  he  has  bread,  he  returns  home,  and  his 
children  have  been  beaten  unmercifully  (during  his  absence). 
The  weaver  within  doors  is  worse  off  there  than  a  woman; 
squatting,  his  knees  against  his  chest,  he  does  not  breathe.  If 
during  the  day  he  slackens  weaving,  he  is  bound  fast  as  the 
lotuses  of  the  lake ;  and  it  is  by  giving  bread  to  the  doorkeeper 
that  the  latter  permits  him  to  see  the  light."  ^ 

As  in  other  ancient  civihzation  debt  was  probably  one  source 
of  slavery.  At  any  rate,  under  the  New  Kingdom  we  have  con- 
tracts of  slavery  in  which  a  man  or  woman  acknowledges  him- 
or  herself  as  the  slave  of  another.  All  his  or  her  property  belonged 
to  the  master,  and  the  status  might  be  hereditary,^  but  to  judge 
from  the  wording,  which  is  nearly  the  same  as  that  of  adoption, 
this  form  of  servitude  was  easy.  Documents  relating  to  the 
sale  of  slaves  from  the  same  period  are  quite  different  in  tone. 
We  may  suppose  that  in  accepting  servitude  a  man  might  retain 
certain  rights  which  would  not  belong  to  a  captive  or  hereditary 
slave.* 

More  than  this,  it  would  seem  that  even  the  free  man,  who 
was  unrestricted  in  his  power  to  move  about  and  dispose  of 
himself  and  his  labour,  was  insecure  unless  he  had  his  master, 

J  Erman,  p.  128.  ^  Maspero,  p.  312. 

"  I  am  thy  slave  for  ever.  Nevermore  shall  I  be  able  to  act  as  nembe 
(perhaps  debtor,  or  tenant)  to  thee  .  .  .  together  with  my  children  that 
are  born  and  those  who  shall  be  born  to  us,  and  all  that  belongeth  to  us 
(Griffith,  Rylands  Papyri,  iii.  52,  cf.  56). 

*  Griffith,  iii.  58,  59. 


CLASS  RELATIONS  285 

who  would  afford  to  him  protection.     Egyptian  society,  in  fact, 
was  organized  upon  a  feudal  basis. 

"  From  the  top  to  the  bottom  of  the  social  scale  every  free 
man  acknowledged  a  master,  who  secured  to  him  justice  and 
protection  in  exchange  for  his  obedience  and  fealty.  The  moment 
an  Egyptian  tried  to  withdraw  himself  from  this  subjection,  the 
peace  of  his  life  was  at  an  end;  he  became  a  man  without  a 
master,  and  .  .  .  without  a  recognized  protector.  .  .  .  Any  one 
might  stop  him  on  the  way,  steal  his  cattle,  merchandise  and 
property  on  the  most  trivial  pretext,  and  if  he  attempted  to 
protest,  might  beat  him  with  almost  certain  impunity."  ^ 

Further,  it  is  only  in  a  qualified  sense  that  freedom  can  be 
spoken  of  at  all  in  relation  to  a  country  governed  as  Egypt  was. 
As  against  the  king  or  a  great  feudal  lord,  the  Egyptian  peasant 
often,  if  nominally  free  and  possessed  of  his  own  plot  of  land, 
was  without  defence  and  without  recognized  rights.  The  tax- 
gatherer  was  in  ancient  Egypt  what  he  remained  to  the  Modern 
Period.  Here  is  the  description  of  him  true  to  the  life  in  the 
Salher  papj^rus.^ 

"  The  scribe  steps  out  of  the  boat  at  the  landing-place  to  levy 
the  tithe,  and  there  come  the  keepers  of  the  doors  of  the  granary 
with  cudgels  and  the  negroes  with  ribs  of  palm-leaves,  who  come 
crying  :  '  Come  now,  corn  !  '  There  is  none,  and  they  throw 
the  cultivator  full  length  upon  the  ground;  bound,  dragged  to 
the  canal,  they  fling  him  in  head  first;  his  wife  is  bound  with 
him,  his  children  are  put  in  chains ;  the  neighbours,  in  the  mean- 
time, leave  him,  and  fly  to  save  their  grain." 

The  system  of  forced  labour  was  no  less  oppressive  to  the 
peasantry  than  that  of  the  collection  of  taxes.  The  slaves  were 
insufiicient  to  cultivate  the  royal  and  seignorial  lands,  and  the 
balance  of  the  work  fell  upon  the  neighbouring  peasantry,  none 
being  exempt  except  the  destitute,  soldiers  on  ser\^ce,  with  their 
famiUes,  certain  public  employes  and  servitors  of  the  temple. 
The  work  was  hard,  and  enforced  by  the  stick,  and  not  only 
did  it  recur  at  regular  periods,  but  in  addition  there  were 
irregular  corvees  whenever  it  suited  the  king  or  lord  to  demand 
them.^ 

1  ib.,  309.  ^  ib.,  331. 

^  ib.,  333,  etc.  Most  of  our  information  refers  to  the  Ptolemaic  period, 
but  the  practice  was  undoubtedly  more  ancient,  being  referred  to  in 
inscriptions  of  the  Middle  Empire.  "  The  entire  Oryx  nome  laboured  for 
me,"  says  Ameni  (12th  Dynasty— Breasted,  i.  252).  "The  rod  is  in  my 
hand;  be  not  idle,"  says  the  taskmaster  to  the  builders  under  the  18th 
Dynasty  (Breasted,  ii.  293). 


286  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

The  slave,  properly  so  called,  was  not  indeed  wholly,  oi,  at 
any  rate,  not  at  all  times,  destitute  of  rights.  According  to 
Diodorus  liis  murder  was  punished  viith  death,  the  object  of  the 
law  being,  in  the  view  of  the  Greek  liistorian,  to  keep  people 
from  bad  actions  not  through  differences  of  fortune,  but  rather 
from  the  nature  of  the  actions  themselves,  and  at  the  same  time 
to  accustom  a  man  by  care  for  slaves  to  avoid  far  more  all 
offences  against  free  men.^  This  is  a  thoroughly  Greek  inter- 
pretation of  the  facts.  It  would  probably  be  truer  to  say  that 
in  a  despotic  land  like  Egypt  the  distinction  between  free  man 
and  slave  before  the  law  was  of  less  account  than  in  a  civic  state. 
The  king  was  by  Egyptian  principle  master  of  the  whole  land 
of  Egjrpt,  owTier  of  all  property  and  lord  of  all  men  who  dwelt 
therein.  The  Egyptian  recognized  duties  to  dependents,  as 
appears  from  pleadings  in  the  Book  of  the  Dead,  in  which  the 
deceased  denies  that  he  has  oppressed  those  under  him.^  But 
these  are  rather  the  duties  of  benevolent  consideration  than  of 
legal  right.  Egypt  is  a  typical  Oriental  monarchy,  a  country 
in  which  it  may  be  rather  said  that  all  classes  were  rightless 
than  that  slaves  were  distinguished  from  free  men  by  the  lack 
of  rights. 

5.  The  history  of  slavery  among  the  Hebrews  is  interesting, 
both  for  the  strong  distinction  made  between  Jew  and  Gentile, 
and  still  more  for  the  progress  which  we  can  trace  in  law  and 
custom  affecting  the  position  of  the  slave.  According  to  the 
later  law  all  the  Canaanites  ought  to  have  been  utterly  destroyed 
upon  the  conquest,  but  this  represents  an  ideal  of  barbarity 
which  there  is  no  reason  to  think  was  ever  reahzed,  and  the 
narrative  itself  admits  as  much,  especially  in  the  case  of  the 
Gibeonites,  who  became  "hewers  of  wood  and  drawers  of  water."  ^ 
Whether  by  capture  or  by  purchase  Gentiles  clearly  became 
slaves,  and  the  law  ended  by  regarding  the  Gentile  as  the  only 
slave  whom  a  Hebrew  ought  in  strict  propriety  to  hold.  Further, 
though  the  stranger  is  constantly  recommended  to  considera- 
tion and  just  treatment,  laws  for  the  protection  of  the  slave 

^  Diodorus,  i.  76-77. 

2  In  another  well-known  pleading,  the  soul  protests  according  to  some 
translators  that  he  has  not  caused  harm  to  be  done  to  the  servant  by  his 
chief.  This,  if  correct,  is  an  interesting  recognition  of  a  social  duty  to 
the  slave,  but  the  translation  is  uncertain,  and  Mr.  Griffith  renders  it  : 
"I  have  not  turned  the  servant  against  his  master"  [World's  Literature, 
p.  5321). 

2  Further,  Solomon  levied  tribute  of  bond  service  upon  all  the  Canaanites 
left,  but  not  upon  the  Israelites   (1  Kings  ix.  21). 


CLASS  RELATIONS  287 

apparently  apply  in  the  main  to  the  Hebrew  only.  We  pass 
now  to  the  consideration  of  these  laws. 

In  the  earliest  code,^  the  period  of  service  for  a  male  Hebrew 
is  limited  to  six  years,  "  In  the  seventh  he  shall  go  out  free  for 
nothing."  But  the  case  is  contemplated  that  his  master  has 
given  him  a  wife,  and  in  that  case  she,  with,  her  children,  would 
remain  with  her  master,  and  he  might  therefore  choose  to  abide 
also.  If  so,  "  then  his  master  shall  bring  him  unto  God  (that  is, 
to  the  temple)  and  shall  bring  him  to  the  door  or  unto  the  door- 
post, and  his  master  shall  bore  his  ear  through  with  an  awl ;  and 
he  shall  serve  liim  for  ever."  ^  The  Hebrew  father  might  sell 
his  children  into  slavery,  and  the  daughter  who  had  thus  been 
sold  was  not  released  in  the  seventh  year,  as  were  the  men- 
servants  ;  but  she  might  be  redeemed,  and  if  not  suitably  married 
to  the  son  of  her  master,  regain  her  freedom.  As  to  general 
protection,  "  If  a  man  smite  his  servant  or  his  maid  with  a  rod 
and  he  die  under  his  hand,  he  shall  surely  be  punished  " — in 
what  way  is  not  stated.  The  protection  given  to  the  slave  would 
be  more  valuable  if  it  were  not  for  the  quahfying  clauses  wliich 
follow.  "  Notwithstanding,  if  he  continue  a  day  or  tAvo  he  shall 
not  be  punished ;  for  he  is  his  money."  '  This  is  chattel  slavery 
partially  ashamed  of  itself.  The  code  further  provides  that 
either  a  male  or  female  slave  should  obtain  freedom  for  the  loss 
of  an  eye  or  a  tooth.  As  in  the  Code  of  Hammurabi,*  the  master 
takes  the  value  of  the  servant  when  he  is  killed  by  another  man's 
ox,  the  price  being  fixed  at  thirty  shekels  of  silver.  It  is  a 
noteworthy  inconsistency  that  retahation  is  to  be  exercised 
upon  the  ox  in  this  instance — that  is  to  say,  it  is  to  be  stoned 
to  death.  But  where  the  ox  gores  a  free  man  or  woman,  re- 
taliation can  also  be  exercised  upon  the  master  (supposing  he 
has  been  guilty  of  neghgence)  unless  he  can  buy  himself  off. 
The  distinction  is  significant  of  the  true  position  of  the  slave  as 
a  chattel  whose  price  must  be  made  good,  rather  than  as  a  human 
being  for  whom  retaliation  can  be  demanded. 

The  code  of  Deuteronomy  does  not  make  any  fundamental 
change  in  the  position  of  the  slave,  though  here,  as  in  other 
respects,  it  breathes  a  more  humane  spirit.  In  this  code  the 
Fourth  Commandment  reads  differently,  the  remark  being  in- 
serted, "  that  thy  man-servant  and  thy  maid-servant  may  rest 
as  well  as  thou."     The  insertion  of  this  considerate  reason  is 

*  Exod.  xx.-xxiii,  ^  Exod.  xxi.  2-6. 

3  Exod.  xxi.  20.  Here  the  qualification  "  Hebrew  "  does  not  appear,  but 
it  is  perhaps  to  be  understood  from  its  use  earlier  in  the  chapter. 

*  Hammurabi,  src.  252. 


288  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

thoroughly  in  keeping  with  the  character  of  the  prophetic  code. 
The  Hebrew  slave  is  still  to  be  released  in  the  seventh  year,  and 
released  with  gifts.  "  Wlien  thou  sendest  him  out  free  from 
thee  thou  shalt  not  let  him  go  away  empty.  Thou  shalt  furnish 
him  liberally  out  of  thy  flock,"  and  so  forth.  "  Thou  shalt 
remember  that  thou  wast  a  bondman  in  the  land  of  Egypt  and 
the  Lord  thy  God  redeemed  thee." 

The  provisions  as  to  the  marriage  of  the  slave  to  a  wife  pro- 
vided by  his  master  disappear,  and  the  Hebrew  woman  is  to  be 
free  as  well  as  the  man.  Nor  is  there  here  any  reference  to  the 
Bale  of  daughters.  The  man-stealer  is  (as  in  the  earUer  code) 
to  be  put  to  death,  but  apparently  only  when  offending  against 
an  Israelite ;  ^  and  by  a  not  infrequent  inconsistency  the  fugi- 
tive slave  is  not  to  be  given  up,  but  "  shall  dwell  with  thee,  in 
the  midst  of  thee,  in  the  place  which  he  shall  choose  within  one 
of  thy  gates  where  it  liketh  him  best.  Thou  shalt  not  oppress 
him."2 

In  the  priestly  code  the  most  definite  change  is  one  which 
appears  at  first  sight  reactionary.  The  slave  is  now  to  be  re- 
leased, not  in  the  seventh  year,  but  in  the  year  of  Jubilee ;  yet, 
in  other  respects,  the  code  is  considerate  to  the  Hebrew  slave, 
and  indeed  denies  that  he  ought  to  be  a  bondman  at  all.  "  If 
thy  brother  be  waxen  poor,"  the  true  duty  of  the  more  fortunate 
Hebrew  is  to  uphold  him.  "  As  a  stranger  and  a  sojourner 
shall  he  live  with  thee,"  but  if  he  "  sell  himself  unto  thee,  thou 
shalt  not  take  him  to  serve  as  a  bond-servant.  As  a  hired 
servant  and  as  a  sojourner  he  shall  be  with  thee ;  he  shall 
sojourn  with  thee  until  the  year  of  jubile."  ^ 

It  is  the  Gentile — and  here  is  the  true  spirit  of  ancient  slavery 
— it  is  the  Gentile  who  is  the  appropriate  bondman.  "  As  for 
thy  bondmen  and  bondmaids  ...  of  the  nations  that  are  round 
about  you,  of  them  shall  ye  buy  bondmen  and  bondmaids. 
Moreover,  of  the  children  of  the  strangers  that  do  sojourn  among 
you,  of  them  shall  ye  buy."  "  Over  your  brethren  ye  shall  not 
rule  with  rigour." 

Thus  the  Levitican  code  comes  as  near  as  possible  to  the 
abolition  of  Hebrew  slavery.  Nevertheless,  it  lengthens  the 
term  from  seven  years  to  fifty.  The  explanation  of  tiiis  change 
is  probably  to  be  found  in  a  passage  in  Jeremiah,*  from  which  it 
appears  that  the  provision  for  releasing  the  slaves  in  the  seventh 
year  was  practically,  if  not  avowedly,  a  novelty  in  Josiah's  time. 
It  is,  of  course,  treated  by  Jeremiah  as  having  belonged  to  the 

^  Deut.  xxiv.  7.  ^  Deut.  xxiii.  15. 

'  Leviticus  xxv.  35,  39,  40,  *  Jeremiah  xxxiv. 


CLASS  RELATIONS  289 

original  Covenant ;  but  nevertheless  it  appears  from  his  account 
tliPvt  King  Zedekiah  proclaimed  this  liberty  as  a  new  thing, 
doubtless  in  accordance  with  the  recently  promulgated  code  of 
Deuteronomy;  and  that,  while  it  was  temporaril}^  obeyed,  a 
relapse  very  speedily  followed  for  wliich  punishment  by  pesti- 
lence and  famine  is  proclaimed.  It  would  seem,  therefore,  that 
the  law  of  Jubilee,  wliile  probably  of  ancient  date  and  a  survival 
of  communal  tenure  so  far  as  regards  land,  is  applied  to  slaves  in 
the  hope  of  rendering  the  benevolent  intentions  of  Deuteronomy 
a  practicpJ  reality.^ 

In  any  case,  regarded  as  a  whole,  the  development  of  Hebrew 
law  and  custom  in  relation  to  slavery  is  an  interesting  example, 
on  the  one  hand,  of  the  amelioration  of  the  slave's  position  by 
a  distinct  touch  of  humanitarian  sentiment ;  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  of  the  persistence,  owing  to  the  dominance  of  an  exclusive 
national  religion,  of  the  deep  distinction  between  the  domestic 
slave  and  the  foreign. 

6.  India. — In  India,  slavery  was  already  known  in  the  Vedic 
age.  The  institution  persisted  in  the  Brahmanic  period ,  although 
its  existence  was  denied  by  the  Greek  travellers  of  Alexander's 
time.  Whether  the  Greeks  only  saw  certain  districts  in  winch 
slaves  were  few  or  were  misled  by  the  absence  of  rural  slavery 
is  not  certain,  but  the  recognition  of  slavery  as  an  institution  in 
the  Brahmanic  law-books  is  perfectly  clear.  Manu  distinguishes 
slaves  of  seven  kinds — 

"  There  are  slaves  of  seven  kinds,  (viz.)  he  who  is  made  a 
captive  under  a  standard,  he  who  serves  for  his  daily  food,  he 
who  is  born  in  the  house,  he  who  is  bought  and  he  who  is  given, 
he  who  is  inherited  from  ancestors,  and  he  who  is  enslaved  by 
way  of  punishment." 

He  proceeds  to  declare  that,  like  the  wife  and  the  son,  the 
slave  has  no  property.  The  wealth  which  he  earns  is  acquired 
for  him  to  whom  he  belongs. 

^  The  picture  of  Hebrew  slavery  would  not  be  complete  without  a 
reference  to  the  attitude  of  the  wise  man  in  Ecclesiasticus.  He  bids  his 
reader  treat  a  good  servant  well,  and  not  defra,ud  him  of  release.  This,  of 
course,  with  an  eye  on  the  year  of  Jubilee  (chap.  vii.  21).  Indeed,  ho 
would  have  him  treated  as  a  brother  :  "  For  thou  hast  need  of  him  as  of 
thine  own  soul."  And  a  more  practical  reminder  follows,  which  may  serve 
to  help  us,  too,  to  imderstand  a  factor  which  must  always  have  tended  to 
mitigate  the  slave's  lot  :  "  If  thou  treat  him  evil  and  he  run  away  from 
thee,  which  way  wilt  thou  go  to  seek  him  ?  "  On  the  other  hand,  you  should 
be  severe  with  a  bad  servant,  and  if  he  be  not  obedient,  put  on  him  heavy 
fetters.  Making  a  bad  servant's  side  bleed  is  one  of  the  list  of  things  of 
which  a  man  ought  not  to  be  ashamed  (chap.  xlii.  5). 
U 


290  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

"  A  Brahmana  may  contidently  seize  the  good  of  (his)  Sudra 
(slave) ;  for,  as  that  (slave)  can  have  no  property,  his  master 
may  take  his  possessions." 

Quarrels  with  slaves  are  to  be  avoided.  They  should  be 
treated,  Manu  says,  "  as  one's  shadow."  If  offended  by  them  one 
should  "  bear  it  without  resentment."  ^  Much  more  moderate 
rules  for  their  punishment  are  laid  down  than  by  the  Hebrew 
lawgiver.^ 

But  slavery  is  of  very  secondary  importance  in  Hindu  society 
as  compared  with  caste.  It  would  be  out  of  place  here  to  attempt 
a  full  discussion  of  the  origin  and  nature  of  caste  in  India.  We 
have  seen  the  more  elementary  forms  of  the  institution  in  other 
races.  In  India  it  reached  an  altogether  abnormal  develop- 
ment, which  is  of  more  interest  for  the  student  of  Hindu  society 
than  for  the  general  liistory  of  etliics.  Caste  did  not  exist 
in  the  primitive  society  of  Vedic  times,  though  conditions  out 
of  wliich  it  in  all  probability  arose  were  already  present.  The 
Aryans  found  themselves  a  conquering  white  minority  among 
the  subject  dark-skinned  population,  and  the  contrast  between 
the  Aryan  and  the  Dasyu  is  already  deeply  marked.  "  Varna," 
the  Sanskrit  word  for  caste,  means  originally  colour,  and  some 
at  least  of  the  Sanskrit  authorities  adopted  the  distinction 
of  colour  as  their  explanation  of  the  origin  of  the  institution.^ 
In  fact,  towards  the  close  of  the  Vedic  age  it  would  seem  that 
the  institution  has  taken  shape.  Four  castes  are  mentioned  in 
the  Purusha-Sukta,  one  of  the  latest  hymns  found  in  the  Vedic 
collection  :  *  "  When  they  formed  Purusha,  into  how  many  parts 
did  they  divide  liim  ?  Wliat  was  his  mouth  ?  What  were  his 
arms  ?  What  were  called  liis  thighs  and  his  feet  ?  "  The 
answer  is  that  the  Brahman  issued  from  his  mouth,  the  Ksha- 
triya  from  his  arms,  the  Vaisya  from  his  thighs,  and  the  Sudra 
from  his  feet.  The  first  three,  the  priests,  the  warriors,  and 
the  farmers,  were  all  Aryans  and  twice-born  men.  The  Sudras 
alone  were  the  once-born  and  the  slaves  of  all  the  rest.  These 
were  the  four  original  and  legitimate  castes.  The  mass  of  lower- 
caste  men  were  held  to  have  issued  from  various  mixtures  be- 
tween the  four  original  orders.  Without  attempting  here  to  go 
into  the  Brahmanic  theories  of  the  origin  and  nature  of  caste  in 
general,  or  dweUing  on  this  occasion  upon  the  position  of  the 
Brahman,  it  may  suffice  to  quote  a  few  laws  from  Manu  iilus- 

I-  Manu,  viii.  415,  416,  417;  iv.  185. 

»  See  above,  chap.  v.  p.  190 ;   Manu,  viii.  299-300. 

■''  Muir,  Sanscrit  Texts,  vol.  i.  p.  140. 

«  Muir,  i.  156,  157. 


CLASS  RELATIONS  291 

trating  the  position  of  the  Sudra,  which  tend  to  show  the  ethical 
analogy  between  a  caste  system  and  a  slave  system. 
The  Sudra  in  Manu  is  as  such  a  bom  slave. 

"  A  Sudra,  though  emancipated  by  his  master,  is  not  released 
from  servitude ;  since  that  is  innate  in  him,  who  can  set  him  free 
from  it  ?  "  1 

If  a  Brahman  requires  any  article  for  a  sacrifice  which  he 
camiot  find  handy,  "  he  may  take  at  liis  pleasure  two  or  three 
articles  from  the  house  of  a  Sudra,  for  a  Sudra  has  no  business 
with  sacrifices."  ^  To  kill  a  Sudra  is  a  minor  offence,  placed  in 
the  same  list  with  the  cutting  down  of  green  trees  for  firewood, 
neglecting  to  kindle  the  sacred  fires,  superintending  mines, 
steahng  grain,  etc.,  and  the  penance  for  killing  a  Sudra  is  to  give 
ten  white  cows  and  a  bull  to  a  Brahman.^  On  the  other  hand,  an 
assault  by  a  Sudra  upon  any  twice-born  man  is  punished  by 
mutilation  of  the  offending  limb.*  The  defamation  of  a  Brahman 
or  an  insult  to  a  twice-born  man  by  a  Sudra  is  punished  with 
equal  severity  :  "He  shall  have  his  tongue  cut  out,  for  he  is  of 
low  origin  "  ;  while,  "  if  he  arrogantly  teaches  Brahmanas  their 
duty,  the  king  shall  cause  hot  oil  to  be  poured  into  his  mouth  and 
into  his  ears."  ^ 

For  a  Sudra  to  have  anything  to  do  with  a  woman  of  the 
twice-born  caste  was  a  serious  offence,  but  as  to  marriage  with 
a  Sudra  woman,  Manu's  opinion  fluctuates.^  Lastly,  the  Sudras 
serve  as  scapegoats.  "  O  Takman,"  says  the  Atharva  Veda, 
addressing  the  demon  who  brings  fever,  "go  to  the  Mujavant 
or  further.  Attack  the  Sudra  woman,  the  teeming  one,  shake 
her,  0  Takman."'  The  relative  values  of  the  hves  of  men  of 
the  four  castes  are  summed  up.  "  One-fourth  (of  the  penance) 
for  the  murder  of  a  Brahmana  is  prescribed  (as  expiation)  for 
(intentionally)  kilhng  a  Kshatriya,  one-eighth  for  kilhng  a 
Vaisya ;  know  that  it  is  one-sixteenth  for  kilhng  a  virtuous 
Sudra."  « 

It  ought  only  to  be  subjoined  that  the  distinction  of  caste 

1  Manu,  viii.  414.  ^  Manu,  xi.  13.         «  ih.,  xi.  64,  65,  66,  67,  131. 

*  ih.,  viii.  279,  280.         "  ih.,  viii.  270,  272. 

*  In  one  place  (iii.  17)  the  Brahman  who  takes  a  Sudra  to  wife  will,  after 
death,  sink  into  hell ;  and  other  passages  equally  condemn  any  relations 
with  Sudra  women,  (e.gr.  iii.  191,  250).  But  in  other  places  marriage 
with  a  Sudra  is  contemplated,  and  merely  affects  inheritance.  In  ix.  151, 
the  son  of  the  Sudra  wife  is  to  take  one  share  of  the  estate  as  against  three 
shares  of  the  son  of  the  Brahman ;  but  in  sec.  160,  the  son  of  a  Sudra  is  not 
an  heir  at  all.  Commentators  explain  that  this  is  the  case  in  which  the 
Sudra  wife  is  not  legally  married. 

'  Duncker,  Hist,  of  Antiquity,  vol.  iv.  p.  281.  »  Manu,  xi.  127. 


292  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

was  a  matter  of  some  perplexity  to  moralists,  even  in  the  Brah- 
manic  age.  Among  the  different  accounts  of  castes  given  in  the 
Mahabharata  some  roundly  assert  that  character  makes  caste. 

Nahusha,  who  had  been  condemned  to  take  the  form  of  a 
serpent,  asks  Yudhishthira  the  question  :  "  Who  is  a  Brahman, 
and  what  is  the  object  of  knowledge  ?  "  Yudhishthira  replies  : 
"  The  man  in  whom  are  seen  truth,  liberality,  patience,  virtue, 
innocence,  devotion  and  compassion  " — he  is  a  Brahman  accord- 
ing to  the  religious  tradition.  The  serpent  answers,  "  But  in 
Sudras  also  we  meet  with  truth,  liberality,  calmness,  innocence, 
harmlessness  and  compassion,  O  Yudhishthira."  Yudhishthira 
replies  :  "  Whenever  a  Sudra  has  any  virtuous  characteristics, 
and  a  Brahman  lacks  it,  that  Sudra  will  not  be  really  a  Sudra, 
nor  that  Brahman  a  Brahman.  The  man  in  whom  this  virtuous 
character  is  seen  is  a  Brahman,  and  the  man  in  whom  it  is  not 
seen  is  a  Sudra."  The  serj)ent  proceeds  :  "If  you  regard  him 
only  as  a  Brahman  whom  his  conduct  makes  such,  then  caste 
is  of  no  avail  until  deeds  are  superadded  to  it."  Thus  pressed, 
Yudhishthira  admits  the  confusion  of  castes  in  the  actual  world, 
and  concludes  that  good  conduct  and  the  fulfilment  of  the  pre- 
scribed ceremonies  are  alike  necessary.^ 

Other  passages  declared  that  fundamentally  "  there  is  no 
difference  of  castes.  This  world,  having  been  at  first  created 
by  Brahma,  entirely  Brahmanic,  became  separated  into  castes 
in  consequence  of  works  "  ;  ^  and  the  speaker,  Bhrigu,  being  now 
asked  what  constitutes  membership  of  a  caste,  replies  that — 

He  who  is  pure,  consecrated  by  the  natal  and  other  initiatory 
ceremonies,  who  duly  studies  the  Veda,  practises  the  six  kinds  of 
works,  and  the  rites  of  purification,  who  eats  of  offerings,  is 
attached  to  his  religious  teacher,  is  constant  in  austerities,  and 
is  devoted  to  truth,  is  called  a  Brahman.  He  in  whom  are  seen 
truth,  liberality,  inoffensiveness,  innocence,  modesty,  compassion 
and  devotion,  is  declared  to  be  a  Brahman.  He  who  is  unclean, 
is  addicted  constantly  to  all  kinds  of  food,  performs  all  kinds 
of  work,  has  abandoned  the  Veda,  and  is  destitute  of  pure 
observances,  is  called  a  Sudra.^ 

Here  we  have  an  ethical  doctrine  of  equahty,  or — wliich  is 
the  same  tiling — of  distinction  by  merit  alone,  strictly  in  line 
with  the  teachings  of  Buddha,  in  whose  Order  there  was  no 
thought  of  caste,  and  for  whom  the  true  Brahman  was  he  who 
lived  the  perfectly  pure  and  holy  hfe. 

1  Summarized  from  Muir,  Sanscrit  Texts,  vol.  i.  p.  133-138. 
•  Muir,  i.  140.  *  Summ;arized  from  Muir,  i.  142. 


CLASS   RELATIONS  293 

7.  China.  -In  Clilua,  a  tradition  is  preserved  of  an  epoch  at 
which  there  was  no  slavery,  and  in  the  classical  book  of  poems, 
the  She-King,  there  is  little  that  points  definitely  to  the  exist- 
ence of  the  institution  in  its  strict  sense.  Few  prisoners  were 
taken  at  that  time,  and  therefore  it  was  very  possible  that 
slaves  were  also  few,  but  the  evidence  appears  clear  that  slavery 
did  exist  in  the  Chow  Djmasty.^  The  institution  is  certainly 
ancient,  and  even  at  the  present  day  general,  although  no 
doubt  far  less  important  than  in  some  other  countries.  Debt 
slavery  no  longer  exists,  and  in  the  pacific  land  of  China  war  has 
ceased  to  be  a  source  of  supply ;  but  the  slave-trade  is  general,^ 
and  the  sale  of  daughters  by  their  parents,  and  of  wives  by  their 
husbands,  particularly  in  times  of  famine,  is  a  rich  source  of 
recruitment  of  the  slave  class.  Kidnapping  is  also  frequent. 
The  slaves,  we  are  told,  are  generally  treated  well,  and  there  is 
that  social  equality  between  mistress  and  slave-girls  which  we 
so  commonly  find  in  the  East,  mitigating  the  harshness  of  legal 
institutions.  But  the  protection  of  the  slave  is  very  inadequate. 
It  is  true  that  the  master  has  not  the  power  of  life  and  death, 
but  the  punishment  for  kilhng  a  slave  is  only  the  bamboo.* 
Further,  if  death  is  caused  by  a  canonical  or  legitimate  punish- 
ment the  man  is  held  guiltless ;  *  branding,  we  are  told,  is  but  a 
small  part  of  the  punishment  of  a  slave  for  rumiing  away,^  while 
the  slave  who  strikes  his  master  is  liable  to  death  by  beheading. 

8.  Slavery,  like  polygamy  and  divorce,  was  an  institution  which 
Mohammed  found  fully  established  among  his  fellow-countrymen, 
which  he  dishked  and  set  himself  to  mitigate,  but  could  not 
attempt  to  aboush.  A  difference,  however,  is  made  between 
Moslem  and  non-Moslem  captives.  In  a  war  with  Moslems 
prisoners  were  not  enslaved.  If  the  prisoner  on  the  ba,ttlefield 
became  a  Moslem  he  might  not  be  killed,  but  according  to  the 
traditions  he  ought  even  to  be  set  free,  though  if  he  became 
a  Moslem  subsequently  he  remained  a  slave .^     The  holding  of 

^  Legge,  Prolegomena  to  the  She-King,  p.  166  and  footnote.  In  point  ot 
fact  there  are  passages  in  the  She-King  itself  which  can  hardly  admit  of 
two  interpretations  (vol.  ii.  part  ii.  book  iv.  ode  viii.  stanza  3). 

^  Douglas,  Society  in  China,  p.  346. 

"  The  punishment  applies  to  deliberate  murder,  or  mutilation  with  death 
as  the  result,  and  if  the  slave  is  innocent,  banishment  is  added  (Kohler, 
cited  by  Post,  Grimdriss,  i.  373). 

'-  If  an  innocent  slave  is  put  to  death,  his  wife  and  children  become  free 
(Ivohler,  cited  by  Post,  Orundriss,  i.  372). 

*  Douglas,  op.  cit.,  p.  350. 

"  But  according  to  Hidayah,  the  conversion  to  Islam  on  the  battlefield 
did  not  necessarily  save  a  man  from  slavery  (Hughes,  Dictionary  of 
Islam,  597). 


294  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

Moslem  slaves  was  not,  as  such,  proliibited,  but  their  emancipa- 
tion was  regarded  as  an  act  of  special  merit.  According  to  the 
tradition  :  "  Whosoever  frees  a  slave  who  is  a  Moslem,  God  vriH 
redeem  everj^  member  of  his  body  limb  for  limb  from  hell  fire."  ^ 
Mohammed  sought  mitigation  of  the  slave's  lot  by  ethical  rather 
than  legal  means.  The  slave  has  no  civil  liberty,  and  can  only 
possess  property  by  the  owner's  permission.  The  master's 
power  is  unlimited,  and  he  is  not  slain  for  the  murder  of  his 
slave.  He  has  unlimited  power  over  his  female  slaves ;  as  a 
matter  of  law  he  may  prostitute  them ;  he  may  give  a  slave  in 
marriage  to  whom  he  will,  though  he  may  not  annul  the  marriage 
when  once  completed. ^  On  the  other  hand,  the  Prophet  en- 
joins upon  Moslems  to  exercise  kindness  to  slaves,  forbids  the 
prostitution  of  slave-girls  as  a  rehgious  offence,  and  enjoins 
emancipation  whenever  a  slave  is  able  to  redeem  himself. 
"  When  a  slave  of  yours  has  money  to  redeem  his  bond,  then 
you  must  not  allow  him  to  come  into  your  presence  afterwards." 
"  Behaving  well  to  slaves  is  a  means  of  prosperity,  and  behav- 
ing ill  to  them  is  a  cause  of  loss."  "  ^Vhenever  any  one  of 
j-ou  is  about  to  beat  a  slave  and  the  slave  asks  pardon  in  the 
name  of  God,  then  mthhold  j^ourself  from  beating  him.  Feed 
your  slaves  -with  food  of  that  which  you  eat  and  clothe  them 
with  such  clothing  as  you  wear,  and  command  them  not  to 
do  that  wliich  they  are  unable."  Wrongful  punishment, 
which,  in  some  institutions,  as  we  have  seen,  is  a  legal  ground 
of  manumission,  was  held  by  Mohammed  to  be  a  moral  ground. 
"  He  who  beats  his  slave  without  fault  or  slaps  him  on  the 
face,  his  atonement  for  this  is  freeing  him."  As  an  illustration 
of  the  spirit  in  which  this  behest  was  conceived,  we  may  quote 
the  story  of  the  Cahph  Othman,  who,  having  twisted  his 
memlook's  ear,  bade  the  slave  t-nist  liis  oa^ti.^  A  further 
humane  provision  forbade  the  separation  of  mother  and  child  : 
"  Whoever  is  the  cause  of  separation  between  mother  and  child 
by  seUing  and  giving,  God  will  separate  him  from  his  friends  on 
the  day  of  resurrection."  * 

Conversely,  the  Prophet  had  certain  promises  for  the  dutiful 
slave  :    "  It  is  well  for  a  slave  who  regularly  worships  God  and 

^  Hughes,  Dictionary  of  Islam,  p.  597. 

*  If  a  slave-girl  has  a  child  by  her  master  she  becomes  free  at  his  death, 
while,  if  the  child  be  acknowledged  by  the  master,  she  becomes  free  there- 
upon {ib.,  597,  598), 

3  ib.,  599. 

*  Though  this  sajang  is  attributed  to  Mohammed,  it  is  said  by  Tabir  that 
"  we  used  to  sell  the  mothers  of  children  in  the  time  of  the  Prophet  and 
of  Abu  Bokr  but  Umar  forbade  it  in  his  time  "  (Hughes,  699), 


CLASS  RELATIO^^S  295 

discharges  his  master's  work  properly  "  ;  and  again  :  "  \Yhen  a 
slave  wishes  well  to  his  master  and  worsliips  God  well,  for  him 
are  double  rewards."  On  the  whole,  the  authorities  tell  us  that 
the  Prophet's  rules  of  good  treatment  are  observed.  Masters 
are  bound  to  maintain  their  slaves  or  emancipate  them.  To 
sell  a  slave  of  long  standing  is  considered  disgraceful,  and  female 
slaves  are  seldom  emancipated  without  being  provided  for. 
The  Eg3rptian  slaves  in  Lane's  time  were  numerous,  but  well 
cared  for,  and  ranked  socially  above  free  servants.  With  all 
these  mitigations  it  must  be  admitted  that  the  recognition  of 
the  slave  traffic  by  Mohammedanism  has  been,  and  is  to  this  day, 
a  curse  to  Africa  and  a  source  of  disturbance  to  the  world's 
pohtics. 

9.  Greece. — Like  the  Chinese,  the  Greeks  had  a  tradition  of  a 
prehistoric  epoch  in  which  there  were  no  slaves.^  But  in  the 
Homeric  epoch  we  find  slavery  in  full  s\\ing,  and  the  regular 
issue  of  the  capture  of  a  toMTi  is  that  the  men  should  be  slain 
and  the  women  enslaved.  Hector  knows — and  no  thought  is 
so  bitter  to  him — that  when  Troy  is  taken  and  he  himself  is 
slain,  it  will  be  Andromache's  fate  to  be  a  bondwoman  to  one 
of  her  conquerors.  Her  family  had  already  suffered  the  same 
fate.  The  s\nft -footed,  godhke  Achilles  had  destroj-ed  her 
father  and  her  seven  brothers,  and  had  carried  off  her  mother 
"  ^nth  the  rest  of  the  spoil,"  though  he  afterwards  set  her  free 
for  an  immense  ransom.  Now,  Hector  was  all  these  to  her,  but 
the  day  would  come  when  the  Argives  would  sack  the  sacred 
toAvn  of  Ihum  and  Hector  in  his  turn  be  taken  from  her,  and  it 
would  be  her  lot  to  fall  into  slavery.^  Apart  from  legitimate 
warfare,  piracy — which,  for  that  matter,  was  in  the  Homeric 
view  hardly  less  legitimate — was  a  frequent  source  of  slavery. 
Many  children  suffered  the  fate  of  Eumseus  the  s-nineherd, 
and  were  carried  off  by  the  pirate  and  sold  across  the  wine-dark 
sea.  Slavery  was  hereditary,  and  the  slave  might  be  sold  or 
put  to  death,  as  the  faithless  female  slaves  were  hanged  by 
Telemachus.^  On  the  other  hand,  slaves  might  own  houses  and 
property  of  their  ovm  and  live  in  the  practical  freedom  in  which 
we  find  the  goodly  Eumaeus.  Lastly,  it  should  be  noted  that 
the  slaves  were  not  the  only  rightless  class,  for  the  stranger  is 
also  outside  the  protection  of  the  law,  though,  even  if  a  beggar 
and  a  fugitive,  he  is  under  the  shelter  of  Zeus  so  long  as  he  is  a 
guest  and  claims  the  right  of  hospitalitj'. 

1  Herodt.,  vi.  137;  Busolt,  Handbuch,  p.  11.  *  Iliad,  vi.  414-496. 

'  Odyssey,  xxii.,  Tr.  Butcher  and  Lang,  p.  374. 


296  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

In  the  rural  districts  of  Greece  slavery  remained  rare. 
Pericles  lays  stress  on  the  fact  that  the  Peloponnesians  are 
autourgoi — cultivators  of  their  own  lands.^  It  is  even  said  that 
slave-holding  was  forbidden  in  Phocis  and  Lokris  doAvn  to  the 
fourth  century .2  But  in  the  more  developed  states  the  growth 
of  wealth  meant,  as  always  in  the  ancient  world,  increase  in  the 
number  of  slaves  and — what  was  most  fatal — the  behef  that 
work  was  not  compatible  with  the  dignity  of  a  free  man. 
Slavery  remained  a  recognized  fate  for  prisoners  of  war  as  an 
alternative  to  massacre,  and  even  Plato  could  only  hope  that 
Greeks  would  abandon  the  practice  of  enslaving  fellow -Greeks, 
restricting  themselves  to  the  barbarian,  who,  as  Aristotle  held, 
was  the  only  natural  slave.  But  through  the  institution  of  debt 
slavery  the  poorer  classes  in  each  state  were  frequently  menaced 
with  falling  into  enslavement.  Before  Solon's  time  the  land 
was  tilled  by  poor  cultivators  for  the  rich,  and  on  their  failure 
to  pay  five-sixths  of  their  produce  to  the  landlord,  they  fell 
into  the  position  of  serfs  along  with  their  ^vives  and  children. 
The  proliibition  of  debt  slavery  and  the  pledging  of  the  person 
by  Solon  was  thus  the  salvation  of  civil  freedom  for  Athens ;  and 
with  the  progress  of  Athenian  democracj^  although  it  was  a 
democracy  of  free  men  only,  the  position  of  the  slaves  was 
indirectly  improved.  The  master  had  the  right  of  corporal 
punishment  and  of  branding,  but  could  not  put  a  slave  to  death 
without  a  judicial  decision.^  A  right  of  action  for  v/3pi^  protected 
the  slave  from  iU -treatment  by  strangers,  and  if  maltreated  by  his 
master  he  could  take  refuge  in  the  Theseum  or  some  other  asylum 
and  demand  to  be  sold — a  demand  which  was  investigated  either 
by  the  priests  or  by  a  judicial  process.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
slave  was  not  directly  recognized  as  a  personality  by  the  law ; 
he  could  only  be  represented  by  his  master,  who  could  sue  for 
damages  on  his  account.  Except  in  murder  cases  he  could  only 
give  evidence  under  torture,  to  vvhich  he  might  be  given  up  at 
the  will  of  his  master,  the  belief  being  that  this  was  the  only 
way  to  get  truth  from  him.  He  could  only  give  evidence  against 
his  master  upon  a  charge  of  treason.  At  the  same  time,  he 
was  often  allowed  to  hold  property  and  found  a  family,  while 
he  might  buy  his  freedom  by  entrusting  his  earnings  to  a  priest. 
Manumission  was  frequent  and  the  hope  of  it  used  as  a  stimulus 

1  Thucyd.,  i.  141.  ^  Busolt,  p.  12. 

^  This  held  in  other  states  as  well  (see  Isoerates,  Panath.  181,  in 
Busolt,  p.  12).  In  the  Laws  (ix.  856)  the  slayer  of  his  own  slave  is  to  undergo 
a  legal  purification  corresponding  to  that  imposed  on  the  unintentional 
homicide  of  a  free  man,  and  incur  no  further  penalty.  For  a  case  in  which 
the  killing  of  a  slave  might  be  treated  as  murder,  of.  ih.,  872, 


CLASS  RELATIONS  297 

to  industry,  but  the  freedman  letained  a  semi -dependent 
condition  and  had  no  poHtical  rights  unless  enfranchised  by  a 
special  statute  like  that  of  Cleisthenes.^ 

The  development  in  the  Dorian  states  was  somewhat  different. 
Here  serfdom  was  more  prominent  than  slavery,  though  the 
two  institutions  existed  sometimes  side  by  side.  The  Dorian 
conquerors  divided  part  of  the  land  among  themselves,  leaving 
it  to  be  tilled  by  the  conquered  people  as  public  serfs,^  while 
part  was  left  to  its  original  possessors,  who  were  personally  free 
but  had  no  poHtical  rights.  Hence  the  two  classes  of  Helots 
and  Perioeci.  Tlie  conquered  population  were  bound  to  the  soil, 
but  could  not  be  sold  or  set  free  except  by  the  state,  though 
the  landlord,  for  whom  they  cultivated  the  land  a,t  a  fixed  rate, 
was  their  immediate  master.  The  Helots  of  Sparta,  as  is  well 
known,  were  seditious,  and  were  ill-treated  and  frequently  put 
to  death  in  fear,  or  at  least  in  anticipation,  of  some  rising.  The 
Penestae  of  Thessaly,  who  were  other\^ise  in  a  closely  analogous 
position  to  the  Helots,  were  better  off  in  tliis  respect,  as  they 
could  only  be  put  to  death  by  judicial  process.  La  Crete  there 
were  two  classes  of  serfs,  those  on  the  pubhc  land  and  those 
belonging  to  private  owners,  who  might  contract  a  leg?J  marriage 
and  hold  and  inherit  property,  and,  according  to  Aristotle, 
were  treated  by  masters  on  terms  of  social  equality.  Besides 
these  classes  of  serfs  there  were  slaves  v/ho  might  be  bought 
and  sold. 

It  should  be  added  that  the  distinction  between  the  citizen 
and  the  non-citizen  is  strongly  marked  throughout  Greek  history 
In  principle  the  aHen  has  no  status  of  his  own.  He  requires 
a  TTpoiivo^ — the  official  successor  of  the  host  who  protects  his 
guest  —  to  represent  liim.  Aliens  were  forbidden  at  Sparta 
altogether,  and  at  Athens,  where  their  numbers  became  great, 
they  were  as  such  destitute  of  rights,  but  in  practice,  on  inscrib- 
ing themselves  on  the  list,  they  came  under  special  state  pro- 
tection, for  which,  and  for  the  right  to  exercise  a  trade,  they  paid 
a  certain  tribute.     They  still  required  a  representative  in  a  law 

^  Zimmern,  pp.  356-358 ;  Wilamowitz,  p.  37.  Slaves  often  carried  on 
trade  or  business  and  must  then  have  had  a  large  measure  of  practical 
freedom  (Wilamowitz,  p.  120).  On  the  other  hand,  the  conditions  in  the 
mines  of  Laureion  were  admittedly  abject  (Zimmern,  394-396). 

The  intervention  of  the  god — Apollo  was  especially  active — in  manvi- 
mission  illustrates  the  precarious  nature  of  the  slave's  "  rights."  I^  he 
offered  money  to  his  master  for  his  freedom,  the  master  might  take  the 
money  and  refuse  the  freedom.  Hence  the  precaution  of  depositing  it 
with  the  god,  who  then  carried  through  the  trust  (Farnell,  Cults,  iv.  179). 

*  But  in  some  cases  also  as  serfa  to  private  masters,  e.  g.  at  Sparta 
(Wilaniowitz,  p.  37). 


298  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

court,  and  had  neither  the  ipight  of  marriage  \vith  citizens,  unless 
by  treaty  with  their  own  state,  nor  the  right  of  holding  land.^ 

The  organization  of  the  city  state,  in  fact,  led  naturally 
to  a  deeply  marked  distinction  between  the  full  citizen  and  all 
others,  whether  Greek  or  Barbarian,  whether  free  or  unfree. 
And  we  may  take  it  as  a  mark  of  the  ethical  superiority  of  the 
Greeks  that  the  logical  consequences  were  so  far  mitigated,  as 
we  see  them  to  have  been  in  the  legislation  for  the  protection 
of  slaves, 

10.  Rome. — At  Rome  the  strict  limitation  of  civil  rights  to  full 
citizens,  combined  with  the  peculiar  development  of  the  powers 
of  the  paterfamilias,  had  a  depressing  effect  upon  the  position 
of  slaves.  Not  only  captured  enemies,  but,  even  down  to  the 
time  of  Justinian,  any  unprotected  foreigner  was  liable  to  en- 
slavement. A  free  Roman  could  not  become  a  slave  within 
Rome  itself,  but  deserters,  and  all  those  who  were  omitted 
from  the  census,  could  be  sold  abroad  by  the  magistrate,  children 
by  their  parents,  debtors  by  their  creditors,  the  tliief  by  the 
injured  party. 

In  practice,  the  slave  of  the  earlier  period  was,  as  a  rule,  fairly 
well  treated,  and  there  was  probably  no  great  social  distinction 
between  him  and  his  master ;  but  he  was  in  law  a  chattel.  He 
had  no  family  of  his  own ;  his  union  {contuhernium)  was  no 
legal  marriage.  He  had  no  status  in  a  court  of  justice,  but  if 
he  wished  to  sue  for  an  injury  could  only  do  so  through  his 
master.  Even  if  abandoned  by  his  master  he  did  not  become 
free,  but  was  the  lawful  property  of  the  first  comer.  Not  that 
cruel  treatment  passed  without  condemnation.  Cruelty,  even 
to  animals,  was  subject  to  religious  and  even  legal  penalties.^ 
Gross  cases  might  involve  the  intervention  of  the  censor.  Though 
the  slave  could  legally  hold  no  property,  custom  secured  him 
his  own  pecuUum,  and  he  might  even  come  to  purchase  his 
freedom. 

Such  was  the  position  of  the  slave  in  early  Rome.  The 
growth  of  the  Roman  dominion,  the  rise  of  the  great  estates, 
submerging  the  old  freeholder  with  his  small  plot  of  ground, 
and  the  facility  of  obtaining  slaves  from  the  numbers  thrown 

1  Busolt,  pp.  12-14,  15,  68,  119.  Cleisthenes,  however,  enrolled  many 
txiroiKOL  among  the  citizens,  and  mixed  marriages  became  frequent  until 
the  conditions  of  the  citizenship  were  tightened  up  by  a  law  of  451.  After 
this,  left-handed  marriages  with  ahens  obtained,  the  wife  having  a  status 
below  that  of  an  Athenian  but  above  a  concubine,  and  the  children  being 
personally  free  (Zimmern,  pp.  333,  334). 

•  Girard,  Manuel,  89,  91. 


CLASS  RELATIONS  299 

into  the  market  by  capture  in  war  and  by  traffic  A\ith  pirates, 
combined  to  give  Roman  slavery  towards  the  close  of  the 
Republic  a  new  and  dark  character.  The  land  was  cultivated 
in  many  districts  by  slave-gangs,  working  in  chains  and  confined 
by  night  in  prison-workhouses  under  conditions  described  by 
Mommsen  as  such  that  by  comparison  with  their  sufferings  it 
is  probable  that  all  that  was  endured  by  negro  slaves  was 
but  a  drop.  But  some  rehef  came  from  the  humaner  ideas  of 
advancing  civihzation,  fostered  by  contact  with  Greek  culture. 
Li  particular,  the  Stoic  philosophy  was  the  champion  of  the 
slaves.  Seneca  vigorously  pleads  their  cause,  and  in  particular 
reprobates  the  cruelty  of  the  gladiatorial  games.  The  jurists 
of  the  next  century  went  further,  and  distinctly  laid  down  that 
by  natural  law  all  men  are  equal  and  that  slavery  is  a  human 
institution  contrary  to  nature.  "  Quod  ad  jus  naturale  attinet, 
omnes  homines  sequales  sunt,"  writes  Ulpian;^  and  more 
distinctly  Florentinus  :  "  Servitus  est  constitutio  juris  gentium, 
qua  quis  dominio  alieno  contra  naturam  subjicitur."  ^  The 
Stoical  teaching  had  its  effect  on  legislation.  The  practice  of 
the  exposure  and  sale  of  children  and  of  pledging  them  for 
debt  was  forbidden,  while  an  edict  of  Diocletian  forbade  a 
free  man  to  sell  liimself.  Man-stealers  were  punished  with 
death.  The  insolvent  debtor  was  no  longer  made  a  slave.  The 
right  of  bequest  was  granted  to  slaves.  Some  approach  was 
made  to  a  recognition  of  their  marriage,  not  only  after  emanci- 
pation, but  even  ^  while  in  slavery,  with  a  view  to  hindering  the 
separation  of  families.  Some  legal  security  had  already  been 
given  to  their  personal  property,  the  peculium,  by  the  praetorian 
edicts.  The  Lex  Petronia  (perhaps  of  a.d.  19)  forbade  throwing 
a  slave  to  the  wild  beasts  without  a  judicial  decision.*  Under 
Hadrian  the  power  of  life  and  death  was  taken  from  the  master, 
and  under  Antoninus  Pius  the  master  who  killed  his  own  slave 
sine  causa  was  punished  as  a  homicide.  An  edict  of  Claudius 
had  meanwhile  enfranchised  the  old  or  sick  slave  who  was 
abandoned  by  his  master.^  Under  Nero  the  slave  had  been 
given  the  right  to  complain  f>f  ill-treatment  to  the  magistrate. 
Under  Pius  the  slave  who  was  cruelly  treated  could  claim  to  be 
sold,  and  by  a  special  refinement  it  w^as  held  cruelty  to  employ 
an  educated  slave  on  degrading  or  manual  work.  Constantine 
deprived  masters  who  abandoned  new-born  slaves  of  their  rights 
over  them,^    Emancipation,   though   restricted   by   Augustus, 

'  See  Girard,  p.  92.  *  See  Girard,  p.  88,  note  1. 

^  Assez  timidement,  Girard,  p.  94.  •  Girard,  p.  94. 

^  Loc.  cit.  *  ib.,  p.  95, 


300  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

was  again  made  easier,  and  though  the  use  of  torture  at  judicial 
investigation  remained,  it  was  in  some  respects  Hmited.^ 

While  the  legal  position  of  the  slave  was  being  thus  improved 
by  the  imperial  legislation,  a  new  form  of  serfdom  was  growing 
up  under  the  name  of  the  Colonate.  Some  of  the  Coloni  were 
probably  foreign  captives  and  immigrants  settled  upon  the  soil, 
while  others  were  originally  free  tenants,  who  lapsed  into  a 
semi-servile  condition  through  the  insecurity  of  the  times  and 
largely  through  self -commendation.  The  status  of  the  Coloni 
was  regulated  in  the  fourth  century  for  fiscal  purposes.  Under 
Constantine,  in  332,  the  Colonus  could  not  quit  his  holding  nor 
could  he  marry  off  the  property  of  his  lord.  On  the  other 
hand,  he  could  not  be  disturbed  or  be  subjected  arbitrarily  to 
increased  charges,  and  as  the  status  was  hereditary,  we  have 
here  a  fully  developed  predial  serfdom  v-dth  fixed  but  limited 
rights  for  the  serf,^  The  master  might  infhct  moderate  chas- 
tisement, but  the  Colonus  had  a  legal  remedy  for  injury  or 
excessive  demands.^  Wliile  the  Colonate  was  partly  recruited 
from  the  previously  free  peasantry,  a  compensating  process  was 
going  on  whereby  rural  slaves  obtained  a  settlement  upon  the 
land  as  quasi-Coloni  or  Casati.  They  were  assimilated  to  the 
Coloni  by  the  law  of  Valentinian  I.  in  377,  could  not  be  sold 
apart  from  the  land,  and  by  the  end  of  the  seventh  century  were 
merged  in  the  Colonate* 

We  have  now  reached  a  point  in  the  history  of  slavery  at 
which  two  fresh  influences  have  to  be  considered.  Tlie  first  of 
these  is  the  barbarian  conquests  ;  the  second  that  of  the  mediaeval 
Church.  The  German  tribes,  generally  speaking,  recognized 
chattel  slavery,  and  slaves  were  recruited  from  the  sources 
ordinarily  recognized  among  barbarians  —  war,  unprotected 
strangers,  voluntary  commendation,  and  in  certain  cases  debt 
(i.  e.  in  cases  of  incapacity  to  pay  the  wergild.  This  was  the 
only  form  of  debt  slavery  known). ^  Even  in  Merovingian  times 
the  slave  was  a  true  chattel,  whose  life  had  indeed  a  price,  but 
a  price  payable,  like  that  of  the  Babylonian  slave,  to  his  lord, 
and  not  a  fixed  wer  like  a  free  man,  but  a  sum  proportionate  to 

1  Ingram,  History  of  Slavery,  60-64,  etc. 

2  ib.,  pp.  78,  79,  etc. 

■'  The  colonus  could  also  contract  a  valid  marriage,  but  he  had  to  marry 
within  the  domain  unless  he  purchased  a  dispensation.  The  right  of  punish- 
ment was  conceded  to  the  master  for  certain  specified  faults  (Letourneau, 
UEsdavage,  pp.  422,  423). 

^  Ingram,  History  of  Slavery,  p.  80 ;  cf .  Viollet,  Histoire  du  Droit  Civil 
Francais,  p.  312.     Valentinian  prohibited  their  sale  apart  frona  the  land. 

^  Schroder,  Lehrbuck,  p.  46. 


CLASS  RELATIONS  301 

his  value.*  But  besides  the  slaves,  who  were  not  numerous, 
the  Germans  recognized  a  class  of  imperfectly  free  men,  the 
Liti,  who  had  land  of  their  own,  without  which  a  German  could 
not  be  a  citizen,  but  were  in  a  dependent  position.  Their 
status  varied  very  much  from  tribe  to  tribe,  and  from  one 
period  to  another.  At  first  tributary  to  the  people,  we  find 
them  at  a  later  stage  in  subjection  to  an  individual  master. 
They  took  no  part  in  the  meetings  of  the  people,  and  while 
originally  they  could  plead  before  a  court,  their  wergild  was 
ordinarily  half  that  of  a  free  man.  Their  marriage  with  free 
people  was  a  mesalliance,  v/herein  the  children  followed  the  rank 
of  the  mother.  As  we  approach  the  "  Frankish  "  period  we 
find  their  position  more  distinctly  assimilated  to  that  of  serfs.^ 

1 1 ,  Thus  the  Middle  Ages  begin  with  two  fairly  distinct  classes 
of  the  unfree  ;  on  the  one  hand,  the  slaves  proper,  whose  position 
has  been  amehorated  in  Roman  law,  but  remains  that  of  pure 
chattels  by  the  law  of  the  conquerors ;  on  the  other  hand,  a 
class  of  serfs  in  various  degrees  of  unfreedom,  which  had  already 
growii  up  in  the  later  ages  of  the  Empire  and  was  reinforced  by 
the  corresponding  class  of  Liti  among  the  conquerors. 

The  moral  influence  of  the  Stoic  philosophy  which  had  in- 
spired the  imperial  legislation  for  the  benefit  of  slaves  was  now 
replaced  by  that  of  the  Church.  Like  the  Stoics,  the  Church 
accepted  slavery  as  an  institution  which  it  did  not  seek  to  abohsh, 
but  it  was  so  far  influenced  by  the  philosophic  idea  of  natural 
equahty  that  it  set  itself  to  minimize  an  evil  which  it  could 
not  cure.  There  was,  indeed,  one  distinction  which  in  the  event 
became  a  distinction  of  importance.  The  Stoic  philosophy 
was  strictly  universalist  in  character.  For  the  Stoic  all  men 
were  brothers  and  there  was  no  distinction  of  nationahty,  class, 
or  creed.  For  the  Church  all  men  ought  to  be  brothers,  but 
many  men  were,  unfortunately,  unbelievers,  and  the  brother- 
hood of  men  was  for  many  purposes  hmited  to  members  of  the 
Church.  Thus  it  followed  naturally  from  Christian  principle 
that  the  holding  of  Christians  in  slavery,  and  still  more  the 
reducing  of  Christians  to  slavery  by  capture  or  by  purchase, 
were  actions  which,  if  not  Vv'holly  illegal,  were  contrary  to 
the  best  rehgious  teaching.  Accordingly,  from  an  early  period 
the  custom  of  enslaving  prisoners  of  war  began  to  be  abandoned, 

1  Schroder,  p.  346.  The  price  was,  however,  becoming  a  fixed  tariff, 
and  so  gradually  approximating  to  a  true  wergild  [ib.,  218). 

*  Schroder,  pp.  50,  51,  221-223.  In  the  latter  period  their  position 
still  varied  very  greatly  as  between  different  peoples. 


302  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

at  any  rate  in  war  between  Christians,  while  the  Church  further 
set  itself  energetically  to  combat  the  traffic  in  slaves.^  The 
custom  of  treating  the  slave  as  a  fixture  on  the  estate,  wiiich  in 
the  Empire  had  been  made  matter  of  legal  enactment,  was  first 
adopted  by  the  West  Franks  among  the  barbarians,  and  spread 
from  them  to  other  peoples  by  degrees  .^  The  proliibition  to 
enslave  captives  is  treated  by  Gregoras  as  the  traditional  law 
"  not  only  of  the  Romans  and  Thessalians,  but  of  the  Ulyrians, 
Triballi  and  Bulgarians  on  account  of  the  unity  of  faith."  ^ 
But  as  this  prohibition  did  not  apply  to  pagans,  until  the  conver- 
sion of  the  Slavs  it  left  them  as  the  one  source  open  to  the 
Western  European  countries  for  the  acquisition  of  fresh  slaves 
whether  by  capture  or  by  traffic.  The  interval  before  their  con- 
version lasted  long  enough,  and  this  source  of  slaves  was  during 
that  time  sufficiently  important  to  alter  the  European  name 
for  the  institution.  The  former  "  servus  "  was  now  accurately 
represented  in  mediaeval  and  modern  language  by  the  "  serf  "  ;  a 
"  Slav  "  was,  with  shght  modification,  in  German,  French  and 
Enghsh,  a  "slave."*  As  the  Slavs  became  converted  to  Chris- 
tianity this  source  of  recruitment  for  the  slave  class  was  cut  off. 
There  remained  debt  slavery,  the  sale  of  wife  and  children  by  hus- 
band and  father,  and  the  sale  of  a  man  by  himself  in  time  of  need. 
All  these  sources  of  slavery  remained  in  the  earher  Middle 
Ages,^  but  they  were  already  in  process  of  decay.  Self -enslave- 
ment was  a  desperate  resource  to  which  men  were  only  driven 
in  times  of  great  need,  and  probably  became  infrequent  in 
proportion  as  a  more  settled  order  made  years  of  famine  rarer ; 
and  the  downfall  of  free  men  tended  rather  to  swell  the  class 
of  serfs  than  of  slaves.  The  sale  of  men  was  on  the  whole  opposed 
by  the  Church,®  and  debt  slavery  was  also  limited  under  rehgious 
influences.     From  the  Carolingian  age  onward  it  became  limited 

*  For  example,  the  Bristol  slave  trade  was  suppressed  by  Wulfstan,  Bishop 
of  Worcester,  towards  the  close  of  the  eleventh  century.  It  had  been 
prohibited  previously  by  Ethelbert  and  Canute,  and  again  by  William  the 
Conqueror.  The  selling  of  a  countryman  be5'^ond  the  seas  was  forbidden 
in  the  "  Dooms  "  of  Ina,  and  the  same  prohibition,  so  far  as  Christians 
were  concerned,  in  the  "  Dooms  "  of  Ethelred  (Pollock  and  Maitland, 
i.  85). 

2  Schroder,  p.  219.  '  See  Gtrotius,  book  iii.  chap.  ix. 

*  In  addition  to  possible  sources  of  capture  by  war  there  was  the  slave 
trade  in  the  hands  of  the  Jews  (Schroder,  p.  459,  quoting  T.  Waitz,  5,  ii. 
207). 

5  Schroder,  p.  220. 

*  For  example,  at  the  Coxincil  of  Coblenz,  in  922  (VioUet,  311);  and 
Wulfstan  again  is  prominent  with  protestations  against  the  enslavement 
of  "  cradle  children."  Nevertheless,  the  Church  allowed  a  man  to  give 
himself  up  along  with  his  wife  and  children  as  slave  to  an  abbey,  at  any 
rate  until  he  could  redeem  himself  (Schroder,  p.  220,  note  26). 


CLASS  RELATIONS  303 

to  a  period  necessary  for  the  paying  off  of  the  debt/  and  thus 
ceased  to  be  a  source  of  hereditary  slavery  properly  so  called. 
Meanwhile,  the  Church  was  also  urgent  in  pressing  the  claims  of 
manumission.  The  grounds  for  this  are  based  on  the  broadest 
Stoical  principle  by  Gregory  the  Great,  who  urges  that  "it  is  a 
good  deed  if  men,  whom  nature  created  and  brought  forth  free 
from  the  beginning  and  the  law  of  nations  has  put  under  the  yoke 
of  slavery,  are  by  the  benevolence  of  a  liberator  restored  to  their 
liberty  in  that  natural  condition  in  which  they  were  born."  This 
is  the  full  doctrine  of  human  rights  applied  in  somewhat  halting 
fashion  by  way  of  recommending  a  beneficent  practice.  But, 
however  haltingly  applied,  the  moral  conception  of  universalism 
introduced  by  the  Stoic  pliilosophy  and  favoured  with  limitations 
by  the  Church,  was  in  principle  fatal  to  slavery.  That  institution 
depends,  as  we  have  argued  throughout,  upon  group-morahty 
and  the  distinction  between  man  and  man.  It  is  suited  to  the 
genius  of  primitive  rehgions,  whether  in  the  form  of  separate 
family  cults  or  of  national  creeds,  but  it  is  opposed  in  spirit  to 
any  doctrine  which  teaches  that  the  same  moral  obligations 
must  apply  to  all  humanity  aHke.  The  Stoics  first  preached 
this  doctrine  with  effect  in  Western  Europe,  but  unfortunately, 
in  applying  it  to  the  case  of  the  slave,  they  were  hampered  by 
their  view  of  the  indifference  of  all  outward  circumstances,  and 
preached  that  the  slave  in  his  slavery  could  be  and  should  be 
as  truly  king  and  lord  of  himself  as  the  emperor  on  his  throne. 
The  slave  Epictetus  was  no  less  his  owti  master  than  the 
Emperor  Marcus  Aurelius.  The  leaders  of  the  Church  accepted 
the  principle  of  human  brotherhood,  but  to  them  also  worldly 
institutions  were  secondary,  because  salvation,  if  obtained  in 
this  world,  was  not  obtained  for  this  life,  but  for  the  life  to 
come.  They  dealt  with  slavery,  therefore,  not  so  much  from 
the  point  of  view  of  the  rights  of  the  sMve  as  from  that  of  the 
duties  of  the  master,  and  limiting  their  conception  of  equal 
rights  by  the  principle  of  brotherhood  in  Christ  alone,  they 
took  less  account  of  the  fate  of  those  outside  the  Christian 
community.  The  results  are  written  deep  in  history.  The 
question  is  always  asked  how  far  the  abolition  of  slavery  in 
Europe  was  due  to  moral,  how  far  to  economic,  causes.  The 
answer  appears  to  be  that,  so  far  as  regards  slavery  proper,  the 
two  factors  worked  in  harmony.  The  transition  to  serfdom  was 
favoured  by  the  economic  situation.^     But  the  disappearance 

1  See  Schroder,  220,  compared  with  459. 

^  See  Vinogradoff,  Growth  of  the  Manor,  pp.  202-204.     A  great  social 
reform  like  the  abolition  of  slavery  is  seldom  brought  about  by  mora! 


304  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

of  slavery  is  no  less  distinctly  connected  with  the  rise  of 
universaUsm  in  ethics,  first  in  philosophy  and  afterwards  in 
religion.  In  neither  form  was  the  institution  of  slavery  directly 
combated,  but  the  indirect  effect,  first  by  ameliorating  the 
position  of  the  slave  and  thereby  curtailing  the  rights  of  the 
master,  secondly  by  encouraging  manumission,  and  thirdly  and 
most  important  of  all  by  cutting  off  the  sources  of  supply,  was 
that  slavery  died  of  inanition,  and  by  the  end  of  the  twelfth 
century  was  almost  unknown  in  Europe.  On  the  other  hand, 
when  the  Christian  world  came  into  contact,  a  century  or  two 
later,  as  a  conquering  power  with  non-Christian  races,  there  was 
no  moral  force  at  hand  to  resist  the  natural  result,  and  new 
forms  of  slavery  grew  up. 

12,  The  history  of  serfdom  in  the  Middle  Ages  is  more  compli- 
cated and  obscure,  especially  as  to  the  causes  and  progress  of  its 
disappearance.  We  have  seen  a  form  of  predial  serfdom  already 
groT^dng  up  within  the  Roman  Empire.  We  have  seen  also  that, 
in  addition  to  the  slave  class,  the  barbarian  conquerors  introduced 
into  the  constitutions  of  Western  Europe  imperfectlydistinguished 
classes  of  semi-free  citizens.  All  these  elements  contributed  to 
form  that  great  mass  of  the  population  which  throughout  the 
Middle  Ages  stood  between  the  free  man  and  the  slave,  and 
whilst  slavery,  as  we  have  seen,  was  slowly  d5ing  out,  serfdom 
for  a  long  time  continued  to  flourish  and  increase,  recruited  in 
part  from  the  ranks  of  the  slaves  and  in  part  from  free  men  who, 
either  by  conquest  or  through  economic  causes,  sometimes  even 
by  voluntary  surrender  of  their  freedom  with  a  view  to  gaining 
the  protection  of  a  lord,  swelled  the  number  of  the  semi-free. 
Thus  mediaeval  serfdom  represents,  on  the  one  hand,  a  progress 
from  slavery,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  a  degradation  of  free  men 
which  is  a  not  uncommon  incident  of  epochs  of  unrest  and  of 
mihtary  conquest.  It  is  not  within  our  limits  to  characterize 
all  the  different  grades  of  unfreedom  which  resulted.  At  most 
a  general  idea  may  be  given.     Serfdom,  though  not  essentially 

R.gencies  alone.  It  is  only  when  these  can  take  advantage  of  a  favourable 
political  or  economic  situation  that  they  get  their  way.  Hence  there  is 
always  on  the  surface  of  things  colour  for  the  cynical  view  that  what  appear 
to  be  moral  improvements  are  really  due  to  non-moral  causes.  But  this 
view  ignores  the  cases  in  which  the  political  and  economic  forces  tend  in 
the  opposite  direction.  In  modern  industry,  for  example,  the  circum- 
stances, if  we  eliminate  the  moral  factor,  are  eminently  favourable  to  tho 
development  of  a  servile  system,  but  every  move  in  this  direction  has 
constantlj^  been  combated,  on  the  whole  with  conspicuous  success,  by  the 
deliberate  efforts  of  men  and  women  animated  by  a  sense  of  justice  and 
humanity. 


CLASS  RELATIONS  305 

and  universally  confined  to  peasants  settled  upon  the  land, 
tended  in  point  of  fact  through  the  Middle  Ages  to  lose  its 
domestic  and  assume  a  territorial  character,  Li  the  Frankish 
Empire  the  serf  was,  generally  speaking,  glehce  adscriptus.  He 
might  not  leave  his  land,  while,  on  the  other  side,  he  could  not 
be  sold  apart  from  the  land.  He  could  acquire  property,  but 
had  not  complete  control  of  it.  He  had  to  perform  certain 
definite  services  to  his  master,  which  could  not  be  altered 
arbitrarily,  and  in  the  earlier  period  he  required  the  lord's 
consent  to  marriage,  at  any  rate  outside  the  domain,  while  he 
had  also  to  pay  for  securing  the  lord's  consent.  He  came  under 
the  protection  of  the  law,  having,  as  a  rule,  half  the  wergild  and 
half  the  fines  of  a  free  man.  In  other  respects,  the  position  of 
the  serf  was  extremely  different  among  different  peoples.  Among 
the  Saxons  the  Liti  were  a  part  of  the  people.  Among  the 
Frisians,  and  probably  among  the  Saxons  also,  they  could 
plead  in  court,  and  in  cases  of  injury  received  a  part  of  the  wer 
themselves,  only  one  portion  going  to  their  lord.  Among  the 
Lombards,  on  the  other  hand,  the  corresponding  class  could  not 
appear  in  the  courts,  and  the  lord  received  their  wer  as  though 
they  were  slaves.  Between  these  extremes  there  were  numerous 
intermediate  grades.^  As  the  Middle  Ages  advanced  the  heaviest 
burdens  of  serfdom  tended  to  disappear  in  the  Empire.  In 
particular,  the  right  to  marry  was  acquired  by  the  serf,  and 
here,  as  has  been  mentioned  in  chap,  v.,  the  influence  of  the 
Church  was  probably  decisive.  The  payment  upon  marriage, 
however,  was  continued,  at  any  rate  in  cases  where  it  took  the 
bride  off  the  estate,  and  in  this  case  it  still  required  the  approval 
of  the  lord — not  that  the  withholding  of  such  approval  would 
invahdate  the  marriage,  but  that  it  would  render  the  parties 
liable  to  punishment.^  The  old  right  of  the  lord  to  inherit  from 
the  serf  had  been  reduced  ^  to  the  right  to  a  duty  on  the  inherit- 
ance ;  and  the  other  restrictions  on  the  serf's  right  to  property 
were  in  process  of  disappearance.  His  personal  tribute  was 
converted  into  a  rent  upon  his  holding  and  his  stock,  and  the 
limitation  upon  his  power  to  ahenate  liis  land  nto  a  right  of 
pre-emption  on  the  part  of  the  lord.*  Finally,  the  growth  of 
free  cities  favoured  freedom.  The  serf,  escaping  to  them,  could 
be  reclaimed  by  his  master  within  a  year  and  a  day,  but  from 
that  time  onwards  was  free.  The  principle  "  Air  makes  free," — 
that  is  to  say,  that  the  position  of  a  person  follows  the  general 
law  of  the  land  on  which  he  is  settled  and  does  not  depend  upon 

1  Schroder,  pp.  222,  223.  ^  ^-j,.^  p.  455. 

3   '' Schon  in  der  vorigen  Periode  " ;    Schroder,  t6.  *  Schroder,  p.  456= 


306  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

his  birth,  became  adopted  in  the  later  Middle  Ages  and  naturally 
tended  to  emancipation.^ 

In  France,  the  conditions  of  serfdom  varied  from  province 
to  province  and  from  period  to  period.^  A  conception  of  the 
different  grades  of  unfreedom  covered  by  the  term  may  be 
derived  from  the  description  given  at  the  close  of  the  thirteenth 
century  by  Beaumanoir.  In  one  grade  the  whole  property  of 
the  serf  was  at  the  mercy  of  the  lord,  who  might  also  imprison 
him  at  pleasure ;  in  the  other  grade,  the  lord  could  command 
nothing  from  the  serf  except  a  fixed  customary  sum,  though  he 
was  still  the  serf's  heir  unless  the  children  redeemed  the  succes- 
sion.^ Serfdom  had  already  become  rare  and  had  in  some 
provinces  disappeared.  Some  serfs  gained  the  right  of  pajdng 
a  fixed  "taille,"  and  the  right  of  holding  and  transmitting  pro- 
perty were,  generally  speaking,  acquired  early.  In  a  mediaeval 
decision  given  at  Paris  the  characteristics  laid  dovm  as  dis- 
tinguisliing  a  serf  are  (1)  he  cannot  marry  without  the  permis- 
sion of  the  lord,  and  (2)  he  carniot  give  or  bequeath  goods.  The 
second  condition  was  the  more  general,  and  the  milder  form  of 
serfdom  persisted  to  the  eighteenth  century.* 

In  England,  as  elsewhere,  serfdom  was  increasing  just  at  the 
period  when  slavery  was  disappearing,  and  the  number  of  serfs 
was  swelled  by  the  merging  of  different  classes,  slaves,  villeins, 
and  even  free  men,  under  a  single  denomination.  The  serf 
was  not,  properly  speaking,  adscriptus  glebce,  although  he  passed 
with  the  manor  when  it  was  sold  or  inherited ;  but  he  could  be 
moved  from  place  to  place  and  from  one  service  to  another  at 
the  lord's  will,^  and  by  strict  right  could  be  sold,  though  the 
right  was  rarely  exercised.^  The  general  characteristics  of  the 
villeinage  were  that  the  villein  by  birth  could  not  marry  his 
daughter  without  paying  a  fine,  nor  permit  his  son  to  take  holy 
orders,  nor  sell  his  calf  or  horse ;  that  he  is  bound  to  serve  as  a 
reeve  in  the  manor,  and  that  his  youngest  son  succeeds  to  his 
holding  on  his  death.'  To  this  it  must  be  added  that  while  the 
serf  has  full  legal  rights  in  relation  to  tliird  parties,  the  criminal 
law  makes  a  great  distinction  between  his  lord  and  him.  Thus, 
in  the  Leges  Henrici,  if  the  lord  takes  away  the  man's  land  or 
deserts  liim  in  mortal  peril  he  forfeits  his  lordship,  but  the  man 

^  Schroder,  p.  460.  On  the  reaction  which  began  in  the  fifteenth  century, 
and  which  was  due  largely  to  the  unfavourable  economic  position  of  the 
landless  free  labourers,  see  Schroder,  pp.  460,  461. 

2  Viollet,  pp.  307,  313  ff. 

«  ib.,  p.  314.  *  ib.,  p.  315. 

*  Vinogradoff,  Villeinage  in  England,  p.  57. 

«  ib.,  p.  151.  '  ib.,  p.  156. 


CLASS   RELATIONS  307 

must  bear  with  the  lord's  ill-treatment  of  him  for  thirty  days  in 
war  and  a  year  and  a  day  in  peace.  To  kill  one's  lord  is  hke 
blasphemy  and  is  punishable  with  death  by  torture,  whereas 
if  a  lord  kills  his  man  A\ithout  cause  a  fine  will  suffice.  This 
is  the  "  high- water  mark  of  English  vassalism,"  ^  The  Norman 
law  is  more  liberal,  but  still  draws  a  distinction.  "  If  a  lord 
kiUs  his  man  he  shall  be  punishable  with  death,  if  the  man  his 
lord  he  shall  be  drawn  and  hanged,  and  even  if  it  be  by  mis- 
adventure he  shall  be  punishable  with  death."  The  lord  would 
be  punished  for  kilhng  or  maiming  the  villein,  but  might  beat  or 
imprison  his  serf.^ 

The  liistory  of  the  dechne  of  serfdom  in  the  later  Middle 
Ages,  both  in  France  and  England,  is  not  very  clear.  The 
lawyers  who  had  been  unfavourable  to  freedom  down  to  the 
thirteenth  century  changed  their  attitude  during  that  period 
under  the  influence  of  the  new  ideas  of  the  state  as  a  whole,  no 
longer  broken  up  into  half -independent  feudal  territories,  but  as 
a  single  authority,  having  equal  claim  upon  all  its  subjects  ahke.^ 
That  these  more  enlightened  ideas  accompanied  the  improvement 
of  social  organization  was  an  extremely  fortunate  circumstance 
for  the  Enghsh  serf.  In  England,  as  on  the  Continent,  freedom 
might  be  acquired  by  escaping  from  the  lord's  jurisdiction,  and 
the  courts  now  favoured  liberty.  Feudal  barbarism  admitted 
this  rough-and-ready  method  of  emancipation  largely  because  it 
lacked  the  means  of  securing  the  person  of  the  runaway.  With 
the  growth  of  the  kingly  power  and  the  better  settlement  of 
society,  this  primitive  check  upon  oppression  would  naturally 
disappear,  and  thus  where  the  etliical  conception  of  freedom  was 
wanting,  the  growth  of  civilization  meant  the  prolongation  of  the 
old  bondage  and  even,  as  in  Russia  and  Germany,  deterioration 
in  its  character.  In  England  and  France,  upon  the  other  hand, 
there  was  something  of  the  nature  of  an  ethical  resistance  to  any 
tightening  of  the  bonds,  and  thus  the  development  of  order  had  a 
beneficial  effect  on  the  slave  rather  than  the  reverse,  for  it  tended 
to  encourage  the  system  of  money  payments  as  a  substitute  for 
labour  service,  and  though  in  theory  the  serf  remained  the  lord's 
man,  yet  in  practice,  in  proportion  as  labour  services  were  com- 
muted for  a  money  rent  his  position  became  scarcely  distinguish- 
able from  that  of  a  tenant  farmer.  From  whatever  causes, 
servile  tenure  was  in  fact  rapidly  becoming  obsolete  during  the 
fourteenth  century.  One  of  the  latest  records  we  have  of  the 
existence  of  bondmen  in  England  is  in  a  document  in  which 

1  Pollock  and  Maitland,  i.  300. 

'  ib.f  i.  416.  '  Vinogradoff,  p.  131. 


30S  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

Elizabeth  enfranchises  some  remaining  serfs  of  the  Crown  in 
1574,^  but  there  were  Scottish  miners  who  remained  serfs  down 
to  1799  and  were  not  particularly  desirous  of  having  their 
condition  changed. 

Yet  elements  of  servility  remain  in  the  position  of  the  labourer. 
The  Statute  of  Labourers  in  1348  was  passed  with  the  intention  of 
preventing  workmen  from  taking  advantage  of  the  rise  in  wages 
due  to  the  depopulation  of  the  country  by  the  Black  Death,  and 
was  the  beginning  of  a  series  of  labour  laws  which  brought  the 
labourer  into  a  position  which,  as  described  in  Blackstone,^  stood 
as  folio v/s  :  (1)  The  law  first  of  all  compels  all  persons  -\\ith 
no  visible  effects  to  work ;  (2)  defines  their  hours  in  summer  and 
winter ;  (3)  punishes  those  who  desert  their  work ;  (4)  empowers 
justices  to  fix  the  rate  of  wage  for  agricultural  labour  and  punishes 
those  v/ho  give  or  exact  more  than  the  wages  so  settled.  We 
know  that  these  laws  were  largely  a  dead  letter.  Nevertheless 
they  illustrate  the  attitude  of  the  governing  classes.  VtTiat  was 
in  practice  more  important  was  the  Statute  of  Apprentices  (Fifth 
of  Elizabeth),  which  restricted  the  right  to  carry  on  a  trade  to 
those  who  had  served  an  apprenticeship,  while  the  operation  of 
the  Poor  Law,  especially  of  the  Act  of  Settlement,  tended  in 
practice  to  restrict  the  motions  of  the  Enghsh  labourer  almost  as 
much  as  regular  serfdom  would  do.^  Indeed,  had  this  statute 
been  rigidly  and  universally  carried  out,  it  v.ould  have  had  the 
effect  of  fixing  the  labourer  in  liis  parish  like  a  predial  serf  without 
the  right  upon  the  land  which  redeems  the  serf's  position.  To 
describe  its  practical  operation  in  these  terms  might  savour  of 
exaggeration,  yet  the  historian  of  the  Poor  Law  declares  that 
with  this  Act  the  "iron  of  slavery  entered  into  the  soul  of  the 
Enghsh  labourer,"  and  those  who  know  the  midland  or  south 

^  This  is  sometimes  spoken  of  as  the  latest  record,  but  Professor 
Vinogradoff  informs  me  that  this  is  not  absolutely  correct. 

^  I.,  p.  414. 

^  In  the  effort  to  deal  with  vagabondage  the  law  has  at  different  times 
come  perilously  near  to  re-introducing  slavery.  A  statute  of  Edward 
VI.  ordained  that  all  idle  vagabonds  should  bo  made  slaves,  fed  on  bread 
and  water  and  refxise  meat,  wear  iron  rings,  and  be  compelled  by  beating, 
chains,  etc.,  to  do  the  work  assigned  to  them.  This  was  repealed  in  two 
years.  It  is  now  laid  down  that  slaves  acquire  freedoixi  by  landing  in 
England,  but  this  does  not  affect  the  right  a  master  may  have  acquired 
to  a  man's  perpetual  service,  and  "  the  infamous  and  michristian  practice  of 
withholding  baptism  from  negro  servants,  lest  they  should  thereby  gain 
their  liberty,  was  totally  without  foundation."  The  Law  of  England  will 
not  dissolve  a  civil  obligation  between  master  and  servant  on  account  of  the 
alteration  of  faith  in  either  of  the  parties,  "  but  the  slave  is  entitled  to  the 
same  liberty  in  England  before  as  after  baptism ;  and,  whatever  service 
the  heathen  negro  owed  to  his  EncrUsh  master,  the  same  is  he  bound  to 
render  when  a  Christian  "  (Blackstone,  i.  412,  413). 


CLASS   RELATIONS  309 

country  labourer  of  the  present  day  can  see  the  scar  still  there. 
Again,  Blackstone  writes — 

"  A  master  may  by  law  correct  his  apprentice  or  servant  for 
negligence  or  other  misbehaviour,  so  it  be  done  with  moderation; 
though  if  the  master's  wife  beats  him,  it  is  good  causa  of  de- 
parture. But  if  any  servant,  workman  or  labourer  assaults  his 
master  or  dame  he  shall  suffer  one  year's  imprisonment  and 
other  open  corporal  punishment  not  extending  to  life  or  Hmb." 

Further,  in  Blackstone 's  time  a  servant  through  whose  negli- 
gence a  fire  happens  forfeits  £100,  and  in  default  of  payment 
might  be  committed  to  a  worldiouse  mth  hard  labour  for  eighteen 
months.  It  is  not  difficult  to  recognize  in  these  distinctions 
between  the  rights  of  master  and  servant  an  echo  of  the  law  as 
to  lord  and  serf. 

Nor  was  the  English  law  altogether  free  from  caste  distinctions 
in  the  earlier  part  of  the  modfrn  period.  The  benefit  of  clergy, 
wliich  had  originally  been  an  imm.umty  claimed  by  ecclesiastics 
from  the  secular  courts,  haa  been  gradually  transformed  into 
a  mere  class  privilege,  whe/.eby  educated  persons  could  escape 
punishment  for  secondary  offences.  Thus,  in  the  seventeenth 
eentury  the  question  whether  a  ma,n  would  be  hanged  for  larceny 
or  not  depended  on  whether  he  could  read,  unless  indeed  he  had 
forfeited  the  benefit  of  clergy  by  contracting  a  second  marriage 
or  by  marrying  a  widow.  In  1705  the  necessity  for  reading  was 
abolished,  and  benefit  of  clergy  could  thereafter  be  claimed  by 
all  persons  alike  for  a  first  offence  in  the  case  of  secondary  crimes. 
But  important  distinctions  were  still  m.ade.  The  offender,  unless 
he  was  a  peer  or  a  clerk  in  orders,  was,  until  1779,  bra,nded  in 
the  hand  and  liable  to  seven  years'  transportation.  Clerks  in 
orders,  meanwhile,  might  plead  their  clergy  for  any  number  of 
offences,  and  peers  had  received  the  same  privileges  as  clerks  by 
the  statute  of  1547.  On  the  other  hand,  during  the  eighteenth 
century  benefit  of  clergy  was  gradually  withdrawn  from  an  in- 
creasing number  of  offences,  but  it  v.'as  not  until  1827  that  it  was 
finally  abolished,  and  even  then  it  was  doubtful  whether  the 
privilege  of  peers  fell  ■v^^th  it.  This  question  was  not  settled 
until  1841,  when  the  statute  of  Edward  VI.  was  repealed,  and 
peers  accused  of  felony  became  liable  to  the  same  punishments 
as  other  persons. 

When  it  is  remembered,  further,  that  the  whole  administration 
of  petty  justice  and  of  the  preliminary  process  in  graver  crimes 
was  in  the  hands  of  the  landed  gentry,  upon  whose  estates  the 
labouring  classes,  rendered  landless  by  economic  changes,  were 


310  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

fixed,  as  has  been  shown,  by  the  Act  of  Settlement ;  when  it  is 
further  borne  in  mind  that  the  same  justices  had  the  power  of 
fixing  wages,  and  that  the  whole  of  the  working  classes  in  the 
country  were  always  upon  or  over  the  verge  of  pauperism  and 
dependent  upon  the  support  of  the  poor  law,  the  control  of  which 
was  substantially  in  the  same  hands,  it  will  be  recognized  that  the 
nominal  freedom  of  the  English  labourer  down  to  the  beginning 
of  the  reform  period  was  a  blessing  very  much  disguised,  and 
that  the  reahty  compared  unfavourably  with  the  lighter  forms 
of  serfdom.  The  first  stages  in  the  progress  of  the  factory 
system  made  matters  even  worse.  The  new  demand  for  child 
labour  introduced  for  a  period  what  was  in  essence,  if  not  in 
name,  a  form  of  child  slavery,  pauper  children  being  regularly 
imported  in  the  manufacturing  districts  as  apprentices,  and  set 
to  work  under  conditions  as  to  hours  and  also  as  to  housing 
which  would  have  been  onerous  even  at  less  tender  years.  But 
these  abuses,  when  fully  realized  by  the  pubhc,  were  met  within 
a  period  of  time  which,  in  comparison  with  the  normal  slow- 
ness of  reform,  may  almost  be  called  brief,  by  a  series  of  legis- 
lative measures,  overriding  the  so-called  freedom  of  contract, 
and  protecting  the  children  from  their  legal  guardians.  The 
factory  system,  in  short,  reproduced  the  economic  conditions 
under  which,  in  other  circumstances,  a  form  of  slavery  would 
have  arisen.  And  from  this  result  England  and  the  other 
industrial  nations  with  it  have  been  saved  by  a  distinctively 
ethical  movement. 

On  the  Continent  the  direct  manumission  of  serfs  was 
perhaps  more  frequent  than  in  England.  Enfranchisements  en 
bloc  were  common.  We  even  hear  of  such  things  being  done  by 
abbeys.  St.  Benedict  of  Aniane,  in  the  ninth  century,  emanci- 
pates serfs  on  the  land  which  he  receives.^  Charters  were 
sometimes  given  upon  payment  to  whole  villages  and  by  kings 
to  whole  counties.  In  1315  Louis  X.  invited  all  the  serfs  on 
the  CroAVn  lands  to  purchase  their  liberty,  but  the  price  asked 
was  too  high.  A  general  abolition  of  personal  serfdom  was 
demanded  by  the  Third  Estate  at  Blois  in  1576,  and  again  at 
Paris  in  1614.  This  was  not  granted,  but  the  institution  was 
quite  unknown  in  many  provinces  in  the  seventeenth  century. 
It  remained  in  Franche-Comte,  Bourgogne,  Alsace-Lorraine, 
Trois  !£veches,  Champagne,  Bourbomiais,  La  Marche,  Nivernois, 
Berry ;  but  the  burden  was  relatively  light,  and  when  the  Duke 
of  Lorraine  proposed  a  money  commutation  for  their  services 
in  1711,  the  serfs  who  were  to  benefit  by  it  themselves  raised 
*  Ingram,  op.  cit.,  p.  93. 


CLASS  RELATIONS  311 

objections.  The  question  v.'as  raised  by  Voltaire,  and  by  an  edict 
of  1779  Louis  XVI.  enfranchised  the  serfs  of  the  royal  domain  and 
encouraged  general  abolition.  Serfdom  was  finally  abolished  in 
France  without  compensation  on  the  night  of  August  4,  1789, 
along  with  the  other  incidents  of  feudal  tenure.  At  the  same  time 
fell  the  whole  system  of  privileges  which  had  made  the  nobles 
and  the  clergy  castes  set  apart  from  the  mass  of  the  people. 

In  the  German  Empire  the  progress,  which  we  have  seen 
going  forward  until  the  thirteenth  century,  was  arrested  in  the 
fifteenth,  and  a  reaction  took  place,  leading  to  the  Peasants'  War 
at  the  time  of  the  Reformation.  Serfdom  lingered  on,  but  in 
1719-20  it  was  abolished  on  the  Crown  lands  of  East  Prussia  by 
Frederick  William  I.  Frederick  the  Great  attempted  to  forbid 
corporal  punishment  and  aimed  at  a  general  emancipation,  but 
achieved  little  except  in  Prussian  Poland.  The  liberation  of 
the  German  serf  was  to  come  indirectly  from  the  I'rench  Revolu- 
tion. Napoleon  carried  out  emancipation  in  the  conquered 
territory,  and  as  part  of  the  general  preparation  for  resistance 
to  France,  the  Prussian  statesmen  issued  an  edict  in  1807  by 
which  the  whole  population  of  Prussia  was  made  free  by  a 
stroke  of  the  pen.^  Serfdom  admitting  arbitrary  exactions  and 
corporal  punishment  remained,  notwithstanding  the  efforts  of 
Maria  Theresa  and  her  successors,  in  a  great  part  of  the  Austrian 
Empire  down  to  1848.  It  was  abolished  in  Russia  in  1861.  The 
emancipation  of  the  Russian  serf  may  be  taken  as  the  final 
termination  of  the  enslavement  by  law,  whether  complete  or 
partial,  of  white  men.  The  later  stages  of  the  process  in  the  more 
backward  countries  were  thus  clearly  deliberate  acts  of  govern- 
ment, based  upon  general  conceptions  either  of  human  rights  or 
of  the  conditions  of  social  well-being.  And  on  the  whole  the 
continental  serf  gained  sometliing  through  the  delay.  Emanci- 
pated in  England  more  by  economic  causes  than  on  ethical 
principles,  he  tended  to  become  a  landless  labourer,  more  abject 
in  some  relations  than  a  serf  with  defined  rights.  On  the  Conti- 
nent, in  most  countries,  he  retained  his  land,  subject  to  servile 
restrictions,  and  when  the  ethical  movement  struck  off  his 
chains,  it  left  him  a  free  peasant  cultivator.  In  England  his 
practical  freedom  was  to  be  won  at  a  later  date  and  at  the  cost 
of  a  depletion  of  the  rural  districts,  which  is  raising  the  agrarian 
problem  in  a  form  elsewhere  unknown.  So  much  depends  on 
the  nature  of  the  causes  determining  a  change  like  that  from 
servitude  to  freedom,  however  great  the  inherent  importance  of 
the  change  itself. 

1  Ligram,  op.  cit.,  pp.   119-129. 


312  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

13.  The  abolition  of  slavery  and  serfdom  in  the  modern  world 
may,  from  one  point  of  view,  be  described  as  a  process  whereby 
the  obligations  of  group-morality  were  extended  so  as  to  cover 
all  Christians,  or,  at  any  rate,  all  white  Christians.  Unfortun- 
ately, this  result  is  not  the  same  thing  as  a  strictly  universalistic 
moraUty.  As  long  as  the  Christian  communities  lived  in  isola- 
tion and  did  not  come  into  touch  vnth  weaker  races  as  their 
conquerors,  the  matter  was  not  one  of  any  very  practical  moment, 
but  when,  with  the  discovery  of  a  new  world  and  the  circum- 
navigation of  Africa,  a  fresh  economic  position  arose,  making 
slave  labour  industrially  advantageous,  while  at  the  same  time 
a  vast  black  population  was  put  at  the  disposal  of  the  far  stronger 
v/hite  man,  slavery  grew  up  again  in  a  new  and,  in  some  respects, 
a  more  debased  form.  It  is  worth  noting,  as  illustrating  the 
ethical  principle  involved,  that  the  old  Roman  slavery  had 
never  entirely  disappeared.  In  the  eleventh  century  we  find 
Gregory  VII.  exacting  from  Demetrius  of  Dalmatia  a  promise  not 
to  sell  men.  There  was  a  slave  trade  Avith  Mussulmans  in  Venice 
and  in  Sicily  right  through  the  mediaeval  period.  In  the  twelfth 
century  slaves  were  sold  at  fairs  in  Champagne,  and  Saracen 
slaves  v/ere  found  in  the  south  of  France  in  possession  of  a  bishop 
at  that  period.^  Though  the  French  law  in  the  sixteenth  century 
recognized  that  no  slave  could  exist  on  French  soil,  the  maxim, 
as  formula.ted  by  Loisel,  is  appHed  to  those  who  enter  France 
only  upon  their  being  baptized.  But  these  smouldering  embers 
of  slavery  were  now  destined  to  burst  out  into  flame.  The 
Portuguese  began  importing  negro  slaves  in  1442,  and  obtained 
a  bull  sanctioning  the  practice  from  Pope  Nicholas  V.  in  1454. 
The  reason  was  chara.cteristic.  A  great  number  of  the  captives 
had  been  converted  to  the  CathoMc  faith,  "  and  it  is  hoped  that 
by  the  favour  of  the  divine  clemency,  if  this  process  is  continued, 
the  nations  themselves  may  be  converted  to  the  faith,  or  at  any 
rate  the  souls  of  many  from  among  them  may  be  made  of  profit  to 
Christ."  2  In  fact,  the  hope — probably  the  quite  sincere  hope — 
of  saving  souls  paralyzed,  to  say  the  least,  the  protest  which 
would  otherwise  have  been  made  against  what  was  in  essence  a 
revival  of  one  of  the  worst  features  of  barbarism.  It  was  quite 
a  logical  exception  made  by  Pope  Cahxtus  III.  in  1456,  when 
he  prohibited  the  enslavement  of  Christians  in  the  East,  and 
by  Pius  II.  in  1462,  when  he  severely  blamed  Christians  who 

^  So  at  Narbonne  and  in  Provence  in  the  thirteenth  century,  and  in 
Roupsillon  down  to  its  annexation  by  France.  A  Saracen  was  publicly 
so^;l  in  1296  (Viollet,  pp.  329,  330). 

2  Viollet,  p.  330. 


CLASS  RELATIONS  313 

enslaved  negro  neophytes.  When  Columbus  shipped  500  Lidir.n 
prisoners  to  Spain  to  sell  as  slaves,  the  law  of  the  case  was 
investigated  by  Isabella,  and,  theologians  differing  in  their 
view,  she  finally  ordered  the  Indians  to  be  sent  back  to  their 
homes. 1  Meanwhile,  in  the  New  World  the  Spaniards  were 
making  slaves  freely  of  Indians  and  treating  them  with  great 
cruelty.  Las  Casas,  impressed  with  the  horrors  wliich  he  saw, 
was  struck  with  the  idea  that  negroes  would  endure  that  bond- 
age without  sinking  under  it,  and  with  the  most  benevolent 
intentions  gave  the  most  unfortunate  advice  that  residents  in 
ECspaniola  should  be  allowed  to  import  negro  slaves .^  Regular 
black  trafiic  accordingly  began,  notwithstanding  successive 
efforts  made  by  the  Popes,  Avhen  they  grasped  the  situation,  to 
suppress  it.^  All  the  great  trade  nations  of  Western  Europe 
joined  in  the  traffic,  and  must  share  the  blame  alike.  Europe 
itself  w^as  not  preserved  wiiole  from  this  scourge.  In  England, 
indeed,  it  was  held  in  the  case  of  the  negro  Somerset  (1772)  that 
Enghsh  soil  emancipated,  but  this  doctrine,  which  had  been  good 
law  in  France  in  1571,  was  suspended  in  1716  and  again  in  1738. 
Slaves  became  common,  and  were  even  sold  at  Paris  down  to 
1762.  From  the  sixteenth  to  the  eighteenth  century  the  Popes 
themselves  had  Turkish  gailey-slaves,  a.nd  Louis  XIV.,  besides 
these,  had  Jewish  slaves  and  Russian  captives.* 

This  second  slavery  was  put  down  by  a  distinctly  ethical  move- 
ment. It  began  vnih  the  Quakers  in  the  seventeenth  century. 
George  Fox  had  already  desired  the  Friends  in  America  to  treat 
their  negroes  well,  and  "that  after  certain  years  of  servitude 
they  should  set  them  free."  In  1727  the  Society  declared  that 
slavery  was  not  an  allowed  practice.  In  1761  they  excluded 
from  membership  all  concerned  in  it,  and  in  1783  form^ed  an 
association  for  liberating  negroes  and  discouraging  the  traffic. 
The  Pennsylvanian  Quakers  had  condemned  it  from  1696 
onwards.  Many  leading  names  in  English  thought  are  quoted 
in  Dr.  Ingram's  History  as  opponents  of  the  slave  trade  from 
the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century  to  that  of  the  eighteenth. 
Among  them  are  Baxter,  Steele,  Pope,  Cowper,  Day,  Hutcheson, 
Wesley,    Whitefield,    Adam    Smith,    Johnson    and    Paley.     An 

1  Ingram,  142,  143. 

2  "  \\Tiich  advice,"  says  Las  Cas?«s  himself,  "  after  he  had  apprehended 
the  nature  of  the  thing,  he  would  not  have  given  for  all  he  had  in  the  world  " 
(Ingram,  144). 

s  e.  g.  The  Bull  of  Urban  VIII.,  1537,  and  of  Benedict  XIV.,  1741 
(Viollet,  p.  331). 

*  Viollet,  p.  332.  The  position  of  slaves  in  France  and  her  colonies  v.  £8 
minutely  regulated  by  the  Code  Noir  of  Louis  XIV.,  1685. 


314  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

English  Committee  for  the  aboHtion  of  the  slave  trade  was 
formed  in  1787,  and  the  motion  for  abohtion,  which  was  defeated 
in  the  House  of  Lords  in  1794,  was  carried  under  Fox's  premier- 
ship in  1807.^  The  French  Revolution  had  gone  further.  In 
1791  the  old  principle  that  the  French  soil  emancipates  was  re- 
asserted by  the  Convention,  and  in  1794  slavery  in  the  French 
colonies  was  abohshed  by  decree.  But  the  moment  was  ill 
chosen,  as  Hayti  was  in  revolt,  and  Napoleon  restored  slavery 
in  1802,  At  the  Congress  of  Vienna,  British  influence  was  active 
in  obtaining  the  consent  of  other  nations  for  the  suppression  of 
the  slave  trade,  and  France  acquiesced,  in  the  treaties  of  1814 
and  1815.  The  British  and  Foreign  Anti-Slavery  Society  was 
founded  in  1823,  and  secured  Abolition  ten  years  later.  Slavery 
was  abolished  by  France  in  1848,  by  Portugal  in  1858,  by  the 
Dutch  in  1863,  and  by  Brazil  in  1888.  The  founders  of  the 
United  States  had  been  opposed  to  slavery  and  attempted  to 
exclude  it  by  the  Constitution,  but  were  defeated  by  the  opposi- 
tion of  South  CaroHna  and  Georgia.  An  Abohtion  Society  was 
formed  in  1774  and  reconstructed  by  Franklin  in  1787.  The 
Northern  States  adopted  measures  for  abohtion  between  1777 
and  1804,  and  importation  was  prohibited  by  the  United  States 
in  1807.  An  Anti-Slavery  Society  was  founded  in  1833,  and  at 
the  cost  of  civil  war  emancipation  was  proclaimed  in  1863.^ 
Unfortunately,  the  legacy  of  slavery  remains  in  that  racial  feehng 
which  is  the  greatest  unsolved  problem  of  the  American  Common- 
wealth, and  wliich  does  not  become  less  serious  as  the  negro 
population  increases  and  extends  its  borders. 

14.  Slavery  is  no  longer  admittedly  practised  by  any  white 
nation.  On  the  other  hand,  the  problem  of  deahng  with  coloured 
labour  has  not  been  yet  satisfactorily  solved.  Here  and  there 
"  forced  labour  "  has  been  allowed,  and  forms  of  contract  labour 
are  common,  which,  to  say  the  least,  are  difficult  to  keep  free  from 
every  servile  taint.  The  questions  raised  by  the  various  forms  of 
contract  allowed  by  the  British  and  other  civilized  governments 
since  the  abolition  of  slavery  belong,  however,  rather  to  the  con- 
troversies of  the  moment  than  to  the  liistorical  study  which  is  the 
object  of  the  present  work,  and  I  do  not  propose  to  discuss  them 
here.  It  may,  however,  be  allowable  to  say  that  the  modern 
tendency  to  the  concentration  of  wealth,  or  at  least  of  the  forces 
directing  labour  in  a  few  hands,  taken  in  conjunction  \ntli  the 
vast  reserves  of  cheap  labour  to  which  access  has  been  given  by 

*  The  trade  had  been  abolished  by  Denmark  in  1792. 
»  Ingram,  154-182. 


CLASS  RELATIONS  315 

the  opening-up  of  China  and  the  African  continent  reproduce  in 
very  essential  features  the  conditions  out  of  which  great  slave 
systems  have  arisen  in  the  past,  and  the  temptation  to  utilize 
the  cheap  and  relatively  docile  labour  of  a  weaker  and  perhaps 
a  subjugated  race  against  the  well -organized  battalions  of  the 
white  artisans,  is  one  by  which  leaders  of  industry,  being  human, 
carmot  fail  to  be  attracted,  and  therefore  raises  possibiHties 
which  no  statesman  can  ignore. 

The  result  of  this  brief  review  is  to  show  that  the  principle  of 
the  equaHty  of  all  classes  before  the  law  can  hardly  be  said  to  have 
been  accepted  by  the  Western  world  as  a  whole  before  the  revo- 
lutionary period.  The  whole  structure  of  mediaeval  society  had 
been  based  upon  the  principle  of  subordination  and  was  moulded 
in  the  spirit  of  caste.  Confronted  at  all  times  with  the  doctrine 
of  Christian  Brotherhood,  and,  later  on,  with  the  principle  of 
natural  equaHty,  this  structure  was  also  undermined  by  the 
growth  of  industry  and  the  complex  forces,  ethical,  political, 
and  economic,  which  transformed  the  feudal  kingdom  into  the 
organized  state.  Under  these  influences  slavery  proper  dis- 
appeared, as  we  have  seen,  in  the  course  of  the  twelfth  century ; 
and  in  the  most  advanced  nations  serfdom  followed  it  in  the 
period  between  the  thirteenth  century  and  the  sixteenth.  But 
for  the  completion  of  the  work  fully  two  more  centuries  were  re- 
quired. In  the  less  advanced  countries  serfdom  itself  lingered  on 
into  the  nineteenth  century.  In  France,  though  caste  privileges 
grew  more  and  more  out  of  harmony  with  the  spirit  of  the  time, 
they  could  only  be  destroyed  by  a  revolution.  In  England,  where 
they  were  rather  a  practical  consequence  of  pohtical  superiority 
than  the  express  subject  of  legal  enactment,  they  pelded  later, 
but  more  peacefully,  to  the  influences  of  the  Reform  period.  So 
modern  is  the  change  whereby  law  and  public  institutions  have 
turned  towards  equality  rather  than  subordination  as  their  ideal. 
An  ideal  such  equality  must,  perhaps,  always  be.  Wealth  and 
influence  will  always  have  their  weight,  not  only  in  social  life,  but 
in  the  business  of  government  and  even  in  the  administration  of 
justice.  Yet  the  true  spirit  of  caste  is  gradually  being  reduced  to 
a  shadow  of  its  former  self.  Expelled  by  slow  degrees  from  the 
sphere  of  law  and  government,  it  has  been  left  to  amuse  itself 
vdih  a  mock  kingdom  in  the  region  of  ceremonial  and  social 
intercourse,  in  which  the  ghosts  of  bygone  realities  keep  up 
a  mock  state  for  the  amusement  of  the  philosopher. 

As  long  as  class,  racial,  and  national  antagonisms  play  a  part 
in  life  we  cannot  say  that  group-morahty  has  been  altogether 
overcome.    Nevertheless,  the  evolution  sketched  in  the  present 


316  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

and  preceding  chapter  is  of  no  small  significance  for  ethics.  At 
the  outset  men  are  organized  in  small  groups  bound  to  mutual 
aid  and  forbearance,  Avhile  they  are  indifferent  or  hostile  to  out- 
siders. There  is  no  organic  bond  uniting  humanity  as  a  whole. 
Hence  the  captive  enemy  and,  in  principle,  unless  there  are 
special  reasons  to  the  contrary,  the  pea.ceful  stranger  are  "  right- 
less."  But  by  degrees  a  -^^dder  conception  of  obligation  arises. 
Fellow-Greeks,  co-religionists,  fellow-white  men,  ultimately 
fellow-men,  enter  the  circle  to  wliich  obhgations  apply,  and  even 
the  violence  of  conquest  is  limited  by  the  rights  attacliing  to 
the  conquered  as  human  beings.  The  "  group  "  is  thus  widened 
till  it  includes  all  humanity,  at  which  point  group-moraHty  dis- 
appears, merged  in  universalism.  But  the  rights  first  recognized 
are  those  of  the  person.  To  take  into  account  the  rights  of  the 
organized  community  is  a  further  step,  following  logically  from 
the  first,  no  doubt,  but  following  slov/ly.  Here,  too,  we  recognize 
a  slow  advance  in  the  civilized  world,  an  advance  which,  if  un- 
impeded, would  finally  overcome  the  ' '  group-morality  ' '  of  nations 
in  favour  of  a  true  internationalism  of  morals  and  law. 

Turning  next  to  the  internal  composition  of  the  community, 
we  saw  that  the  primitive  group  was  relatively  small  and  homo- 
geneous. But  as  society  grows  divisions  come,  and  a  new  form 
of  group-morality  arises—  distinctions  of  high  caste  and  low  caste, 
bond  and  free,  and  the  like.  In  engendering,  accentuating  and 
maintaining  these  distinctions,  miHtary  conquest,  economic  in- 
equahties,  religious  differences,  race  and  colour  antipathies,  have 
all  played  their  part,  and  up  to  the  middle  civihzation  social  divi- 
sions probably  tend  to  increase  rather  than  diminish.  Combated 
by  the  teaching  of  the  higher  ethical  and  religious  systems,  they 
have  been  mitigated  and  in  large  measure  overcome  in  the 
modern  world.  Most  tenaciously  maintained  where  the  "  colour 
line  "  is  the  outward  and  too  visible  symbol  of  deep-seated 
differences  of  race,  culture,  character,  and  tradition,  they  are 
countered  even  here  by  the  fundamental  doctrine  of  the  modern 
state  that  equal  protection  and  equal  opportunity  are  the  birth- 
right of  all  its  subjects.  Thus,  though  the  colour  line  is  the  last 
ditch  of  group-morality,  here  too  in  the  modern  period,  taken  as  a 
whole,  Universalism  has  made  great  inroads.  With  tlie  improve- 
ment of  communication  and  the  growth  of  commerce,  Humanity 
is  rapidly  becoming,  physicall}'  speaking,  a  single  society — 
single  in  the  sense  that  what  affects  one  part  tends  to  affect 
the  whole.  This  unification  intensifies  the  difficulties  of  ethics 
because  it  brings  into  closer  juxtaposition  races  and  classes  who 
are  not  prepared  hy  their  previous  history  to  live  harmoniously 


CLASS   RELATIONS  317 

together.  Hence  it  is  not  surprising  that  law  and  morals  do  not 
show  a  regular,  parallel  advance.  Nevertheless,  the  upshot  of 
the  evidence  here  reviewed  is  that,  ethically  as  well  as  physically, 
humanity  is  becoming  one— one,  not  by  the  suppression  of  dififer- 
ences  or  the  mechanical  arrangement  of  lifeless  parts,  but  by  a 
widened  consciousness  of  obhgation,  a  more  sensitive  response  to 
the  claims  of  Justice,  a  greater  forbearance  towards  differences 
of  type,  a  more  enlightened  conception  of  human  purposes. 


CHAPTER  VTli 

PROPERTY   AND    POVERTY 

1.  Among  primitive  peoples  there  is  comparatively  little  scope 
for  the  institution  of  private  property.  Apart  from  land  and  its 
produce,  of  which  we  shall  speak  later,  such  peoples  possess  little 
which  can  be  appropriated,  except  their  small  personal  belongings. 
These,  it  would  seem,  belong  to  the  individual  from  the  first. 
Indeed,  tools  and  weapons  are  so  completely  identified  with  their 
owner  that  they  are  very  frequently  buried  with  him  or  destroyed, 
in  the  one  case  that  he  may  use  them  in  liis  future  life,  in  the 
other  because,  as  belonging  to  a  dead  man,  they  are  regarded  as 
dangerous  and  are  therefore  best  done  away  with.  Now  the 
recognition  of  individual  property  in  personal  belongings  and  of 
personal  or  communal  property  in  land  and  its  produce  may 
both  be  explained  as  resting  on  one  and  the  same  principle — the 
principle  of  occupation  and  use.  It  is  the  indi\adual  who  actually 
carries  and  handles  the  spear  or  fisliing-net,  the  family  or  the 
tribe  which  actually  occupies  and  hunts  over  the  land.  But  we 
must  also  allow  for  the  influence  of  sacral  conceptions.  Thus, 
among  the  Kunama,  Dr.  Tylor  remarks  that  a  hedge  may  be 
mended  by  a  cotton  thread.^  That  would  certainly  not  do  in 
the  civihzed  world.  But  then  the  civihzed  man  does  not  fear 
that  death  will  follow  from  a  breach  of  the  fence  as  a  magic  result. 
In  Oceania,^  where  taboo  reaches  its  extreme  development,  it 
is  freely  used  for  protection  of  property,  real  and  personal.  In 
ancient  Babylon  boundary  stones  were  secured  by  an  impreca- 
tion ^ — that  is  to  say,  a  curse  was  laid  upon  them  which  would  fall 
on  those  who  should  remove  them.  The  heap  of  stones  which 
Jacob  and  Laban  set  up  were  to  be  witnesses  between  them,  and 
it  is  possible  that  here,  too,  the  power  to  punish  the  transgressor 
was  conceived  as  l3ang  within  the  stone  itself ;  while  at  a  later 
stage,  in  accordance  with  the  regular  development  of  religion, 
the  curse  was  laid  upon  him  who  moves  the  stone  by  Yahveh. 
When  we  read  of  the  Western  Eskimo,  whose  honesty  is  highly 
praised  by  travellers,  that  other  people's  goods  left  about 
with  a  stone  placed  over  them  are  quite  secure,  we  can  hardly 

^  Tylor,  Contemp.  Review,  April  1873,  p.  704. 

*  Ratzel,  History  of  Mankind,  vol.  i.  p.  285.  ^  Maspero,  p.  762. 

318 


PROPERTY  AND  POVERTY        319 

avoid  wondering   whether  this  is    due    to   simple   honesty  of 
character  or  to  the  magic  qiiahties  of  the  stone. 

The  rights  of  property  stand  on  much  the  same  footing  as 
other  rights  in  early  society.  When  simple  peoples  are  described 
as  dishonest  it  is  generally  because  they  steal  from  strangers  or 
outsiders.  But  this  is  only  an  illustration  of  the  general  principle 
that  strangers  have  no  rights,  except  in  so  far  as  protected  by 
the  law  of  hospitahty.  Thus,  among  the  Red  Indians,  the  guest 
was  safe  while  under  the  roof  of  his  host,  but  might  be  freely 
robbed  on  the  prairie.^  Within  the  community  property  is,  as 
a  rule,  respected.^  There  are,  indeed,  exceptions.  Thus  among 
the  Nagas,'^  in  some  tribes  theft  is  punishable  by  fines,  beating, 
and  even  death,  but  in  two  of  the  tribes  it  is  not  considered  dis- 
graceful at  all.  In  some  peoples  successful  theft  is  held  as 
by  no  means  dishonourable.  The  case  of  Autolycus  has  been 
referred  to  in  chapter  i.  Among  some  of  the  Eskimo  theft, 
when  discovered,  is  merely  held  a  clever  trick ;  *  among  the 
Balantes  in  Africa  it  is  held  honourable,  while  among  the  Kaffirs 
the  children  of  cliiefs  may  steal  Avitliin  their  own  tribe. ^  Even 
in  some  civilized  or  semi-civihzed  communities,  as  at  one  time  in 
ancient  Egypt,  we  find  a  recognized  organization  of  theft  under 
constituted  authorities,  who  duly  restore  the  property  to  the 
owner  on  payment  of  a  portion  of  its  value  .^  But  in  general 
the  difference  between  early  and  developed  law  is  that  the  former 
treats  theft  rather  as  an  injury  to  be  avenged,  the  latter  as  a  crime 
to  be  punished.  This  is  illustrated  by  the  distinction  between 
the  "  manifest  "  and  the  "  non-manifest  "  thief — that  is  to  say, 
between  the  thief  taken  in  the  act  and  the  thief  who  has  got  clear 
away.'    The  owner,  surprising  the  thief  in  the  act  of  carrying 

1  Waitz,  vol.  iii.  pp.  129,  130. 

*  Cf.  Schoolcraft-Drake,  vol.  i.  p.  222.  "  Theft  is  very  scandalous 
among  them  since  they  have  no  locks  but  those  of  their  minds  to  preserve 
their  goods."  (From  Coldan's  account.)  Among  the  Dakotas  pilfering  by 
women  and  children  was  common,  but  the  men  despised  it  as  too  low  a 
practice  for  them  {ib.,  vol.  i.  p.  206). 

3  Godden,  J.  A.  I.,  xxvi.  p.  174.  *  Waitz,  vol.  iii.  p.  309. 

^  Post,  Afrik.  Juris.,  vol.  ii.  p.  83.  Similarly  there  was  a  class  of  privi- 
leged thieves  in  Ashanti. 

®  In  Abyssinia  thieves  are  organized  under  a  chief  who  pays  tribute 
(Post,  loc.  cit.).  Waitz  (vol.  ii.  p.  218)  mentions  that  in  some  parts  of 
Africa  the  thief  keeps  half  of  what  he  steals.  For  the  organization  of 
thieves  in  Egypt,  see  Diodorus,  i.  80,  1. 

'  See  Pollock  and  Maitland,  vol.  ii.  p.  497.  Instances  of  the  "receiver" 
being  vested  with  ownership  of  movables  occur  in  contemporary  Africa 
(Post,  Afrik.  Juris.,  vol.  ii.  p.  162).  On  the  Congo,  according  to  Waitz  {loc. 
cit.),  secret  theft  is  held  slavish,  but  open  robbery  lordly,  and  he  states  that 
the  Kaffirs  generally  condemn  theft,  but  admire  it  when  cleverly  executed 
(op.  cit.,  401). 


320  MOKALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

off  Ilia  goods,  will  naturally  attack,  and  will  very  likely  kill  liim. 
If  so,  who,  on  primitive  principles,  can  blame  him  ?  But  if  he 
does  not  come  up  with  the  tliief,  but  finds  out  the  robbery  ir? 
cold  blood,  then  he  ought  to  control  liis  vindictive  feelings,  and 
be  thankful  if  custom  allows  him  to  get  restitution,  with  perhaps 
something  more,  for  his  pains.  In  early  EngHsh  law,  the  thief 
caught  red-handed  could  be  hanged  \\ithout  opportunity  of 
self-defence  before  an  impromptu  court.  But  an  action  for 
robbery,  even  in  the  twelfth  century,  involved  only  a  double 
restitution.^  In  the  Book  of  the  Covenant,  "  if  the  thief  be  found 
breaking  in  and  be  smitten  that  he  die,  there  shall  be  no  blood- 
guiltiness  for  him.  If  the  sun  be  risen  upon  liim,  there  shall  be 
blood-guiltiness  for  him."  The  owner  should  not  let  the  sun  rise 
upon  his  wrath.  The  thief  must  merely  make  restitution.  If 
the  stolen  animal  is  alive  he  shall  pay  double,  if  he  has  killed  or 
sold  it  "  he  shall  pay  five  oxen  for  an  ox,  and  four  sheep  for  a 
sheep."  ^  The  Moors,  on  the  other  hand,  at  the  present  day  do 
not  punish  theft  by  night,  but  only  by  day,  and  then  only  when 
the  thief  is  caught  in  the  act.^  It  is  clear  that  in  such  distinctions 
as  these  the  law  takes  account,  not  of  the  right  and  the  wrong  of 
the  case,  as  we  should  conceive  it,  but  merely  of  the  degree  of 
resentment  natural  to  the  man  who  is  wronged  and  of  the  manner 
in  which  he  may  be  expected  to  appease  it.  Clearly,  wherever 
the  thief  is  allowed  to  keep  a  part  of  the  stolen  property,  or 
has  simply  to  make  restitution,  stealing  can  hardly  be  con- 
sidered a  wicked  act  in  our  sense  of  the  term,  and  even  where 
restitution  is  double  or  manifold,  we  must  regard  it  as  rather 
intended  to  satisfy  the  injured  party  than  as  a  punishment  of 
the  wrong-doer.'* 

On  the  other  hand,  there  are  also  many  cases,  even  in  the 
uncivihzed  world,  where  theft  is  severely  punished,  not  only  by 
fines,  which  are  a  form  of  manifold  restitution,  but  also  by  beat- 
ing, enslavement,  mutilation,  humiliating  exposure,  and  even 
death.^  Indeed,  as  soon  as  public  punishments  arise,  it  is 
generally  punished  w^th  great  severity.  Thus,  in  England,  an 
action  for  robbery,  which  only  involved  double  restitution  in 
the  time  of  Glanvil,  who  died  in  1190,  was  punished  by  deatl) 
%nd  mutilation  in  the  time  of  Bracton,  who  died  in  1268,®  and 
a  little  while  later  death  was  the  invariable  penalty,  even  in 

^  Pollock  and  Maitland,  vol.  ii.  pp.  494  and  679. 

^  Exod.  xxii.  1-4.  *  Post,  Afrilc.  Juris.,  vol.  ii.  p.  85. 

*  Restitution  is  a  very  common  penalty  in  Africa  (Post,  Ajrik.  Juris., 
vol.  ii.  p.  83). 

*  Instances  of  all  these  in  Africa  (Post,  loc.  cit.). 
^  Pollock  and  Maitland,  ii.  494. 


PROPERTY  AND  POVERTY         321 

the  end  for  the  theft  of  a  shilling ;  while  smaller  thefts — petty 
larceny — were  punished  by  whipping,  pillory,  or  by  the  loss  of 
an  ear,  and  on  repetition  by  death  .^ 

Socially,  by  far  the  moat  important  question  of  property  con- 
cerns what  in  modern  phrase  is  called  the  ownership  of  the  means 
of  production.  The  man,  the  household,  the  clan,  which  com- 
mands the  instrun>ents  and  opportunities  of  providing  for  the 
maintenance  of  life  is  economically  free.  He  who  has  to  use 
the  property  of  others  is,  so  far,  dependent,  and  it  is  this  depen- 
dence which  is  the  centre  of  the  modern  social  problem.  Now 
in  all  societies  the  land  is  one  of  the  essential  means  of  production, 
but  in  a  high  economic  development  the  plant  erected  on  the 
land  becomes  equally  or  more  important.  In  the  lowest  grades, 
on  the  other  hand,  where  the  instruments  of  tillage  are  very 
simple,  or  where  there  is  no  tillage  at  all  and  the  only  weapons 
required  are  those  of  the  chase,  where  a  rude  shelter  can  be  put 
up  anywhere  for  the  night  and  there  is  no  important  accumu- 
lation of  personal  belongings,  the  land  is  the  only  means  of  pro- 
duction that  need  seriously  be  considered*  He  who  has  access 
to  the  land  has,  if  he  be  able-bodied,  the  means  of  maintaining 
himself.  The  question  of  the  evolution  of  property  in  its  earHer 
phases,  then,  is  the  question  of  land  ownership. 

How,  then,  is  land  owned  in  primitive  society  ?  The  evidence 
available  is  of  the  same  kind  that  we  find  in  other  departments. 
There  is  the  history  of  civilized  society  and  the  indications  to  be 
derived  from  its  most  archaic  institutions,  indications  which  in 
tliis  case  have  given  rise  to  lively  and  prolonged  controversy. 
There  is,  secondly,  the  mass  of  custom  observable  among  con- 
temporary societies  of  the  lower  culture,  which,  as  evidence  for 
historical  development,  may  be  used  provisionally  with  the 
customary  cautions.  Unfortunately,  this  evidence  itself  is  by 
no  means  free  from  ambiguity.  It  does  not  enable  us  to  state 
in  universal  terms  that  either  the  communal,  the  individual,  or 
any  other  principle  flourishes  exclusively  at  a  given  grade,  and 

1  In  Rome  the  Law  of  the  XII  Tables — like  most  laws  of  that  stage — • 
distinguished  the  thief  caught  in  the  act — the  fur  manifestus- — from  the 
thief  not  caught  in  the  act— the  fur  nee  manifestus.  The  latter  must  make 
double  restitution,  the  former  is  punished  corporally — in  the  case  of 
robbery  by  night  or  with  the  strong  hand,  by  death ;  in  other  eases  by 
beating  and  slavery.  In  the  later  legislation  the  injured  party  had  choice 
of  a  new  form  of  criminal  action  whereby  corporal  punishment  might  be 
inflicted,  or  of  the  actio  furti  which  carried  infamia  and  double  or  quadruple 
restitution  (Girard,  pp.  392-394).  In  the  Code  of  Hanuniirabi,  both 
death  and  restitution  are  recognized  (sections  6  and  following).  Manu 
prescribes  fines,  corporal  punishment  and  mutilations  for  thefts  of  various 
kinds  (viii.  319  ft.). 

y 


322  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

what  it  has  to  teach  can  only  be  educed  by  careful  and  elaborate 
comparisons. 

Among  hunting  peoples  as  a  whole  our  authorities  most  fre- 
quently deny  any  individual  and  family  ownersliip  of  land. 
Thus,  among  the  Thompson  River  Indians  there  Avas  no  private 
land.  Even  the  territory  of  the  band  was  not  held  exclusively 
but  was  common  tribal  property.  But  it  must  not  be  supposed 
that  the  tribal  territory  was  a  mere  no  man's  land.  On  the 
contrary,  though  the  related  Shushwaps  might  be  allowed  on 
it,  trespass  by  any  one  else  might  be  punished  with  death. 
Further,  game  was  divided  among  the  hunters,  and  a  rich  kill 
generally  among  the  fellow  villagers.^  The  tribe,  then,  exercises 
true  exclusive  ownership  as  against  all  outsiders  except  certain 
coimected  people  whom  it  tolerates,  and  knows  of  no  internal 
divisions.  This  is  true  tribal  property  and  is  a  by  no  means 
infrequent  institution. 

Very  often,  however,  land  belongs  in  common  to  a  section 
of  the  tribe,  a  clan,  or  a  local  group.  Thus,  among  the  Central 
Australians,  while  each  tribe  has  its  known  and  definitely  marked 
area,  within  it  each  local  group  is  similarly  the  collective  owner 
of  a  defined  portion.  This  portion  is  not  further  divided  but  is 
free  to  all  its  members  to  dwell  in  or  to  hunt  over  as  they  \^ill, 
trespass  by  an  outsider  being  strongly  resented,  and  the  bounda- 
ries being  habitually  preserved.  Moreover,  in  this  case  we  can 
find  something  of  a  sacral  basis  for  the  right  of  property,  for  in 
strictness  it  would  seem  that  the  land  belongs  to  the  ancestors 
of  the  "  Alcheringa  "  whose  souls  are  deposited  at  known  spots 
in  the  area,  whence  they  issue  from  time  to  time  and  are  rein- 
carnated in  living  members  of  the  group.^  Among  the  hunting 
and  fishing  trib»s  of  the  Pacific  Coast  the  clan  is,  as  a  rule,  the 
landowner.  Thus,  among  the  Lkungen  Salish,  there  were  twelve 
gentes,  each  with  exclusive  rights  of  hunting  and  picking  berries 
and  fishing  on  a  definite  stretch  of  coast  or  river  bank.^  Among 
the  Thhnkeets  there  was  tribal,  gentile,  and  family  land.^  Some- 
times the  Hmits  are  vague  and  we  come  nearer  to  the  conception 
of  a  no  man's  land.  The  very  primitive  Tsekehne  have  a  tra- 
ditional hunting  ground  for  each  band,  but  the  limits  are  ill 

^  Teit  and  Boaz,  The  Jesup  Expedition,  1900,  p.  293.  The  only  exception 
to  communal  ownership  was  that  artificial  fishing  stations  and  deer  fences 
belonged  to  those  erecting  them  and  were  hereditable.  There  are  very 
similar  rules  among  the  Eastern  Shush wap  (Teit,  vol.  ii.  p.  672). 

'  Spencer  and  Gillen,  ii.  13,  14. 

3  Boaz,  B.  A.,  1890,  p.  569.  So,  too,  among  the  Kwakiutl  (Boaz,  B.  A., 
1889,  p.  833). 

*  Swanton,  R.  B.  E.,  xxvi,  p.  426. 


PROPERTY  AND   POVERTY  323 

defined  and  they  often  hunt  one  another's  land.^  Among  the 
Central  Eskimo  there  were  no  precisely  limited  reservations. 
Each  family  might  settle  where  it  liked,  but  visitors  from  a 
strange  tribe  would  be  an  exception,  and  any  newcomer  would 
have  to  fight  a  duel  with  the  risk  of  being  killed  in  case  of  defeat  .^ 

Not  only  is  the  land  common  to  the  tribe,  clan  or  group,  but 
its  products  are  subject  to  rules  of  customary  distribution  tending 
to  equalize  the  chances  of  obtaining  food,  to  share  superfluity, 
and  obviate  starvation.  Thus,  in  Greenland,  a  godsend  like  a 
walrus  or  a  whale  is  divided  among  the  whole  village,  and  in 
any  case,  if  there  is  a  famine,  the  successful  hunter  must  share 
his  spoil. ^  So,  among  the  Central  Eskimo,  the  regulations  de- 
termining the  ownership  of  game  and  the  obligations  of  the 
hunter  to  his  village  are  elaborate.  A  whale  belongs  to  the  whole 
settlement.  If  food  is  plentiful  a  seal  is  reserved  for  a  man's 
housemates  (usually  a  joint  family),  but  if  scarce  its  flesh  is  dis- 
tributed among  all  the  hunt.*  In  AustraHa,  the  rules  of  distri- 
bution are  numerous  and  varied.  The  Wiradjuri  divide  food 
among  the  whole  community.  The  Gringai  make  equal  division 
of  the  game.  The  Chepara  seem  to  share  all  the  food  in  the 
camp.^  Some  rules  are  elaborate  and  quaint  :  "  In  the  Wotjo- 
baluk  tribe  .  .  .  when  a  man  killed  a  kangaroo  and  there  were  in 
the  camp  his  mother's  brother,  an  old  man,  his  wife's  parents, 
a  married  man  and  two  young  men,  he  gave  the  body  of  the 
kangaroo  to  the  old  man,  who  gave  some  to  his  sister's  son  who 
was  Avith  liim ;  the  head  and  fore  quarters  to  his  wife's  parents  ; 
a  leg,  the  tail  and  some  fat  to  the  married  man ;  and  the  young 
men  had  the  remainder."^ 

Not  infrequently  etiquette  prescribes  that  the  hunter  shall 
take  the  smallest,  worst,  or  last  portion,'  and  it  may  be  that 
while  a  man  feeds  his  own  relations  his  wife  must  look  to  hers 
for  support  rather  than  to  him.^  Not  only  hunting  but  the 
gathering  of  roots,  berries,  etc.,  may  be  subject  to  similar  rules. 
Thus,  among  the  Shushwap,  the  berry  picking  was  carried  out 
by  the  whole  tribe  under  the  direction  of  the  chief,  and  the 
collection  then  systematically  apportioned.^  Among  the  Seri 
every  man  was  entitled  to  support  in  the  first  instance  from 
his   nearest   kin   but   ultimately  from   the   whole   clan.     It   is 

1  Morice,  Trs.  Canadian  Institute,  1893,  p.  28. 

*  Boaz,  R.  B.  E.,  1884-5,  p.  581.  Among  the  Greenland  Eskimo  there 
is  no  private  property  in  land,  but  no  one  builds  at  a  place  where  people 
are  already  settled  without  their  consent  (Nansen,  Eskimo  Life,  p.  109). 

3  Nansen,  loc.  cU.  *  Boaz,  loc.  cit.  *  Howitt,  pp.  764,  767. 

*  ih.,  p.  764.  '  e.  g.  in  S.-W.  Victoria,  ib.,  p.  766. 

«  c.  g.  among  the  Wolgal,  i6.,  p.  764.  »  Boaz,  B,  A.,  1890,  p  637. 


324  MORALS   IN   EVOLUTION 

not  surprising  to  learn  that,  if  persistently  idle,  he  might  be 
ostracized  and  ultimately  expelled.^ 

So  far  we  have  seen  the  communal  principles  at  work  among 
the  hunting  peoples,  the  community  being  sometimes  as  wide 
as  the  tribe,  sometimes  narrowed  to  the  clan  or  local  group. 
But  we  also  find  evidence  of  private  property  among  some  of 
the  lowest  hunters.  The  most  definite  evidence  concerns  the 
Yeddas,  if  it  is  to  be  taken  as  holding  of  their  original  condition 
of  pure  hunters  and  gatherers.  Here  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Seligmann 
tell  us  that  each  little  group  has  its  own  definite  territory,  but 
that  within  it  each  individual  has  his  own  ground,  which  i ;  his 
for  life  and  descends  to  his  heirs.  It  may  be  alienated  only  with 
the  consent  of  the  whole  group,  even  presents  to  children  or  sons- 
in-law  requiring  the  consent  of  every  adult  male,  so  that  what 
we  may  call  eminent  ownership  is  collective,  while  the  individual, 
to  apply  our  phraseology,  is  rather  the  fife  tenant."  Still,  to 
this  qualified  extent,  private  property  in  land  exists  among  the 
Veddas. 

The  Kauralaig,  a  non-agricultural  people  of  the  Western 
Torres  Straits,  also  own  land  in  severalty,^  but  the  only  group 
of  hunters  supplying  numerous  instances  of  individual  or  family 
property  are  the  Austrahans.  Here  Grey,*  who  travelled  over 
a  great  part  of  West  Australia,  Eyre,^  who  knew  the  South  and 
West,  and  J.  D.  Lang,^  writing  of  Queensland,  all  assert  individual 
ownership.  The  subdivision  does  not  seem  to  accord  with  the 
Austrahan  habits  of  life,  according  to  which  we  always  seem  to 
find  a  group,  small,  but  larger  than  the  simple  family,  roaming 
the  country  in  intimate  relations,  and  often  foregathering  with 
others  in  large  numbers.  It  would  be  true  that  in  parts  the 
local  group  is  so  small  as  not  to  exceed  an  enlarged  family,  but 
our  authors  suggest  a  more  distinct  apportionment  to  individuals 
than  this.  Some  light  is  thrown  on  the  question  by  Howitt, 
who  relates  that,  among  the  Yuin,  when  a  child  was  born  the 
father  "  pointed  out  some  hills,  lakes  or  rivers  to  the  men  and 
women  then  present  as  being  the  bounds  of  his  child's  country, 
being  that  where  his  father  lived  or  where  he  himself  was  born 
and  had  lived.  It  was  just  the  same  with  a  girl,  who  had  her 
mother's  country  and  also  that  in  which  she  was  born.  Besides 
this,  the  father  took  the  country  where  his  child  was  born,  if 

i  McGee,  R.  B.  E.,  xvii.  273. 

^  Seligmann,  The  Veddas,  pp.  107,  111,  etc. 

'  Haddon,  Cambridge  Expedition,  v.  284. 

'  Expedition,  p.  232.  *  Journal,  vol.  ii.  p.  297. 

»  Queensland  (18G1),  p.  236. 


PROPERTY  AND  POVERTY         326 

away  from  his  own  locality,  and  the  mother  took  that  where 
her  daughter  was  born  under  similar  circumstances.  .  .  .  One 
of  the  old  men  of  the  Wolgal  said  that  '  the  place  where  a  man 
is  born  is  his  country,  and  he  always  has  a  right  to  hunt  over  it, 
and  all  others  born  there  had  also  the  right  to  do  so.'  "^ 

This  is  clearly  nothing  like  individual  ownership.  It  is  joint 
ownership  by  any  and  all  who  happen  to  be  born  in  a  particular 
district,  and  it  is  intelhgible  if  we  suppose  something  like  the 
Central  Austrahan  beUef  in  the  reincarnation  of  ancestors  to 
be  at  the  back  of  it.  Such  a  belief  would  account  for  certain 
obscure  rights  of  private  property  noted  by  Brough  Smyth  as 
qualifying  the  communal  tenure  of  which  he  was  aware  in  Vic- 
toria,2  and  would  explain  the  system  described  by  J.  Browne  ^ 
on  King  George's  Sound,  where  land  was  possessed  by  famihes 
and  individuals  but  hunted  over  by  the  tribe  (or  probably  the 
group).  It  was  difficult,  says  Browne,  to  say  in  what  the  right 
of  the  owner  consisted  except  that  he  took  the  lead  in  a  fight 
to  repel  or  punish  trespass.  We  must  suppose  local  differences 
in  Austraha,  the  system  in  some  parts  being  clearly  collective, 
but  we  shall  hardly  be  on  safe  ground  in  accepting  pure  indi- 
vidual ownership  for  the  rest.  Howitt's  account  shows  a  possible 
source  of  misunderstanding,  for  any  of  the  men  whom  he  men- 
tions might  and,  if  asked,  probably  would  have  said  of  the  land, 
"  It  is  mine,"  while  at  the  back  of  the  system  is  a  conception 
which  is  neither  individual  nor  collective  but  more  probably 
sacral.  Lastly,  Browne's  account  show^s  how  the  individual  and 
collective  might  be  blended  in  actual  practice.  We  shall  be  on 
the  safest  ground  in  supposing  some  quahfication  of  collective 
by  private  ownership  in  considerable  tracts  of  Austraha,  and 
this  constitutes  the  main  exception  to  the  rule  among  hunting 
peoples  that  land  is  the  common  property  either  of  the  tribe, 
local  group,  or  clan. 

When  agriculture  begins  it  is  generally  in  clearings  that  are 
very  small  in  comparison  with  the  tribal  area.*  Moreover,  the 
clearing  is  temporary.  One  or,  perhaps,  two  or  three  crops  are 
taken,  and,  the  first  fertihty  being  exhausted,  a  new  clearing  is 
made.  The  right  of  hunting  the  whole  area  remains  to  the  whole 
tribe  or  clan  as  the  case  may  be,  and  though  the  individual  family 
is  not  disturbed  in  the  tilling  and  reaping  of  the  land  that  it  has 
cleared  there  can  be  no  question  at  this  stage  of  anything  more 

1  Howitt,  p.  83.  ^  Brough  Smyth,  vol.  i.  p.  144, 

"  In  Dr.  Petermann's  Mitteiluyxgen,  1856,  p.  446. 

'•  Tlius,  Schoolcraft  (vol.  ii.  p.  188)  says  that  the  Dakotae  cultivated 
from  a  quarter  to  two  acres  per  family,  and  estimates  the  total  area  per 
family  at  2200  acres. 


326  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTIOISI 

than  a  possessory  right,  for  permanent  o\\'nership  is  of  no  value. ^ 
Any  man  may  occupy  uncleared  land  or  till  it,  or  the  apportion- 
ment may  be  made  at  the  beginning  of  the  season  by  the  chiefs 
or  council.^  The  harvest  may  be  reaped  in  common  and  the 
stores  apportioned  to  each  single  or  joint  family.^  Where  tillage 
is  separate  possession  may  only  last  for  a  few  years* or  during 
cultivation,  the  land,  if  deserted,  reverting  to  the  community.^ 

^  Thus,  among  the  Dakota,  planting  on  another's  field  gave  no  right  to 
the  crop  (Schoolcraft,  ii.  193).  Among  the  Omaha  each  head  of  a  house- 
hold had  a  possessory  right  recognized  by  the  tribe  during  cultivation,  but 
could  not  sell  it  (Dorsey.^R.  B.  E.,  1881,  p.  366).  Among  the  Brazilian  peoples 
land  is  the  property  of  the  tribe,  the  boundaries  being  fixed  by  magical 
processes,  but  the  possession  of  the  clearings  by  the  small  or  the  joint 
family  is  recognized  as  a  right  (Von  Martius,  i.  81-83). 

^  Thus,  among  the  Kayans,  untilled  land  is  open  to  any  one,  but  once 
tilled  it  passes  into  private  ownership  and  may  be  let  (Nieuwenhuis, 
Quer  durch  Borneo,  p.  159).  Among  the  Sea  Dyaks  a  man  acquires  title  to 
land  by  clearing  it.  Among  the  Hill  Dyaks  only  the  land  near  the  villages 
is  private,  and  the  plots  are  assigned  by  the  tribal  council  so  that  one  road 
serves  all.  The  apportioned  land  becomes  hereditary  (Ling  Roth,  Natives 
of  Sarawak,  vol.  i.  p.  419).  Among  the  Ainu,  the  chiefs  are  said  to  have  seen 
to  the  distribution  of  land  (Batchelor,  p.  157).  Among  the  Roucoyennes, 
large  clearings  round  the  villages  are  apportioned  by  lot  (Coudreau,  Chez 
no9  Indiens,  p.  127  seq.).  Among  the  Creeks,  the  right  of  hvmting  over  the 
tribal  land  was  common  to  all,  but  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  village  the 
community  assigned  lots  to  each  household  according  to  their  desires  and 
convenience  (Bartram,  Trs.  American Ethn.  Society,  1853,  pp.  37-39).  Among 
the  Basonge  Meno,  each  village  owns  a  strip  along  the  river  bank,  the 
harvest  going  to  the  families  severally  {Annales,  Series  iii.  tome  2,  p.  26). 
An  annual  apportionment  of  this  kind  is  the  system  described  in  Tacitus 
{Germania,  xxvi). 

^  Among  the  Creeks,  each  village  had  a  common  field  divided  into  patches 
for  each  family,  the  harvest  was  conducted  in  common,  and  a  certain 
portion  was  set  aside  for  the  common  store  out  of  which  the  needy  were 
supported.  Among  the  Iroquois,  the  land  was  the  property  of  the  tribe. 
The  harvest  was  carried  out  by  the  joint  family  in  common,  and  the  pro- 
ducts distributed  by  the  women  among  the  different  departments ;  though 
the  village  did  not  make  a  common  stock,  the  obligations  of  hospitality 
would  prevent  anybody  from  going  short  (Morgan,  Houselife,  pp.  61-66). 
Common  cultivation  and  division  of  the  harvest  is  also  found  on  the  Sierra 
Leone  Coast  (Post,  AfriJc.  Juris,  ii.  172).  Sometimes  the  communism  is 
of  a  rough  and  general  character  rather  than  a  matter  of  distinct  right. 
Among  some  of  the  Papuans,  for  instance,  every  one  is  expected  to  give 
when  asked.  "  The  people  is  God,"  it  is  irreligious  to  refuse  anything. 
We  see  here  the  borderland  between  regular  communism  and  the  indis- 
criminate profusion  and  liberality  which  are  such  common  characteristics 
of  primitive  life  (Kohler,  Z.  /.  V.  R.,  1900,  p.  369).  The  Karaya  people 
tilled  the  land  in  common  (Verbff.  K6nig.  Mus.,  Bd.  I.  p.  28).  Among 
the  Bororo,  the  work  on  the  plantatioi^s  was  regulated  from  day  to  day  by 
the  chief  (Fric  and  Radin,  J.  A.  I.,  xxxvi.  388). 

*  This  is  common  among  the  North  American  Indians  (Kohler,  Z.  f.  V.  R., 
1897,  p.  402). 

^  e.  g.  in  many  African  tribes  land  is  only  appropriated  while  in  vise. 
On  the  other  hand,  land  often  becomes  hereditary  among  the  Foulah  of 
Fiitajallan,  among  the  Mandingos  and  the  Somali,  but  uncultivated  land 
fails  back  to  the  community  (Post,  A.  J.,  ii.  169,  170). 


PROPERTY  AND  POVERTY        327 

But  as  tillage  develops  and  the  cultivated  land  acquires  a  value, 
it  tends  to  become  permanent.  The  old  communal  rights  may 
now  be  asserted  by  periodical  redistributions.^  Or,  lastly,  the 
redistribution  may  be  given  up,  and  the  lots  become  family 
property,  but  the  eminent  rights  of  the  community  are  still 
recognized — for  instance,  in  customs  regulating  the  methods  of 
cultivation  or  forbidding  alienation  without  its  consent.  These 
rights  will  also  be  found  surviving  in  the  common  pasture,  and 
with  still  greater  persistence  in  the  common  woodland. 

Thus  private  ownership  arises  in  a  very  natural  manner  out 
of  de  facto  occupation.  The  process  would  have  been  better 
understood  and  the  field  of  controversy  reduced  if  the  original 
system  had  not  been  interpreted  by  modern  analogies.  We  are 
not  to  think  of  the  village  in  the  beginnings  of  agriculture  as 
owning  its  land  collectively  like  a  modern  corporation.  We  are 
to  think  rather  of  all  its  members  as  exercising  identical  rights 
upon  it.  Immemorially  each  man  has  hunted  and  each  family 
pitched  its  cabin  where  it  pleased,  and  for  the  latter  the  right 
of  temporary  possession  has  always  been  regarded.  A  similar 
recognition  is  extended  to  the  cultivated  plot,  and  where  many 
want  to  cultivate  near  together,  apportionment  is  made.  There 
is  no  difficulty,  for  there  is  plenty  of  land,  and  when  all  are 
satisfied,  "  superest  ager."  The  waste  and  the  untilled  pasture 
remain  common.  It  is  only  if  population  begins  to  press,  or  if 
the  village  becomes  a  tax-pa3dng  unit  in  a  kingdom,  that  artificial 
means  of  securing  fair  apportionment  suited  to  the  size  of  the 
family,  the  contribution  of  each  to  the  tax,  or  the  capacities  of 


In  the  Code  of  Hammurabi,  it  would  seem  that  leaving  the  land  un- 
occupied for  three  years  destroys  the  title  to  it  as  against  another  person 
who  has  occupied  and  cultivated  it  (clause  30).  Among  the  Khonds, 
occupation  seems  little  restricted  yet  it  passes  into  ownership,  for  land 
so  acquired  may  become  an  object  of  sale  (McPherson,  Memorials  of  Service 
in  India,  pp.  62,  63).  Among  the  Navahos,  we  find  a  transition  to  private 
property  with  the  passage  from  the  pastoral  to  the  agricultural  state.  The 
watering  places  are  still  theoretically  common,  but  with  private  ownership 
of  land  access  to  them  is  barred  (Mindeleff,  R.  B.  E.,  1895-6,  Part  II.  p.  485). 
Among  the  Washamba,  all  uncultivated  land  remains  common,  but  culti- 
vated land  had  its  owner  (Steinmetz,  p.  267).  In  the  mediaeval  manor  the 
pastm"e  was  conunon  after  the  hay  was  cut,  and  the  waste  common  at  all 
times.  The  ancient  Indian  village  also  had  common  pasture  ground  (Manu, 
viii.  237). 

^  As  among  the  Yakuts  (J.  A.  I.,  xxxi.  74)  and  some  of  the  Oraons 
(Howitt,  J.  R.  A.  S.,  1899,  p.  336).  Elsewhere  in  India,  though  the  lots 
have  become  inalienable,  the  tradition  of  redistribution  remains  (Majnae, 
p.  112).  On  the  other  hand,  in  the  Russian  Mir,  the  system  of  periodical 
redistribution  is,  according  to  Kovalevsky,  an  innovation  {Modern  Customs 
and  Ancient  Laivs  of  Russia-  p.  93,  etc.). 


328  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

the  plough  team,  will  be  set  on  foot  and  will  take  the  form  of 
periodical  redistribution  or  of  the  intermixture  of  strips.  But 
the  eminent  ownership  of  the  community  will  not  be  forgotten. 
It  will  be  expressed  in  the  code  of  custom  and  the  rules  of  tillage, 
safeguarded  by  a  manorial  court,  and  in  the  reservation  of  the 
right  of  the  community  to  prevent  alienation  or  to  pronounce  on 
the  admission  of  a  new  settler.^ 

But  meanwhile  another  tendency  is  at  work.  Land  may  be 
said  to  belong  not  to  the  community  but  to  the  chief.  How 
far  this  is  merely  nominal  and  how  far  real  is  often  difficult  to 
tell.  To  the  white  man  the  ownership  of  the  chief  is  as  convenient 
as  it  is  harmonious  with  its  preconceived  views,  for  the  chief  can 
be  got  to  sell,  and  the  establishment  of  his  title  is  then  a  matter 
of  practical  importance.  In  effect,  we  must  suppose  the  chief's 
poAver  to  have  varied  from  that  of  a  representative  figure-head 
to  that  of  administrator  AAdth  restricted  powers,  and  from  this 
upwards  to  the  position  of  a  feudal  lord.^  Finally,  the  differen- 
tiations characteristic  of  material  civilization  appear,  and  we 
have  a  class  of  nobles  owning  the  land  and  of  peasant  cultivators, 
serfs  or  semi -free,  cultivating  it.^ 

This  differentiation,  which  is  of  even  more  fundamental  im- 

1  e.g.  in  early  mediaeval  Germany  (SchrOder,  Lehrbuch  der  Deutachen 
Rechisgeschichte,  pp.  207,  208). 

*  Among  the  Warega,  land  is  said  to  belong  to  the  villagers  in  common, 
represented  by  the  chief  (Delhain,  p.  203).  Among  the  Bahuana,  Torday 
and  Joyce  tell  us  that  land  belongs  nominally  to  the  chief,  but  really  to  the 
community  (J.  A.  I.,  xxxvi.  284).  So  among  the  Singpho  (Wehrli,  I.  A.  E., 
xvi.  34).  Among  the  Thlinkeets,  the  gentile  land  was  vested  in  the  chief 
(Boaz.B.  A.,  1889,  p.  832),  and  among  the  Tolowa,  Powers  (pp.  65,  66)  tells 
us  that  each  chief  inherits  a  portion  of  the  coast  on  behalf  of  his  band, 
^ut  the  chief  may  be  the  authority  to  whom  a  would-be  cultivator  must 
apply,  e.  g.  among  the  Warundi  (Buszt,  p.  469)  and  the  Bageshu  (Roscoe, 
J .  A.  I.,  xxxix.  193).  Among  the  Yoruba,  the  tribal  land  is  vested  in 
the  chief,  who  allots  it  to  the  householders  according  to  their  requirements, 
and  it  becomes  hereditary  and  inalienable.  Finally,  the  land  may  really 
be  the  property  of  the  king  or  nobles  under  him,  and  be  let  out  to  the 
cultivators,  for  labour  service  or  rent  in  kind  or  money — in  fact,  upon  a 
feudal  tenure  or  a  leasehold  system.  Something  like  this  obtains  among  the 
Somali  (Paulitschke,  ii.  44)  and  the  Maguindanaos  (Ausland,  1891,  p.  889). 

Among  early  civilizations  ancient  Egypt  supplies  an  illustration  of  the 
cases  in  which  all  land  belonged  in  theory  to  the  king.  In  fact,  it  was  owned 
in  severalty,  and  might  be  farmed  under  contracts  to  pay  a  proportion 
of  the  harvest  to  the  owner  (Griffiths,  Papyri,  iii.  23,  156).  The  king 
had  practical  expression  in  the  imposts  and  the  corvee,  and,  on  the  other 
side,  the  duty  of  his  representative,  the  nomarch,  to  feed  the  people  in  time 
of  scarcity.  "  I  gave  bread  to  all  the  hungry  of  the  Cerastes  Mountain," 
Bays  the  nomarch  Henku  (5th  Dynasty,  Breasted,  i.  126),  and  the  boast  is 
frequently  repeated. 

*  e.g.  among  the  Igorottes  (Petermann,  Ergbd,  1882,  p.  31)  and  the 
Tacherkessen  (Bodenstett,  p.  204). 


PROPERTY  AND  POVERTY        329 

portance  than  the  transition  from  communal  to  private  ownership, 
since  it  implies  the  formation  of  a  class  of  landless  dependents, 
hardly  appears  in  the  lowest  economic  grades.  We  find  traces 
of  it  in  the  fishing  tribes  of  the  Pacific  coast,  where,  for  instance, 
among  the  Tlilinkeets,  certain  clans  held  land  of  their  own  while 
others  had  to  resort  to  the  tribal  land  or  wait  till  the  owners  were 
"through"  with  them  for  the  season.^  Among  the  Carriers, 
Chilcotin,  and  Western  Shush wap,  the  ownership  of  the  land  was 
confined  to  the  nobles. ^  We  may  compare  the  Guaycuru  hunting 
tribes,  which  compelled  the  Guana  to  till  the  fields  for  them.* 
With  these  exceptions  we  hear  hardly  anything  of  a  landed 
nobility  till  we  come  to  the  second  and  higher  stages  of  agriculture. 
Then,  when  we  compare  our  figures  we  find  a  remarkable  result. 
The  cases  in  which  communal  ownership  is  the  preponderating 
custom,  individuals  and  famihes  being  occupiers  if  anything, 
decline  pretty  continuously  from  the  hunting  tribes  to  the  higher 
agriculture.*  But  there  is  no  corresponding  rise  in  cases  of 
individual  ownership,  which  remains  nearly  constant  through  the 
agricultural  stages.  The  deficiency  is  made  up  by  the  increase 
in  the  cases  of  ownership  by  chief  or  nobles,  and  with  this  we  see 
that  the  way  is  prepared  for  the  class  distinctions  of  civilization.^ 
The  lesson  is  reinforced  by  the  growing  frequency  of  the  instances 
in  which  land  is  let  for  a  consideration.^ 

But  while  the  communism  of  the  village  gradually  wastes  away, 
there  is  also  a  communism  on  a  smaller  scale  which  forms  the 
economic  basis  of  the  joint  family.  The  joint  family  consists  of 
a  whole  group  of  relations  connected  by  father-right  or  mother- 
right,  as  the  case  may  be  ;  the  property  of  this  group  is  generally 
administered  by  the  head,  but  is  owned  and  its  produce  shared 

1  Swanton,  E.  B.  E.,  vol.  xxvi.  p.  425. 

*  Morice,  Trs.  Canadian  Institute,  p.  28.  Other  families  might  himt  the 
land  by  permission  (id.  Proc.  Can.  Inst.  vii.  125).  Among  the  Western 
Shushwap  the  nobles  collected  rents  from  the  commons  and  fined  and  drove 
them  off  for  trespass.  Among  the  Eastern  Shushwap  land  was  tribal 
property  (Teit,  Jesup  Exped.,  ii.  572,  573). 

^  Serra,  Riv.  Trimensal,  2nd  Series,  vii.  206  fi. 

*  The  main  exception  is  that,  owing  to  the  ambiguity  of  the  Australian 
evidence,  there  are  more  clear  cases  of  common  ownership  among  the  Higher 
than  the  Lower  Hunters. 

*  Simpler  Peoples,  p.  251.  The  development  among  the  Pastoral  peoples 
is  less  regular,  but  among  the  Higher  Pastoralists  the  ownership  of 
chief  or  nobles  appears  in  a  large  proportion  of  the  few  cases  which  are 
known. 

*  For  one  or  two  cases  among  fishing  tribes,  see  above,  note  2.  The 
loaning  of  land  in  return  for  the  first  year's  profits  was  common  in  tho 
Eastern  Torres  Straits,  and  occurred  occasionally  among  the  less  advanced 
people  of  the  Western  islands  (Haddon,  Cambridge  Expedition,  vol.  iv. 
p.  147,  and  vol.  vi.  p.  165). 


330  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

by  all  in  common.^  It  is  in  strictness  indivisible  and  inalienable 
It  can  neither  be  sold,  given  away  nor  bequeathed.  But 
within  this  communistic  scheme  we  find  private  property 
arising  in  a  variety  of  forms  in  very  different  degrees.  Thus, 
individual  members  may  acquire  a  peculium  on  certain  con- 
ditions. For  example,  the  daughter,  who  is  allowed  to  retain 
the  savings  of  her  industry  and  take  them  away  with  her  on 
marriage  as  her  dowry .^  Again,  the  joint  family  may  break  up 
into  separate  famihes ;  alienation  may  be  allowed  under  varying 
restrictions  ;  ^  or,  finally,  the  house-father  may  acquire  so  much 
predominance  that  the  common  rights  are  merged  in  him.^ 
The  communal  system  was  from  the  first  compatible  with 

^  The  position  of  the  head  of  the  family  gives  rise  to  much  the  same 
questions  as  that  of  the  chief  in  the  tribe.  How  far  is  the  ownership  (a) 
nominal,  (6)  effective  in  certain  distinct  rights  of  administration,  (c)  abso- 
lute. As  contrasted  cases  we  may  put  side  by  side  the  Baquereue,  where 
the  family  chief  is  said  to  administer  the  common  goods  (Hurel,  Anthropos, 
vi.  285) ;  and  the  Negritos  of  Zambales,  where  he  can  sell  or  otherwise 
dispose  of  the  family  planting  ground  (Reed,  p.  43). 

^  This  appears  to  be  the  only  form  of  private  property  in  the  Rxissian 
joint  family  down  to  the  present  day  (Kovalevsky,  Modern  Customs, 
p.  69).  Among  the  Km-ds  of  Eriwan,  the  wife's  dowry  is  the  only  property 
held  distinct  from  that  of  the  family  (von  Steinen,  p.  227). 

*  A  strong  case  is  the  Hebrew  Law  of  Jubilee  by  which  all  land  reverted 
to  its  original  owners  at  the  end  of  fifty  years ;  this  in  effect  provided  that 
family  property  should  not  be  permanently  alienable.  The  proprietary 
rights  of  the  tribe  are  also  maintained  in  the  priestly  code  by  the  rule 
prohibiting  daughters  who,  failing  sons,  have  inherited  property,  to  marry 
out  of  the  tribe  (Numbers  xxxvi.).  More  commonly  a  right  of  re-piurchase 
remains  where  alienation  has  been  allowed.  The  French  right  of  retrait 
liqnager  was  not  finally  abolished  till  1790  (Viollet,  p.  563). 

^  In  early  Rome  the  family  property  was  conjoint,  but  the  system  was 
much  modified  by  the  power  of  the  Roman  paterfamilias  and  also  by  the 
right  of  the  heirs  to  demand  partition  at  the  death  of  the  father.  There  was 
also  probably  a  wider  primitive  community  of  land  as  between  possibly  the 
whole  people  or  more  probably  the  gens  (Girard,  p.  249). 

For  the  varying  positions  of  the  father  in  the  Indian  household,  see  J.  D. 
Majme,  Hindu  Law  and  Usage,  p.  222  ff.  Majme  makes  the  distinction 
between  the  patriarchal  and  the  joint  family  turn  on  the  question 
whether  on  the  death  of  the  eldest  ascendant  the  family  do  or  do  not 
remain  together  (p.  223).  He  points  out  that  under  the  patriarchate  all 
acquired  property  fell  to  the  father.  In  this  stage  the  head  of  the  house- 
hold acquires  private  property  indeed,  but  at  the  expense  of  all  the  rest. 

In  early  Greece,  land  was  the  common  property  either  of  the  community 
or  of  the  tribe  or  gens.  Common  ownership  would  seem  to  have  survived 
in  the  hills  and  woodland,  and  in  respect  to  mineral  rights.  Private  land 
was  at  Sparta  inalienable  and  therefore  really  the  property  of  the  family, 
and  in  Attica  alienable  but  subject  to  closely  defined  laws  of  inheritance, 
and  to  supervision  by  the  law  as  against  waste.  The  division  was  accom- 
plished by  the  middle  of  the  seventh  century  in  Attica.  But  it  must  be 
remembered  that  there  was  everywhere  in  Greece  a  race  of  original 
cultivators,  who  either  became  helots  or  more  or  less  dependent  on  the  new 
lords  (Wilamowitz-Mollendorf,  61,  62,  82). 


PROPERTY  AND  POVERTY  331 

inequality,  for  one  family  would  be  stronger  and  more  numerous 
than  another,  and  as  soon  as  accumulation  began  and  the  practice 
of  destropng  the  property  of  the  dead  gave  way,  inequahties 
would  be  cumulative  in  their  ejffect.  Redistribution,  or  the 
simple  liberality  of  private  manners,^  will  merely  be  occasional 
and  clumsy  brakes  upon  a  prevailing  tendency.  The  clamour  for 
y^s  dvaSacr/xo5,  of  which  we  hear  so  often  in  Greek  history,  was 
more  an  assertion  of  old  quasi -communistic  ideas  than  of  revolu- 
tionary innovation.  The  communal  disposition  of  lands  acquired 
by  conquest  offered  the  Romans  repeated  opportunities  of 
counteracting  the  monopoly  of  ownership  by  the  rich,  and  from 
the  Licinian  Rogations  to  the  Gracchan  revolution,  and  from  the 
Gracchi  to  the  settlement  of  the  veterans  after  the  civil  war,  was 
the  focal  point  of  social  convulsion  and  pohtical  revolution. 
Given  private  property  and  inheritance,  there  is  no  difficulty  in 
accounting  for  inequahty .  The  difficulty  which  every  civihzation 
has  had  to  face,  and  our  own  most  of  all,  is  that  of  stemming  the 
tide.  But  how  the  inequahty  of  shareholders  in  a  village  was 
transformed  into  the  relationship  of  lord  and  vassal  is  a  more 
difficult  question,  and  the  answer  is  probably  different  in  different 
cases.  Pohtical  and  fiscal  causes  co-operated  Anth  the  indus- 
trial factor.  The  rich  man  might  become  a  chief,  or  the  chief, 
primarily  indistinguishable  in  mode  of  life  from  his  followers  as 
we  so  often  find  him,  might  become  a  rich  man.  In  the  pastoral 
stage  in  particular,  flocks  and  herds  might  be  accumulated  to 
great  size,  while  a  pest  or  a  drought  might  reduce  individuals  to 
the  status  of  proletarians.  When  villages  grew  into  kingdoms  or 
were  subordinated  to  a  conquering  clan,  governors  were  appointed 
to  be  responsible  for  order  and  taxes,  and  these  might  either  be  the 
old  headmen,  whose  position  would  thus  undergo  a  great  change, 
or  followers  of  the  conqueror,  or  other  members  of  the  ruhng 
race.  The  new  ruler  would  have  lands  apportioned  him  for 
maintenance,  and  labour  service  secured  to  him  that  he  might 
be  free  to  maintain  his  dignity  and  perform  his  pubhc  functions. 
By  some  such  steps  as  these  the  Teutonic  village  seems  to  have 
grown  into  the  mediaeval  manor,  in  which  every  man,  lord  and 
vassal  ahke,  holds  his  property  not  absolutely  but  subject  to  the 
performance  of  customary  service.  Tlie  commutation  of  personal 
service  for  rent  brought  the  mass  of  the  English  cultivators  to 
the  most  favourable  position  that  they  have  ever  enjoyed,  but  it 

*  Among  the  Roticoyennes  no  one  has  any  difficulty  in  finding  sustenance 
on  the  land  of  another  family  while  his  own  clearing  is  getting  ready 
(Coudreau,  op.  cit.  241),  and  in  British  Guiana  a  village  whose  crops  fail 
lodges  itself  upon  another  (im  Thurn,  op.  cit.  p.  253). 


332  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

was  a  precarious  and,  as  it  proved,  fleeting  prosperity.  For  the 
indefiniteness  of  unvaitten  custom  left  them  at  the  mercy  of  the 
lord  when  it  became  his  interest  to  enclose,  and  the  transformation 
to  absolute  ownership  by  the  minority  meant  the  total  loss  of 
ownership  by  the  greater  number.  The  social  question  in  England 
which  the  Industrial  Revolution  must  in  any  case  have  raised 
in  an  acute  form,  was  rendered  almost  desperate  by  the  contem- 
pgrary  dispossession  of  the  peasant  cultivator,  and  the  first  half 
of  the  nineteenth  century  found  the  mass  of  the  EngHsh  people 
at  the  lowest  depth  of  economic  depression. 

Meanwhile,  land  has  long  ceased  to  be  the  only  important  means 
of  production.  From  the  beginnings  of  pasture,  and  with  the 
application  of  animal  power  in  agriculture  and  transport,  stock 
became  an  important  factor  in  wealth.  The  rise  of  industry, 
commerce,  and  the  consequent  formation  of  towns  estabhshed 
classes  of  artisans  and  merchants,  who  gradually  abandoned  the 
cultivation  of  land  and  lived  by  manufacture  and  exchange. 
Capital  lent  itself  more  readily  to  absolute  ownership,  exchange, 
and  free  bequest  than  land,  and  capital,  which  becomes  more  and 
more  a  mere  paper  lien  on  the  industry  of  others,  occupies  the 
larger  share  in  the  economic  life  of  the  advanced  community. 
It  is  in  the  accumulation  and  use  of  capital  that  absolute  owner- 
ship displays  its  full  power,  and  that  the  contrasts  of  gigantic 
accumulation  and  utter  destitution  are  most  dramatically  dis- 
played. Speaking  very  roughly,  we  may  say  that  humanity  has 
liitherto  known  three  stages  of  economic  development.  In  the 
first,  the  fruits  of  the  earth  are  open  to  all  to  gather.  There  is 
general  poverty,  but  also  general  opportunity.  In  the  second, 
labour,  like  all  social  life,  is  more  organized,  men  have  their 
status  of  master  or  slave,  lord  or  vassal,  superior  or  dependent. 
There  is  disciphne  but  not  freedom.  In  tbe  third,  while  the 
individual  is  free  to  make  his  own  career  within  the  limits  of  the 
social  order,  it  falls  out  through  the  working  of  competition  and 
the  cumulative  factor  of  inheritance,  that  there  are  those  who 
have  a  lien  on  the  fruits  of  earth  in  the  industry  of  others,  and 
those — and  they  are  the  majority — who  have  none.  The  man 
of  property  and  the  man  of  none  are  the  contrasted  figures  of 
modern  civihzation,  and  their  reconciliation  a  problem  wliich 
becomes  more  urgent  as  industrialism  advances. 

2.  Private  property,  held  in  absolute  ownership,  produces  a 
basis  for  the  free  exchange  of  goods,  and  from  the  exchange  of 
goods  arise  commerce,  the  division  of  labour  and  free  industrial 
enterprise.     In  its  early  stages  society  seems  to  know  exchange 


PROPERTY  AND  POVERTY  333 

first  in  the  form  of  Gifts.  A  makes  a  present  to  B  and  expects  B 
in  due  season  to  make  an  adequate  return.  Quite  an  elaborate 
traffic  may  develop  on  this  basis  as  has  recently  been  shown  by 
Dr.  Malinowski  in  his  "  Argonauts  of  the  Western  Pacific,"  and 
in  a  modified  form  it  is  the  method  of  the  "  Silent  Trade."  Be- 
coming more  commercial  it  takes  the  form  of  barter.  Barter 
may  be  effected  by  the  handing  over  of  both  objects  simultane- 
ously, but  if  it  is  to  become  a  normal  part  of  the  economy  it 
is  necessary  to  rely  on  promises,  and  thus  exchange  generates 
contract.  But  the  conception  of  a  binding  contract  is  not  reached 
at  a  stroke.  There  are  early  laws  which  recognize  no  con- 
tractual undertaking  at  all  as  binding  for  the  future.^  They 
know  only  those  which  are  completed  immediately  on  both  sides, 
like  a  sale  or  an  exchange  of  goods.  It  is  a  step  onwards  when 
a  form  is  prescribed,  the  fulfilment  of  which  makes  the  contract 
binding.2  But  still  it  is  the  legal  form  rather  than  the  ethical 
element,  the  promise,  which  has  force. 

"  That  which  the  law  arms  with  its  sanctions  is  not  a  promise, 
but  a  promise  accompanied  with  solemn  ceremonial.  Not  only 
are  the  formalities  of  equal  importance  with  the  promise  itself, 
but  they  are,  if  anything,  of  greater  importance.  .  .  .  No 
pledge  is  enforced  if  a  single  form  be  omitted  or  misplaced,  but, 
on  the  other  hand,  if  the  forms  can  be  shown  to  have  been 
accurately  proceeded  with,  it  is  of  no  avail  to  plead  that  the 
promise  was  made  under  duress  or  deception.  The  transmuta- 
tion of  this  ancient  view  into  the  familiar  notion  of  a  Contract 
is  plainly  seen  in  the  history  of  jurisprudence.  First,  one  or 
two  steps  in  the  ceremonial  are  dispensed  with ;  then  the  others 
are  simplified  or  permitted  to  be  neglected  on  certain  conditions ; 
lastly,  a  few  specific  contracts  are  separated  from  the  rest  and 
allowed  to  be  entered  into  without  form,  the  selected  contracts 
being  those  on  which  the  activity  and  energy  of  social  intercourse 
depend.  Slowly,  but  most  distinctly,  the  mental  engagement 
isolates  itself  amid  the  technicalities,  and  gradually  becomes  the 
sole  ingredient  on  which  the  interest  of  the  jurisconsult  is  con- 
centrated. .  .  .  Forms  are  thenceforward  only  retained  so  far  as 

1  See  Schroder  (p.  63)  for  the  Primitive  Germans  ",wie  alle  Naturvolker." 
Post,  Orundriss,  vol.  ii.  p.  617  seq.  Girard,  Manuel,  p.  417,  on  early 
Roman  Law  :   "  Nuda  pactio  obligationem  non  parit." 

^  For  the  form  of  the  Roman  Nexum,  see  Maine,  Ancie^it  Law,  p.  320. 
The  oath  or  the  ordeal  are  common  forms  ;  for  instances,  see  Post,  loc.cit.  A 
more  substantial  guarantee  ia  the  requirement  of  a  deposit  as  among  the 
Chinese  (ib.,  p.  619). 


334  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

they  are  guarantees  of  authenticity  and  securities  for  coution 
and  deliberation."  ^ 

Once  recognized  as  fully  binding  in  morals  and  law,  the  im- 
portance of  contract  as  an  element  in  social  life  increases  \nih. 
every  step  forward  in  civihzation.  At  the  outset  its  scope  is 
narrowly  limited  by  the  social  structure.  As  long  as  the  old 
grouping  remains  by  which  a  man  has  a  fixed  place  as  member 
of  a  clan,  a  joint  family,  a  village  community,  he  is  scarcely  free 
to  enter  into  obligations  upon  his  ©"wn  account.  He  cannot 
bind  himself  without  binding  others,  and  so  obhgations  must  be 
entered  into,  if  at  all,  between  communities  rather  than  indi- 
viduals. Hence  the  part  played  by  voluntary  contract  in  life  is 
insignificant.  Again,  in  the  earher  civihzations,  rules  of  caste, 
or  the  inherited  obhgations  of  feudal  tenure,  fix  each  man's 
place  and  function,  and  greatly  curtail  his  opportunities  for 
entering  into  voluntary  relations  Avith  other  men.  As  these 
barriers,  one  after  another,  break  down,  there  arises  a  new 
mobility  in  the  social  world.  Instead  of  fellow-clansmen,  or  lord 
and  vassal,  bound  to  each  other  by  hereditary  and  unalterable 
ties,  we  have  merely  fellow-citizens,  who  have  no  special  ties  but 
those  which  they  form  for  themselves,  who  come  together  for 
mutual  aid  and,  if  not  pleased  with  each  other,  can  separate 
again.  The  old  solid  structure  of  society,  in  wliich  each  atom 
was  definitely  bound  to  its  neighbours,  has  deliquesced  into  a 
mass  of  freely-moving  molecules.  The  process  is  completed  in 
the  modern  world  by  the  comparative  ease  with  which  the  last 
barrier  —  that  of  the  state  frontier  —  is  overleapt.  Capital 
migrates  with  perfect  freedom,  human  beings  almost  as  easily  in 
proportion  as  ahen  laws  have  ceased  to  be  oppressive,  and  the 
same  broad  civic  rights  are  recognized  in  all  the  advanced 
nations.  In  the  new  structure  of  society  it  is  more  and  more 
true  that  the  whole  world  is  open  to  the  individual,  though  it  is 
also  true  that  he  is  in  a  sense  alone  in  its  vastness. 

3.  Free  contract  and  private  property  are  the  foundations  of 
civilized  economics,  but  they  bring  their  own  problems  in  their 

1  Maine,  Ancient  Law,  p.  313. 

For  stages  in  the  development  from  the  nexum  to  the  consensual  contract, 
336  Maine,  op.  cit.,  p.  338.  Maine  points  out  that  the  moral  element  first 
enters  decisively  into  the  Real  Contract  where  part  performance  or  one-sided 
performance  imposes  the  duty  of  fulfilment.  Several  civilized  peoples 
recognize  a  right  of  one-sided  retractation,  at  any  rate  within  a  certain 
limit  of  time.  Thus  Manu,  viii.  sections  222,  223.  According  to  Post 
(loc.  cit.)  the  law  of  Islam  originally  gave  a  right  of  retractation  holding  until 
the  parties  had  separated.  The  ancient  Babylonian  seller  could  re-purchase 
by  repajmaent  with  interest,  and  his  family  had  a  similar  right  {ib.). 


PROPERTY  AND  POVERTY  335 

train.  At  once  the  cause  and  effect  of  the  breakdown  of  the 
old  social  groupings,  the  accumulations  of  wealth  which  they 
render  possible  bring  about  new  divisions,  new  contrasts,  new 
antagonisms.  On  this  side,  in  all  the  more  virile  races  their 
work  has  been  combated  stoutly,  if  not  always  wisely,  by  the  best 
citizens  and  often  by  the  religious  leaders.  The  old  communal 
rights  are  furbished  up  anew,  as  in  the  Sabbatical  year  and 
the  later  year  of  Jubilee.  The  prophets  thunder  against  those 
who  grind  the  face  of  the  poor.  Exactions  threatening  serious 
diminution  of  the  roll  of  citizens  are  met  by  the  abohtion  of 
debt  slavery,  by  a  general  cancelling  of  debts,  perhaps  by  a 
division  of  lands.  In  particular,  usury  is  denounced  as  unnatural 
by  the  philosopher  or  as  ^vicked  by  the  prophet.  Religion  con- 
secrates poverty,  or  inspires  attempts  at  a  deliberate  communism. 
Yet,  after  all,  antiquity  has  handed  on  the  problem  unsolved 
to  the  modern  world,  and  not  only  unsolved  but  replete  -with 
difficulties  more  formidable  in  proportion  as  the  emancipation 
of  the  individual  is  more  complete  and  the  forces  at  the  com- 
mand of  industrial,  commercial  or  financial  genius  immeasur- 
ably greater  than  at  any  previous  epoch.  The  sense  of  these 
difficulties  has  deeply  affected  modern  legislation.  There  are 
few  countries  in  which  contracts  in  industrial  matters  are  left 
wholly  unregulated.  Li  England  in  particular,  we  have  a  vast 
mass  of  industrial  legislation,  dating  back  at  least  to  the  Factory 
Act  of  1802,  restricting  in  numerous  directions  the  agreements 
which  may  be  made  between  employer  and  employed.  In  quite 
a  similar  spirit  agrarian  legislation  has  often  restricted  freedom 
of  bargaining  as  between  landlord  and  tenant.  Yet  the  de- 
feriders  of  such  legislation  are  by  no  means  compelled  to  dis- 
parage freedom  of  contract.  They  may  perfectly  recognize  that 
for  individuals  to  have  the  power  of  entering  into  obligations 
without  restraint  arising  from  their  birth  or  status  is  one  of  the 
leading  differentiae  of  the  higher  civilization.  But  they  can 
point  out  that  in  this  relation  freedom  has  a  somewhat  ambiguous 
meaning.  The  starving  man  may  be  free  by  the  law  of  the  land, 
but  is  not  free  by  the  law  of  the  facts  to  reject  the  only  bargain 
which  enables  him  to  obtain  food.  A  contract  is,  in  fact,  never 
altogether  free  unless  the  parties  to  it  are  fairly  on  terms  of 
equaUty,  and  they  are  not  on  terms  of  equahty  if  the  con- 
sequences of  rejecting  the  bargain  will  be  vastly  more  serious  to 
the  one  than  to  the  other.  When  economic  conditions  destroy 
this  balance  of  equality  it  is  held  that  the  principle  underlying 
free  contract  is  rather  maintained  than  disturbed  by  state 
regulations  proliibiting  contracts  that  are  proved  to  be  injurious 


336  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

to  one  of  the  parties.  Thus,  though — or  let  us  rather  say  precisely 
because — "  contract  "  is  the  basis  of  the  modern  social  order,  the 
character  of  contracts  is  a  matter  to  which  the  state  cannot  and 
does  not  remain  indifferent.  If  this  analysis  is  correct,  modern 
industrial  legislation  does  not  reject  free  contract  as  an  exploded 
principle,  but  is  rather  seeking  to  get  beneath  the  surface  of  the 
terms  to  the  point  where  freedom  is  really  to  be  found  j  and  in 
this  effort  the  conception  of  free  contract,  it  would  appear,  must 
undergo  a  certain  reconstruction . 

Sometliing  similar  seems  to  have  occurred  in  the  attitude  of 
legislation  to  the  idea  of  private  property.  It  is  difficult  to  speak 
with  certainty  on  a  question  where  all  the  principles  involved 
are  matters  of  contention  between  rival  parties,  but,  judging  as 
far  as  possible  from  the  trend  of  actual  legislation  alone,  certain 
results  emerge.  In  the  first  place,  the  modern  state  is  committed 
to  a  wider  conception  of  its  functions  than  that  of  maintaining 
order  or  defending  itself  against  aggression.  In  various  direc- 
tions it  takes  active  measures  for  the  promotion  of  common 
objects  which  experience  has  shown  to  be  unattainable  by 
individual  effort.  Of  these  objects  some,  like  state  education, 
touch  the  interests  of  the  poor  more  directly  than  those  of  the 
rich,  while  others,  hke  the  provision  for  the  maintenance  of  the 
indigent,  avowedly  benefit  the  poor  alone.  Yet  it  has  to  be 
recognized  that  if  the  cost  of  these  objects  were  thrown  by  taxa- 
tion on  the  poorer  classes  they  would  largely  defeat  their  own 
purpose,  by  intensifying  the  poverty  wliich  they  are  intended  to 
relieve.  Modern  legislation,  therefore,  cannot  wholly  escape  the 
criticism  that  it  tends  to  throw  upon  the  wealthy  the  oost  of 
measures  which  primarily  benefit  the  poor.  Now,  to  the  strict 
upholder  of  the  absolute  right  of  private  property  all  such 
legislation  must  appear  iniquitous.  To  him  the  right  of  the 
individual  against  the  state  stands  on  just  the  same  footing  as 
his  right  against  any  other  individual.  The  right  of  the  state 
to  levy  taxes  for  its  own  needs  is,  indeed,  necessarily  admitted, 
but  this  taxation  is  regarded  as  a  kind  of  exaction  imposed 
by  the  established  authority  and  justified  only  by  the  needs 
of  social  order  and  national  defence.  Any  tampering  with 
the  possessions  of  one  class  for  the  benefit  principally  of  another 
is  mere  spoHation.  The  defenders  of  the  present  trend  of 
economic  legislation,  if  they  take  any  higher  ground  than  that 
of  temporary  expediency,  are  forced  in  effect  to  question  this 
absoluteness  of  private  rights.  Without  necessarily  being  com- 
mitted to  any  sociahstic  scheme  of  economic  organization,  they  ' 
maintain  that  the  rights  of  property  rest  upon  the  goodwill  of 


PROPERTY  AND  POVERTY         337 

society,  which  provides  and  pays  for  the  forces  necessary  to  main- 
tain them  and  which  may  modify  and  at  times  has  modified 
them  in  important  particulars  (e.  g.  in  relation  to  inheritance  and 
bequest).  They  urge,  further,  on  economic  grounds  that  there 
is  a  social  element  in  value — the  growth  of  society,  its  good 
order,  the  industries  and  exchanges  which  it  facilitates,  actually 
creating  some  kinds  of  wealth  (e.  g.  much  of  the  value  of  urban 
sites  and  of  municipal  monopolies),  and  entering  as  a  factor  into 
others.  Even  such  a  factor  in  production  as  good  workmanship 
is  in  part  attributable  to  the  social  order.  The  numerous 
intelhgent,  highly  skilled  and  steady  workmen  whom  a  modern 
engineer  can  count  upon  finding  ready  to  his  hand  put  him  into 
a  very  different  position  to  that  of  Watt  or  even  Stephenson.  The 
existence  of  such  a  class  is  due  to  complex  causes,  but  in  large 
measure  it  is  attributable  to  the  great  social  reforms  of  the  inter- 
vening period,  and  the  wealth  that  the  class  of  skilled  artisans 
create,  whether  it  takes  the  form  of  profits  to  the  employer  or 
wages  for  themselves,  has  its  root  in  social  conditions  which 
created  them  and  were  not  created  by  them.  To  put  it  more 
generally,  the  maintenance  of  good  social  order  is  the  condition 
of  developed  industry,  and  therefore  of  the  wealth  arising  from  it. 
Now  those  who  emphasize  these  social  factors  in  value  are  led 
to  question  the  absoluteness  of  the  rights  of  private  property 
when  urged  against  the  state,  and  to  contend  that  they  should 
be  viewed  rather  in  relation  to  the  social  organization  as  a  whole 
and  defined  in  accordance  with  its  needs.  In  this  organization 
the  individual  has  his  place  as  a  responsible  agent,  whose  duty  it 
is  to  do  useful  work  and  whose  right  it  is  to  receive  such  reward 
as  will  call  forth  and  serve  to  maintain  his  energies  at  their  best. 
Society  on  its  side  has  the  duty  of  maintaining  and  improving 
the  social  order,  and  assuring  to  all  its  members  the  opportunity 
of  finding  their  places  within  that  order.  That  it  may  perform 
this  duty,  it  has  the  corresponding  right  to  a  share  in  the  wealth 
which  it  helps  to  create,  and  it  does  not  go  beyond  its  share  aa 
long  as  it  leaves  to  energy,  talent  and  initiative,  devoted  to  useful 
ends,  full  scope  for  occupation  and  the  stimulus  of  adequate 
reward.  Such,  in  briefest  outline,  seems  to  be  the  principle 
underlying  much  of  modern  legislation — a  principle  which,  it 
will  be  seen,  implies  a  certain  reconstruction  of  the  conception  of 
property,  just  as  we  saw  above  that  other  legislative  tendencies 
compelled  a  reconstruction  in  the  conception  of  contract. 

4.  With  the  growth  of  property  and  the  development  of  trade 
is  closely  bound  up  the  question  of  the  treatment  of  those  v.ho 


338  MORALS  IN   EVOLUTION 

are  submerged  in  the  process.  But  this  opens  the  wider  ethical 
question  of  the  whole  attitude  of  society  to  the  helpless,  the 
suffering  and  the  dependent.  In  this  relation  we  shall  have  to 
admit  that  the  development  of  personal  responsibility  as  shown 
in  the  gro^\'th  of  private  property  and  of  contract  has  its  hardening 
side.  The  brightest  aspect  of  primitive  life  is  seen  in  its  free- 
dom of  giving,  its  expansive  and  often  chivalrous  hospitahty, 
induced  partly  by  the  sense  of  a  common  necessity,  but  certainly 
facilitated  by  communal  Uving.  In  the  whole  department  of 
conduct  which  concerns  the  treatment  of  the  helpless,  whether 
it  be  the  aged  or  the  infirm,  the  child  or  the  stranger,  the  diver- 
gence of  the  primitive  from  the  civiHzed  point  of  view  both 
for  good  and  for  evil  is  strongly  marked.  We  have  the  key 
to  the  difference  if  we  keep  ahvays  in  mind,  on  the  one  hand, 
that  primitive  ethics  knows  notliing  of  those  rights  inherent  in 
personality  upon  v/liich  the  civilized  order  is  founded,  but  that, 
on  the  other  hand,  through  the  very  absence  of  individual  re- 
sponsibiHty  the  movements  of  pity  have  free  play,  while,  through 
the  prevalence  of  family  and  village  communism,  they  have  a 
simple  and  natural  means  ready  to  hand  for  the  relief  of  indigence. 
Both  points  appear  in  the  treatment  of  the  stranger.  As 
such  he  is  right  less.  He  belongs  to  no  clan,  and  it  is  therefore 
nobody's  business  to  avenge  him  if  robbed  or  slain.  He  must 
find  a  protector  if  he  would  be  safe.  Yet  if  he  once  enters 
into  the  bonds  of  hospitahty  he  is  sacred.^  Thus  the  stranger 
found  outside  a  Red  Indian  camp  might  be  treated  as  an  enemy ,2 
but  once  admitted  as  a  guest  he  is  sure  of  a  hospitable  recep- 
tion. The  communal  living  in  the  joint  household  accustomed 
the  Indian  to  the  habit  of  readily  sharing  what  he  had  "svith  those 
who  needed  it.^  The  Indian,  says  Morgan,  "  would  surrender  his 
dinner  to  feed  the  hungry,  vacate  his  bed  to  refresh  the  weary,  and 

^  In  a  paper  read  before  the  Sociological  Society,  Dr.  Westermarck  has 
advanced  strong  reasons  for  the  suggestion  that  magical  conceptions  have 
much  to  do  with  primitive  hospitality.  The  guest  is  in  a  measure  feared  as 
a  mysterious  stranger.  Outside  the  house  he  can  do  no  harm,  but  once  in 
contact  with  the  property  or  the  person  of  his  host  he  may  on  magical  prin- 
ciples be  most  dangerous.  Hence  at  once  a  reason  for  the  distinction  made 
between  his  treatment  inside  and  outside  the  dwelling-place,  and  for  the 
importance  of  the  ceremonial  of  contact  whereby  he  acquires  the  right  to 
hospitable  entertainment.  In  the  same  way  Dr.  Westermarck  refers  the 
divine  protection  of  the  beggar  to  a  humble  origin  in  the  fear  of  the  beggar's 
malediction.  At  the  same  time  such  explanations,  however  true  in  them- 
selves, do  not  settle  the  question  how  far  such  fears  are  the  expression  in  a 
form  congruous  to  primitive  thought  of  an  ethical  feeling  that  something  is 
due  to  the  suffering  and  the  helpless. 

2  See  Waitz,  iii.  166. 

^  Morgan,  Housclife,  p.  61. 


PROPERTY  AND  POVERTY        339 

give  up  his  apparel  to  clothe  the  naked."  ^  To  such  men  the  cold 
cxclusiveness  of  the  civilized  man's  house  is  equally  astonishing 
and  repulsive.  "  You  know  our  practice,"  said  Canassatego,  an 
eighteenth-century  Ononadaga  cliief,  to  a  white  man,  in  a 
striking  allocution  which  Morgan  quotes.  "  If  a  white  man  .  .  . 
enters  one  of  our  cabins  we  all  treat  him  as  I  do  you .  We  dry  him 
if  he  is  wet,  we  warm  liim  if  he  is  cold,  and  give  him  meat  and 
drink  that  he  may  allay  his  hunger  and  thirst ;  and  we  spread 
soft  furs  for  him  to  rest  and  sleep  on.  We  demand  nothing  in 
return.  But  if  I  go  into  a  white  man's  house  at  Albany  and 
ask  for  victuals  and  drink,  they  say,  '  Where  is  your  money  ?  ' 
And  if  I  have  none,  they  say,  '  Get  out,  you  India.n  dog  !  "'-• 
Every  one  knows  of  the  hospitahty  of  the  primitive  Arab, 
and  how  a  sheikh  would  give  away  his  last  camel,  or  slay 
his  favourite  horse,  for  a  guest's  benefit.^  Often  the  stranger 
has  a  mysterious  sanctity.  The  hospitable  host,  like  Abraham, 
may  find  himself  entertaining  angels  unawares.  The  wanderer 
comes,  as  in  early  Greece,  from  Zeus.  "  Do  not  treat  strangers 
slightingly  "  is  an  Ainu  saying,  "  for  you  never  know  whom  you 
are  entertaining."*  A  custom  which  alone  makes  possible  any 
movement  outside  the  boundaries  of  the  tribe  in  the  primitive 
world  may  well  acquire  a  religious  sanction.^ 

Mother's  love  is  the  foundation  of  human  social  life,  and  we 
are  therefore  prepared  to  find  that  affection  and  care  for  chil- 
dren by  one  parent,  if  not  by  both,  is  traceable  to  the  lowest 
levels  of  humanity.  But  the  legal  position  of  the  child  is  not 
the  same  in  primitive  society  as  with  us.  The  "right  to  live  " 
is  a  consequence  of  the  ethics  of  personahty  and  is  not  recog- 
nized by  the  savage,  nor,  if  it  were  recognized,  would  infanticide, 
being  an  action  committed  within  the  family  circle,  necessarily 
attract  the  attention  of  any  authority  outside  the  family  group. 
To  primitive  man  having  a  severe  struggle  for  existence  the 
advent  of  a  new  mouth  to  feed  is  often  a  serious  matter.  Hence 
infanticide  is  a  not  uncommon  practice  in  the  uncivilized  world, 
and  coincides  with  g^iuine  and  even  devoted  attachment  to  the 

1  Morgan,  League  of  the  Iroquois,  p.  328.  Similarly,  Catlin  (vol.  i.  p.  230) 
points  out  that  the  dog,  though  immensely  valued,  is  sacrificed  for  a 
guest,  if  there  is  no  other  way  of  providing  for  him.  Coldan  (in  School- 
craft-Drake,  vol.  i.  p.  221)  remarks  that  the  Iroquois  carried  hospitality 
beyond  the  bounds  of  "  Christian  civility  " — a  delicate  way  of  referring 
to  wife-lending. 

-  Morgan,  I'he  Iroquois,  p.  329. 

See  Palmer,  Koran,  Introduction,  p.  x. 

-  Batchelor,  p.  1  M. 

^  I  have  referred  above  (chap.  vi.  236)  to  the  extreme  case  of  hospitality 
to  enemies  among  the  Bengalese  hill  men. 


340  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

child  if  once  allowed  to  live.^  If  the  father  takes  up  the  child,' 
if  the  clan  decidea  that  it  is  to  be  preserved,  even,'  it  may  be, 
if  it  has  once  taken  food,  its  life  is  secure.  It  will  be  carefully 
tended,  and  often  savage,  like  civilized,  parents  will  go  without 
food  rather  than  let  the  child  go  hungry.  Even  orphans  are 
among  many  people  looked  after,*  The  restriction  of  infanticide 
to  the  weak  and  ill -formed  marks  the  decay  of  the  practice.^ 

Lastly,  in  their  treatment  of  the  sick  and  aged,  uncivilized 
peoples  differ  greatly.  Many  are  said  to  take  great  care  of 
them.  Others  get  a  bad  character  from  travellers.  In  man^ 
instances  the  helpless  are  abandoned,  and  in  some  they  are, 
perhaps  at  their  own  request,  put  to  a  more  merciful  death.' 

^  A  number  of  savage  and  barbarous  peoples  not  practising  infanticide — 
with  special  reference  to  female  infanticide — are  mentioned  in  Wester- 
marck's  Human  Marriage,  p.  311. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  some  earlier  writers  immensely  exaggerated  the 
practice.  In  the  Simpler  Peoples  we  did  not  seek  to  obtain  negative 
instances,  which  are  generally  difficult  to  establish,  but  confined  ourselves 
to  enumerating  the  cases  in  which  the  practice  is  alleged,  and  reducing  them 
to  a  proportion  of  the  whole  number  for  whose  marriage  and  family  life 
we  had  information.  Except  among  the  Hunters  we  found  infanticide 
alleged,  roughly  speaking,  in  one  case  in  eighteen  only.  Among  thirty- 
nine  Pastoral  peoples  there  was  only  one  case,  a  fact  which  should 
be  compared  with  the  similar  record  of  these  peoples  for  cannibalism  and 
human  sacrifice.  Among  the  Lower  Hunters  the  proportion  rises  nearly  to 
one  in  four,  chiefly  owing  to  the  prevalence  of  the  custom  in  Australia. 
It  is,  however,  quite  intelligible  that  the  practice  should  be  commonest 
where  the  struggle  for  life  is  most  severe  (p.  242). 

*  Tims  the  Roman  father  was  said  tollere  or  suscipere  liberos.  So,  too,  the 
German  father,  but  here  the  right  of  putting  the  new-born  child  to  death 
belonged  to  other  persons  as  well,  especially  the  mother  and  grandmother. 
In  the  Frisian  laws  it  is  allowed  to  the  motlier  only  (Schroder,  p.  67). 

*  Among  the  Creeks  infanticide  required  the  consent  of  both  the  clan 
and  the  parents  (Schoolcraft,  vol.  v.  p.  272).  At  Sparta  it  was  a  tribal 
matter.  The  elders  of  the  phyle  examined  the  child  to  decide  if  it  were 
well  formed,  and  if  not  it  was  exposed  on  Mount  Taygetus  (Busolt, 
p.  109). 

*  Among  some  South  American  Indians  the  chief  is  the  guardian  of 
bastards  and  orphans  (Schmidt,  Z.  f.  V.  1898,  p.  289).  Occasional 
notices  of  orphans  suggest  that  the  care  which  they  receive  is  inadequate 
(cf.  Schoolcraft,  vol.  ii.  p.  194,  The  Dakotas;  Waitz,  vol.  iii.  p.  342,  Indians 
of  Oregon). 

*  The  opposite  sentiment  is  expressed  in  a  remarkable  manner  by  a 
Toda  woman.  "  We  never  kill  boys.  As  for  girls,  it  is  different ;  but 
still  we  only  kill  the  sturdy  and  strong ;  it  would  be  a  sin  to  lay  hands 
on  the  weakly  and  deformed  "  (Reclus,  p.  198).  Female  infanticide  has 
greatly  diminished  among  the  Todas  (Rivers,  The  Todaa,  p.  478,  etc.). 

*  The  Andamanese  are  said  to  take  the  greatest  care  of  the  sick  and  help- 
less (Man,  J.  A.  I.,  12,  82),  and  so  are  the  Central  Australians.  Among 
the  North  American  Indians  the  aged  are  said  to  be  generally  respected 
yet  are  often  left  behind  in  necessity  or  put  to  death  (Waitz,  vol.  iii. 
p.  115).  That  this  is  not  quite  so  inhuman  as  appears  to  us  is  made 
clear  by  the  narrative  of  Catlin  in  the  text.  The  Oregon  Indians  ar« 
said  to  take  good  care  of  the  aged,  but  the  sick  are  often  neglected  (Waitz, 


PROPERTY  AND  POVERTY  341 

This  is  not  altogether  due  to  inhumanity.  The  savage,  espe- 
cially the  nomad,  cannot  with  the  best  will  in  the  world  pro- 
vide for  the  aged  as  we  could  if  we  desired  to  do  so.  Catlin 
saw  an  old  man  left  beliind  with  tent  and  fire,  but  no  weapon, 
while  the  tribe  marched  off.  The  old  man  himself  bade  them 
leave  him.  "  You  should  all  go,  where  you  can  get  meat.  My 
days  are  nearly  all  numbered,  and  I  am  a  burden  to  my  children. 
I  cannot  go,  and  I  wish  to  die.  Keep  your  heart  stout  and 
think  not  of  me.  I  am  no  longer  good  for  anything."  With 
these  words  the  ceremony  of  abandonment  was  completed,  and 
it  was  certainly  not  wanting  in  dignity  or  pathos  .^ 

5.  In  the  earlier  civiUzations  th©  solidarity  of  the  family, 
cemented  and  extended  as  it  often  was  by  the  development  of 
ancestor  worship,  secured  good  treatment  of  the  infirm  and  aged 
parent  within  the  kindred.  Towards  the  poor  and  helpless 
generally  the  Oriental  civihzations  teach  the  beauty  and  virtue 
of  beneficence  and  consideration.  This  is  strongly  marked  in 
ancient  Egypt.  The  soul  before  the  Judgment  Seat  winds  up 
its  repudiation  of  sins  by  claiming  positive  merit.  "  I  have 
given  bread  to  the  hungry  man,  and  water  to  the  thirsty  man, 
and  apparel  to  the  naked  man,  and  a  boat  to  the  shipwTecked 
mariner."  ^    The  inscriptions  on  the  tombs  of  kings  and  nobles 

vol.  iii.  pp.  342-346,  and  Schoolcraft,  vol.  v.  p.  664).  Among  the  Wimie- 
bagoes  the  aged  and  infirm  sometimes  suffered  in  seasons  of  scarcity, 
but  they  were  helped  by  friends  and  relations,  and  the  chief  sometimes 
requested  the  U.S.  Government  to  give  such  persons  an  extra  share  of 
the  tribal  annuity  (Schoolcraft,  vol.  iv.  p.  56).  The  Wintuns  of  Cali- 
fornia are  said  to  be  rather  neglectful  than  otherwise  of  the  sick  and 
aged,  and  the  mild  statement  is  illustrated  by  the  ceise  of  infirm  people 
crawling  to  the  river-side  and  being  allowed  to  fall  in  and  drown  (Powers, 
p.  231).  Among  the  Iroquois  a  reform  is  recorded  by  Morgan.  The  aged 
were  formerly  exposed,  but  after  the  formation  of  the  League  and  ol 
permanent  villages  were  well  cared  for  {League  of  the  Iroquois,  p.  171). 
Among  the  Apaches  and  the  Western  Eekimo  death  is  felt  to  be  the 
best  lot  for  the  aged.  The  Eskimo  believes  he  will  be  born  again 
young  and  vigorous  (Reclus,  pp.  103  and  132).  The  practice  of  leaving 
the  sick  and  aged  to  their  fate  or  even  putting  them  to  death  is  widely 
diffused  in  Africa,  but  there  are  exceptions,  e.g.  the  Mandingoes,  and 
possibly  the  Kafirs  (though  this  is  denied  by  Waitz,  vol.  ii.  p.  340).  The 
custom  is  said  to  be  recently  extinct  in  Southern  Nubia  (Post,  Afrik. 
Juris.,  vol.  i.  p.  298). 

^  Catlin,  vol.  i.  p.  216.  Whatever  provision  there  may  be  for  the 
aged  and  infirm  it  is,  as  we  might  suppose,  mainly  a  matter  of  the  goodwill 
of  the  family  or  clan.  It  is  seldom  in  the  savage  world  that  we  read  of 
any  regular  public  provision.  The  Creeks  are  an  exception,  who  are 
described  as  having  public  "  hot  houses  "  provided  in  which  poor  old  men 
and  women  suffering  from  want  of  clothes  may  sleep  (Caleb  Swan,  in 
Schoolcraft,  vol.  v.  p.  265). 

»  Book  of  the  Dead,  chap,  cxxv.,  Budge's  Tr.,  vol.  ii.  p.  372. 


342  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

lay  stress  on  their  goodness  to  the  poor.  They  claim  to  be 
"the  staff  of  support  to  the  aged,  the  foster-father  of  the 
children,  the  counsellor  of  the  unfortunate,  the  refuge  in  which 
those  who  suffer  from  the  cold  in  Thebes  may  warm  themselves, 
the  bread  of  the  afflicted  which  never  failed  in  the  city  of  the 
South."  Ameny,  a  ruler  of  the  no  me  of  the  Gazelle  in  the 
days  of  the  12th  Djmasty,  gives  himself  the  best  of  characters 
as  a  good  master  and  lord — 

"I  have  caused  no  child  of  tender  age  to  mourn;  I  have 
despoiled  no  widow ;  I  have  driven  away  no  tiller  of  the  soil ;  I 
have  taken  no  workmen  away  from  their  foreman  for  the  public 
works;  none  have  been  unfortunate  about  me,  nor  starving  in 
my  time.  When  years  of  scarcity  arose,  as  I  had  cultivated  all 
the  lands  of  the  nome  of  the  Gazelle  to  its  northern  and  southern 
boundaries,  causing  its  inhabita-nts  to  live,  and  creating  pro- 
visions, none  who  were  hungry  were  found  there,  for  I  gave  to 
the  widow  as  well  as  to  the  woman  who  had  a  husband,  and 
I  made  no  distinction  between  high  and  low  in  all  that  I  gave. 
If,  on  the  contrary,  there  were  high  Niles,  the  possessors  of  the 
land  became  rich  in  all  things,  for  I  did  not  raise  the  rate  of 
the  tax  upon  the  fields."  ^ 

To  our  ears  it  may  seem  that  the  gentleman  protests  too 
much,  and  possibly  he  succeeds  in  giving  us  a  more  vivid 
picture  of  what  the  feudal  lords  of  Egypt  did  than  of  what  they 
refrained  from  doing,  but  at  least  he  makes  the  ideal  standard 
of  conduct  for  the  Egyptian  ruler  clear  enough. 

Hospitahty  is  still  recognized  as  a  virtue.  Sinuhit,  who  fled 
to  the  Edomite  desert,  describes  his  life  there — 

"  When  a  traveller  went  and  returned  from  the  interior,  he 
turned  aside  from  his  road  to  visit  me,  for  I  rendered  services 
to  all  the  world.  I  gave  water  to  the  thirsty,  I  set  on  his  journey 
the  traveller  who  had  been  hindered  from  passing  by,  I  chastised 
the  brigand."  ^ 

On  the  other  hand,  in  the  Maxims  of  Ani  of  the  New  King- 
dom we  see  the  civilized  man's  fear  of  the  beggar  grooving  up. 
"Let  not  your  hand  be  despoiled  for  the  man  whom  you 
do  not  know.  He  came  to  you  for  your  ruin."  And  again, 
"Let  your  eye  be  open  in  fear  lest  you  become  a  beggar." ^ 

1  Maspero,  p.  338.  Ernian,  pp.  93,  94.  The  ti'anslation  varies  slightly. 
For  similar  claims  to  have  fed  the  hungry,  etc.,  cf.  Breasted,  Records,  i. 
126,  151,  162,  171,  etc.  It  was  clearly  the  recognized  duty  of  the  nomarch 
(of.  p.  339,  note  4). 

^  Sayce,  Records  of  the  Past,  vol.  ii.  p.  23. 

^  Am6iineau,  trans.  §§  xviii.  and  xxi. 


PROPERTY  AND  POVERTY        343 

Yet  the  Maxims  preach  hospitahty  with  a  touch  of  the  later 
famihar  gnomic  sentiment — the  suggestion  that  moderation  in 
prosperity  is  a  kind  of  surety  against  the  changes  of  fortune — 

"  Eat  not  bread  while  another  standeth  b}^,  and  thou  placest 
not  thy  hand  on  the  bread  for  him.  The  one  is  rich,  and  the 
other  is  poor,  and  bread  remaineth  with  him  who  is  open-handed. 
He  who  was  prosperous  last  year,  even  in  this  may  be  a  vagrant."^ 

We  meet  with  fewer  passages  of  this  tendency  in  Babylonish 
literature.  But  it  appears  from  the  Incantation  Tables  that 
failure  in  duty  to  the  helpless,  and  especially  the  dependent, 
and  churHshness  in  refusing  a  request,  might  bring  a  curse 
upon  a  man  .2 

Respect  for  the  aged  is  a  part  of  the  corner-stone  of  Chinese 
etliics,  the  duty  of  filial  obedience.  But  further,  benevolence 
generally,  and  the  duty  of  the  governor  to  the  governed,  are 
important  parts  of  the  etliical  teaching.  "  Benevolence,"  says 
Mencius,  "  is  the  most  honourable  dignity  conferred  by  Heaven," 
and  the  classical  writings  are  full  of  our  duties  to  our  neigh- 
bours, and  of  the  rulers  to  the  mass  of  the  people.  "  When 
sovereigns  appointed  inspectors,"  says  a  passage  in  the  Shoo- 
King,  "  they  .  .  .  said  to  them,  '  Do  not  give  way  to  violence 
or  oppression ;  and  go  on  to  show  reverence  for  the  weak  and 
find  connections  for  destitute  women.' "^  Corn  was  left,  as 
among  the  Hebrews,  for  the  widows  who  came  to  glean. 

"  Tliere  shall  be  young  grain  unreaped 
And  here  some  sheaves  ungathered, 
Tliere  shall  be  handfuls  left  on  the  ground, 

And  here  ears  untouched 
For  the  benefit  of  the  widow."  * 

Pubhc  assistance  for  the  aged  and  infirm  was  organized  by 
the  Emperor  Tai  Tsung  (a.d.  627-649).  Foundling  hospitals 
were  also  established,  and  under  the  Ming  Dynasty,  Hung  Wu 
again  took  up  the  question  of  the  aged  and  infirm.  Almshouses 
and  granaries  for  the  relief  of  famine  are  also  maintained.^  The 
slow  disintegration  of  the  communal  life  has  gradually  forced 
the  higher  authorities  to  dea,l  with  the  problem  of  the  indigent. 

1  Griffith,  WorhVs  Literature,  5341.  To  somewhat  similar  effect,  though 
in  obscure  language,  Amelineau,  §  xxvi.  :  "  It  is  God  who  is  the  giver — 
therefore  have  pity  and  feed  the  hungry." 

■*  For  the  text,  see  below.  Part  II.  chap.  ii. 

3  ShGO-King  (Tr.  Legge,  Part  V.  xi.  3). 

'  She-King,  vol.  ii.  part  ii.  book  vi.  ode  8.  Legge 's  Prolegomena,  p. 
150. 

*  Laffitte,  Chinese  Civilization,  pp.  53,  58. 


344  MORALS  IN   EVOLUTION 

In  India,  almsgiving  was  recognized  as  an  act  of  merit  from 
the  Vedic  period  onwards. 

"  The  prosperity  of  the  liberal  man  never  decays;  while  the 
illiberal  finds  no  comforter.  He  is  the  bountiful  man  who  gives 
to  the  lean  beggar  who  comes  to  him  craving  for  food.  Success 
attends  that  man  in  the  sacrifice,  and  he  secures  for  himself  a 
friend  in  the  future.  He  who  keeps  his  food  to  himself  has  his 
sin  to  himself."  * 

Similarly,  the  Upanishads  teach  that  "  there  are  three  branches 
of  law.  Sacrifice,  study  and  charity  are  the  first."  ^  And  again  : 
"  The  divine  voice  of  thunder  repeats  the  same.  Da,  Da,  Da, 
that  is,  Be  subdued,  Give,  Be  merciful.  Therefore  let  that  triad 
be  taught.  Subduing,  Giving  and  Mercy."  ' 

In  Manu  the  obligation  of  hospitality  is  peremptory. 

*'  A  guest  who  is  sent  by  the  (setting)  sun  in  the  evening,  must 
not  be  driven  away  by  a  householder ;  whether  he  have  come  at 
(supper-time)  or  at  an  inopportune  moment,  he  must  not  stay 
in  the  house  without  entertainment. 

"  Let  him  not  eat  any  (dainty)  food  which  he  does  not  offer 
to  his  guest."  * 

But  it  is  due  in  its  fulness  to  caste-fellows  alone.  Towards 
members  of  a  lower  caste  it  is  optional.^  To  share  one's  good 
things  is  a  matter  of  positive  duty.  To  eat  first  Avithout  feeding 
infants,  the  sick  and  others,  will  cause  a  man  to  be  devoured  by 
dogs  and  vultures  after  death.®  But  no  great  self-sacrifice  is 
expected. 

"  A  householder  must  give  (as  much  food)  as  he  is  able  (to 
spare)  to  those  who  do  not  cook  for  themselves,  and  to  all  beings 
one  must  distribute  (food)  without  detriment  (to  one's  own 
interest)."  ' 

The  plucking  of  food  by  the  wayside  is  allowed  to  the  higher 
castes.®  Finally,  in  one  passage  we  trace  a  higher  social  con- 
ception. The  Sudra  is  naturally  a  slave,  but  even  as  a  slave  he 
ought  to  have  his  due  maintenance.^ 

^  Muir,  Sanscrit  Texts,  vol.  v.  p.  431. 

2  The  Upanishads,  Tr.  M.  Miiller,  vol.  i.  p.  35. 

»  Mullei',  Upanishads,  Part  II.  p.  190.  *  Manu,  iii.  105,  106. 

^  Apastamba  is  more  modern.  "  If  a  Sudra  comes  as  a  guest  (to  a 
Brahmana),  he  shall  give  him  some  work  to  do.  He  may  feed  him  after  " 
(Sacred  Books,  vol.  ii.  p.  110). 

"  Cf.  Baudh.,  ii.  3,  6,  17.  "  Ho  shall  never  eat  without  having  given 
away  (some  small  portion  of  the  food)." 

'  Manu,  iv.  32.  *  ib.,  viii.  341.  °  ib.,  x.  \2A,  125. 


PROPERTY  AND  POVERTY        346 

Hebrew  legislation  dealt  with  the  problem  of  poverty  both 
\vith  a  view  to  prevention  and  to  cure.  We  know  Mith  what 
wonderful  power  the  prophets  denounced  the  oppressors  of 
the  poor  and  declaimed  woe  upon  those  who  joined  house  to 
house  and  field  to  field.  The  resistance  to  that  tendency  to 
the  depression  of  the  poorer  citizens,  wliich  accompanies  economic 
progress,  was  the  main  burden  of  social  morahty  as  preached 
by  the  prophets,  and  took  practical  shape  in  legislation  in  the 
form  of  the  Umitation  of  debt  slavery ;  release  of  debts,  accord- 
ing to  Deuteronomy  in  the  seventh  year,^  and  according  to  the 
later  code  in  the  fiftieth ;  the  prohibition  of  usury ;  ^  and  the 
insistence  on  equal  justice  between  the  stranger  and  the  father- 
less. Deuteronomy  adds  that  the  debtor  is  to  fetch  his  o^vn 
pledge  from  his  house,  to  have  his  pledged  garment  restored  to 
him  at  nightfall,  and  that  neither  a  millstone  nor  a  mdow's 
raiment  is  to  be  taken.  These  were  measures  designed  to 
prevent  Israehtes  from  falling  out  of  the  class  of  free  men. 
There  uere,  besides,  the  practical  provisions  for  the  reHef  of  the 
poor.  These  were  probably  developed  from  common  festivals 
of  the  clan,  where  every  one  had  a  right  to  claim  a  portion.^ 
For  this  purpose  the  Book  of  the  Covenant  makes  use  of  the 
Sabbatical  year,  in  which  the  land  was  to  rest  that  the  poor 
might  eat.  But  they  would  not  eat  very  much  from  the  fruits 
of  fallow  land,  and  so  Deuteronomy  prescribes  that  a  tithe  of 
every  third  year's  produce  shall  be  shared  with  the  stranger, 
the  fatherless  and  the  widow.  It  also  insists  that  the  gleanings 
of  the  field  and  the  vineyards  be  left  to  them.*  The  duty  of 
almsgiving  was  rigidly  enforced.  "  He  who  gave  less  than  a 
tenth  of  his  means  was  a  man  of  evil  eye."  ^  There  were  collec- 
tions in  the  synagogues  for  the  poor  and  the  strangers,  and  there 
were  elected  almoners.     Lastly,  honour  for  the  aged  and  regard 

^  Deuteronomy  xv.  1,  Verse  8  says  in  rather  futile  fashion  that  this  is 
not  to  deter  the  Hebrew  from  lending  to  his  brother,  but  it  does  not  say 
what  is  to  compel  him.  Note  that  by  verse  3  the  law  does  not  apply  to 
foreigners. 

*  This  appears  already  in  the  Book  of  the  Covenant,  Exod.  xxii.  25, 
and  the  next  verse  insists  that  the  neighbour's  raiment  when  taken  as  a 
pledge  is  to  be  restored  at  sundown.  Usury  is  uniformly  allowed  against 
the  foreigner  (Deut.  xxiii.  20). 

'  Robertson  Smith,  Religion  of  the  Semites,  p.  250. 

*  Deuteronomy  xiv.  28,  and  xxiv.  19-21.  In  the  priestly  code  it  would 
seem,  however,  that  the  tithe  goes  to  the  Levites,  and  it  is  re-enacted  that 
the  "  Sabbath  of  the  land  .  .  .  shall  be  food  for  thee  .  .  .  thy  servant  .  .  . 
and  thy  stranger  "  (Lev.  xxv.  6). 

*  Maimonides,  quoted  by  Loch,  art.  "  Charity  and  Charities,"  Ency. 
Brit.,  ed.  x.,  p.  667.  Loch  adds  that  even  the  poor  had  to  give  alms,  and 
a  refusal  was  punished  with  stripes  by  the  Sanhedrim. 


346  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

for   the    afflicted   are   insisted    upon    as    moral    and    religious 
duties. 

In  the  law  of  Islam  also  almsgiving  is  insisted  upon  as  one  of 
the  five  practical  duties  of  the  creed.  Usury  is  forbidden,  and 
pronounced  by  the  Prophet  as  being  as  accursed  as  almsgiving 
is  blest. 

"  Those  who  devour  usury  shall  not  rise  again,  save  as  he  riseth 
whom  Satan  hath  paralyzed  with  a  touch ;  and  that  is  because 
they  say  '  selling  is  only  like  usury,'  but  God  has  made  selling 
iawful  and  usury  unlawful.  God  shall  blot  out  usury,  but 
shall  make  almsgiving  profitable,  for  God  loves  not  any  sinful 
misbeliever."  ^ 

The  spoils  of  the  enemy  were  to  be  for  the  poor. 

*'  What  God  gave  as  spoils  to  His  Apostle  of  the  people  of  the 
cities  is  God's  and  the  Apostle's,  and  for  kinsfolk,  orphans,  and 
the  poor  and  the  wayfarer,  so  that  it  should  not  be  circulated 
among  the  rich  men  of  you."  ^ 

But  after  Mohammed's  time  a  rate  on  property  of  about 
one-fortieth  of  all  that  had  been  in  the  behever's  possession 
for  a  year,  which  had  originally  been  a  contribution  to  the 
expenses  of  war  against  infidels,  became  converted  into  a  kind 
of  poor  rate.^  A  plan  of  pensions  for  all  Moslems  was  set  on 
foot  by  Caliph  Omar. 

6.  I  have  referred  briefly  to  the  position  of  the  beggar  and 
the  suppHant  in  Homeric  Greece.  In  Hesiod's  time  we  find  the 
duty  of  liberality  still  insisted  upon,  but  the  attitude  to  the 
beggar  is  already  changing.  Hesiod  reprehends  begging  as  a 
disgrace,  and  says  that  once  beggars  may  be  helped,  or  twice, 
and  then  they  will  be  refused.  He  makes  almsgiving  a  matter 
of  reciprocity.  "  Love  him  who  loves  thee,  and  cleave  to  him 
who  cleaveth  to  thee.  To  him  who  would  have  given  give; 
to  him  who  would  not  have  given  give  not."  ^  During  the 
classical  period  some  measure  of  the  primitive  communal 
system  still  lingered.  In  Crete  and  in  Sparta  there  was  direct 
maintenance  for  all  citizens  at  the  public  tables.  At  Athens 
the  phratry  retained  much  of  its  old  vitality.  Down  to  Solon's 
time  the  property  of  the  childless  reverted  to  the  clan,  and  even 
after  him  the  same  thing  happened  to  that  of  intestates.  Out 
of  this  stock  the  clan  provided  for  orphans,  and  the  nearest 
ap;natic  relation  had  either  to  marry  or  dower  the  orphan  girl. 

1  Koran,  i.  (Sacred  Books,  vi.),  p.  44.  ^  Koran,  chap.  lix. 

2  Palmer,  Introduction  to  the  Koran,  p.  73.         ^  Loch,  Ency.  Brit.,  p.  660. 


PROPERTY  AND  POVERTY  347 

But  the  new  state  organization  also  assumed  the  duties  of 
maintaining  needy  citizens,  in  the  first  place,  by  public  granaries 
and  the  frequent  distribution  of  food  to  adult  citizens  on  the 
register ;  secondly,  by  public  relief  to  the  infirm  with  property 
of  not  more  than  three  mince  ;  and  lastly,  by  payment  for  pubhc 
services,  which  became  more  and  more  important  as  the  institu- 
tions of  the  country  passed  into  the  hands  of  large  popular 
bodies.^  Moreover,  an  indirect  method  of  maintaining  the  roll 
of  citizens  and  preventing  them  from  sinking  into  slavery 
and  being  lost  to  the  state  was  found  in  colonization,  bands  of 
Athenian  citizens  being  led  out  to  a  newly  conquered  territory 
and  settled  in  lots  on  the  land.  Solon's  legislation  against 
debt  slavery  had  already  effectually  blocked  that  broad  path 
of  degradation  in  the  ancient  world.  Apart  from  state  aid 
there  was  much  private  charity,  and  mutual  help  societies  were 
frequent.  Hospitahty  still  ranked  as  an  important  virtue.  In 
some  places  there  were  brotherhoods  of  public  charity  A\ith  a 
common  chest,  and  there  were  resting-places  and  probably 
hospital  provision  for  travellers  at  the  temples.'^  The  temples 
also  were  the  centres  of  medical  rehef.  Tlie  sons  of  Asklepios 
dwelt  in  their  neighbourhood,  and  probably  attended  the  poor 
gratuitously,  at  least  at  Athens.  Hippocrates  lays  down  that 
it  should  be  a  doctor's  first  duty  on  entering  a  town  to  attend 
to  the  poor  who  are  sick.^ 

In  Rome,  the  economic  tendency  to  the  centralization  of 
capital  and  the  consequent  reduction  of  the  poorer  citizens  to 
destitution  and  dependence  took  a  very  aggravated  form,  owing 
in  part  to  the  facilities  offered  by  conquest  and  in  part  to  the 
cheapness  and  the  abject  position  of  the  slave.  The  legislation 
of  the  Gracchi,  intended  to  counteract  this  evil,  was  probably 
valuable  so  far  as  the  division  of  the  public  lands  was  concerned, 
but  injurious  in  that  it  started  the  system  of  distributing  corn 
to  Roman  citizens  at  about  half  the  cost  price,  a  system  which 
had  an  immense  and  unhealthy  development.  The  Lex  Octavia 
restricted  the  right  to  citizens  settled  at  Rome,  and  probably 
later  legislation  introduced  a  property  test,  but  the  Lex  Clodia 
made  the  distribution  gratuitous,  and  in  the  time  of  Aurelian 

1  Distribution  of  public  money  was  opposed  by  Aristotle,  who  urged 
that  the  object  of  statesmen  should  be  to  make  the  mass  of  citizens  in- 
dependent, and  advised  that  public  relief  should  take  the  form  of  starting 
them  in  farms  or  in  business  (Aristotle,  Politics,  1320a). 

*  At  Megara  there  were  houses  in  the  town  for  strangers,  maintained  at 
the  public  cost,  and  in  Crete  strangers  had  a  place  at  the  public  meals 
(Loch,  662). 

3  Loch,  662,  663. 


348  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

there  were  important  additions,  consisting  probably  of  oil,  and 
perhaps  of  wine  and  clothes.  The  system  spread  to  Constanti- 
nople, Alexandria  and  Antiooh,  and  with  the  extending  of  civio 
rights  to  the  whole  of  the  Empire  must  have  tended  to  foster 
a  vast  and  idle  city  proletariat  .^ 

In  other  directions  Roman  charity  had  a  more  beneficent 
turn.  Hospitals  with  infirmaries  for  sick  slaves  attached  are 
mentioned  in  the  first  century  a.d.,  while  there  was  a  chief 
physician  in  each  regio  for  the  poor.*  Voluntary  associations 
for  common  purposes  had  a  vigorous  vitality.  There  were 
trade  guilds  with  a  strongly-developed  social  life,^  with  their 
special  rites  and  their  own  god.  They  held  hoHdays  in  common 
in  which  men  and  women  both  took  part,  and  provided  for  the 
burial  of  their  members.  In  fact,  most  of  the  poor  belonged 
to  funeral  benefit  societies.*  The  care  of  destitute  children 
was  undertaken  by  the  Emperors  Nerva  and  Trajan,who  lent 
money  at  low  interest  to  municipalities  for  their  upbringing. 
At  Veleia  three  hundred  children  were  thus  assisted.  But 
the  system,  though  much  extended  by  the  Antonines,  feU  into 
disuse  in  the  troubles  of  the  third  century. 

7.  The  problem  of  poor  relief  was  now  taken  up  by  the  Church. 
This  was  in  its  primitive  form  a  congregation  in  which  the 

1  Loch,  664,  666. 

*  During  the  first  century  after  Christ  there  were  charitable  organiza- 
tions of  many  kinds  in  the  Roman  world.  Money  was  given  or  bequeathed 
to  buy  oil  and  meal,  which  was  either  given  away  or  sold  at  moderate  prices. 

Poor  parents  received  help  in  the  bringing  up  of  their  children,  until 
the  latter  could  reasonably  fend  for  themselves.  There  were  foundations 
for  the  helpless  aged,  and  the  sick  were  cared  for,  not  only  by  their  own 
community,  but  through  private  agencies.  Medicines  were  distributed 
free.  Free  burial-places  were  provided  by  the  community,  or  again  from 
private  sources. 

Rich  burghers  supported  education,  and  in  a.d.  100  the  younger  Pliny 
gave  a  library  and  means  to  support  it  to  Como,  and  provided  a  teacher 
for  the  higher  branches  of  education,  bo  that  would-be  students  there  were 
no  longer  forced  to  go  to  Milan  (Plin.,  Epp.  iv.  13).  On  great  occasions 
it  was  customary  to  make  some  public  gift—buildings,  foundations,  gladia- 
torial games,  etc.  (Friedlander,  Darstellungen  aus  der  Sittengeschichte  Roma., 
iii.  151). 

*  Social  intercourse  appears  the  most  prominent  side  of  the  life  of  the 
guilds.  How  far  they  were  "  friendly  societies  "  in  our  sense  is  not  quite 
so  clear,  but  the  provision  for  burial  was  usual,  and  at  least  in  one  case 
other  benefits  were  assured.  On  these  points,  and  on  the  immense  develop- 
ment of  the  "  colleges,"  see  Dill,  Roman  Society  from  Nero  to  Marcus 
Anrelius,  Book  II.  chap.  iii. 

*  Friedlander,  i.  146-152.  The  collegia  passed  under  state  supervision 
and  gradually  developed  into  something  of  the  nature  of  castes  ;  members 
wlio  fled  were  brought  back  and  children  were  compelled  to  succeed  their 
parents  in  their  turn. 


PROPERTY  AND  POVERTY        349 

poorer  members  were  relieved  out  of  the  offerings  given  at  the 
altar.  As  the  Church  became  divided  into  parishes,  the  parish 
became  the  area  for  relief,  and  in  Rome,  under  Gregory,  the 
deacons  had  the  care  of  the  poor,  the  widows  and  the  orphans 
in  their  districts,  in  each  of  which  there  was  a  hospital.  Besides 
this  regular  relief,  on  the  first  of  every  month  Gregory  made  a 
distribution  in  kind  to  the  poor.  This  was  the  model  of  mediaeval 
distribution,  the  parishes  maintaining  their  poor,  while  the 
bishops  and  abbots  set  aside  in  addition  a  definite  sum  for  their 
reUef .  Endowed  charities  were,  in  fact,  springing  up  rapidly  in 
the  fourth  century,  and  the  Theodosian  code  mentions  institu- 
tions for  the  receipt  of  strangers,  for  the  poor  and  sick,  as  well  as 
orphanages  and  houses  for  children.  The  tithe  became  a  legal 
obligation  under  Charlemagne,  and  out  of  it  the  priests  had  the 
definite  duty  of  supporting  the  poor.  Almsgiving  was  a  work 
of  merit  from  the  first.  "  If  there  were  no  poor  the  greater 
part  of  your  sins  would  not  be  removed ;  they  are  the  healers 
of  your  wounds,"  says  St.  Chrysostom.  And  not  only  was 
almsgiving  virtuous,  but  voluntary  poverty  was  an  ideal.  It 
did  not  escape  the  leaders  of  tlie  Churcli  that  abuses  were 
incidental  to  such  a  principle,  and  St.  Ambrose  recognizes  the 
evils  of  pauperism  and  urges  method  in  giving,  though  his  rule 
is  little  more  than  a  recommendation  of  impartiality.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  dangers  inherent  in  the  conception  were  much 
aggravated  by  its  being  linked  with  the  system  of  indulgences.^ 
The  whole  conception,  however,  was  swept  away  by  Protestant- 
ism, which  accordingly  gave  an  impulse  to  the  movement  for 
substituting  public  for  the  ecclesiastical  relief  of  the  poor. 
Already  from  the  growth  of  the  towns  new  charitable  agencies 
had  arisen.  The  guilds  undertook  to  collect  for  the  support  of 
their  members,  boroughs  established  hospitals  and  almshouses, 
gave  out-relief  to  the  registered  poor  and  supported  orphans.^ 
In  England  the  disappearance  of  serfdom  and  the  new  indepen- 
dence of  the  working  classes  began  to  exercise  the  minds  of  the 
rulers  of  the  country  from  the  middle  of  the  fourteenth  century. 
The  confusion  between  the  vagrant  and  the  independent  work- 

1  According  to  Thomas  Aquinas,  he  who  does  an  act  of  charity  merits 
Bpiritual  good  through  being  in  a  state  of  charity,  and  its  effect  in  this 
respect  is  tested  by  the  recipient  being  moved  to  pray  for  the  benefactor. 
Bt.  Thomas  recognizes  that  the  claims  on  our  beneficence  are  relative, 
depending  on  such  considerations  as  relationship,  but  alms  should  consist 
of  all  that  is  superfluous,  the  donor  retaining  what  is  necessary  to  him 
in  view  of  his  needs,  his  family  and  his  dignitas  ;  but  his  gift  should  only 
meet  the  actual  necessities  of  the  recipient,  and  not  be  such  as  should  lead 
to  excess  or  apathy  (Loch,  675). 

*  Wo  find  this  system  as  early  as  the  ninth  century  (Loch,  p.  677). 


350  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

man  seeking  the  best  market  for  his  labour  dates  back  to  that 
time,  and  inspires  much  of  the  severity  with  which  the  sturdy 
and  vahant  beggar  is  treated  in  the  series  of  laws  from  the 
Edwards  to  Ehzabeth.  For,  blended  AAith  Just  indignation  at 
the  idler  and  impostor  was  the  intelhgible  but  sinister  desire  of 
the  governing  classes  to  keep  the  newly  enfranchised  labourer  in 
a  state  of  economic  subjection.  For  this  purpose  it  was  not 
merely  necessary  to  fix  wages,  but  also,  as  far  as  possible,  to 
prevent  the  workman  from  moving  freely  in  search  of  a  better 
market.^  Hence  the  repressive  side  of  the  later  mediseval 
legislation.  On  the  other  hand,  as  long  as  mediseval  charity 
lasted  much  relief  was  given,  though  with  little  system,  by  the 
monasteries,  and  from  1287  onwards  the  parish  became  the  area 
for  a  more  or  less  compulsory  rate.^  The  rehgious  and  economic 
changes  of  the  sixteenth  century  produced  a  new  situation. 
The  suppression  of  the  monasteries  closed  one  source  of  poor 
relief,  while  the  conversion  of  arable  land  to  pasture  restricted 
the  labour  market.  Mendicants — sturdy  and  vahant  beggars — 
Avere  treated  with  a  severity  which  culminated  in  the  statute  of 
Edward  VI.  offering  them  as  temporary  slaves  to  the  first  comer. 
But  meanwhile  a  more  humane  conception  was  making  way. 
Attempts  were  made  to  classify  the  poor  and  provide  mainten- 
ance for  the  "impotent,  feeble  and  lame  who  are  poor  in  very 
deed,"  '  wliile  the  able-bodied  were  to  be  sent  to  Bridewell  for 
correction.  The  movement  culminated  in  the  Act  of  1601, 
which  definitely  acknowledged  the  duty  of  society  as  an  organ- 
ized body  to  save  its  poorer  members  from  actual  destitution, 
by  appointing  overseers  in  each  parish  with  power  to  levy 
rates  for  the  support  of  the  indigent.  But  in  the  actual  working 
of  this  just  and  beneficent  principle  great  dangers  were  disclosed. 
The  standing  difficulty  of  discriminating  between  those  who 
v.'ould  and  those  who  would  not  work,  and  the  conflicts  between 
humane  sentiment  and  desire  for  economy,  led  by  different 
roads  to  the  degradation  of  large  sections  of  the  working  class. 
The  economical  motive  stimulated  each  locality  to  reduce  the 
number  of  mouths  that  it  might  have  to  feed,  and  so  led  speedily 
to  the  Act  of  Settlement  (1662),  which  enabled  the  overseers 
to  compel  any  immigrant  into  their  parish  to  return  to  his 
original  abode,  unless  he  could  give  security  to  the  new  parish 
that  he  would  not  become  chargeable  to  it.  Thus,  on  the 
one  side,^  the  Poor  Law  threatened  the  working  classes  -with  a 
new  serfdom.     On  the  other,  it  tended  whan  laxly  administered 

'  Seo  Fowle,  Poor  Law,  p.  55.  ■  Loch,  p.  676. 

"  From  tho  Statute  of  1551  (Fowle,  p.  57).  '  See  chap.  vii.  p.  308. 


PROPERTY  AND  POVERTY         351 

to  general  pauperization,  and  issued  towards  the  close  of  the 
eighteenth  and  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century  in  a 
system  whereby  regularly  insufficient  wages  were  regularly  made 
good  at  the  expense  of  the  ratepayers .^ 

The  worst  features  of  the  Act  of  Settlement  were  repealed  in 
1795,  and  the  whole  system  of  the  Poor  Law  revolutionized  in 
1834,  With  the  workings  of  the  now  system  thus  constituted 
and  the  problems  to  which  it  has  given  rise  I  must  not  here 
attempt  to  deal.  But  the  broad  principles  underlying  the  atti- 
tude of  the  modern  state  towards  the  poor  must  be  summarily 
indicated.  The  fundamental  principle  of  1601 — that  it  is  the 
duty  of  the  public  authority  to  see  that  no  one  actually  perishes 
for  want  of  necessaries — seems  to  be  accepted — if  sometimes  in 
grudging  terms — by  modern  civiHzed  governments  in  general .^ 
But  starting  from  this  point  a  considerable  onward  movement 
can  be  traced.  First,  poverty  and  pauperism,  though  connected, 
are  distinct,  and  this  vital  distinction  is  recognized  in  practice, 
In  very  varying  forms,  much  of  modern  legislation  has  been 
aimed  at  the  alleviation  of  poverty  and  the  raising  of  the  mass 
of  the  industrial  classes  into  an  economic  position  in  wdiich  they 
could  fairly  hope  to  provide  the  means  of  a  civilized  existence 
for  themselves,  their  famihes,  and  even  the  helpless  ones  who 
belong  to  them.  The  methods  used  vary  according  to  the  spirit 
of  the  age  or  the  economic  circumstances  of  each  people.  In 
some  countries  great  measures  of  agrarian  reform  accompanying 
the  emancipation  of  serfs  have  estabhshed  a  free  peasantry  upon 
the  soil.  In  our  country,  where  the  divorce  of  the  labourer  from 
the  land  remains,  much  has  been  done  by  reducing  or  abolishing 
the  taxes  on  the  necessaries  of  life,  by  sanitary  legislation,  by 
Factory  Acts,  and  by  the  recognition  of  the  right  of  combination. 
Such  legislation  as  this  belongs  to  the  organic  life  of  the  modern 
state — it  is  among  the  processes  of  its  healthy  growth  tow'ards 
a  fuller,  completer  existence.  To  such  growth  diseases  are  inci- 
dent, and  among  them  pauperism  is  one  of  the  cliief .  In  dealing 
v/ith  this  disease  the  effort  of  state-controlled  and  voluntary 
agencies  alike  is  more  and  more  directed  to  disentangling  causes 
— to  discovering  what  is  due  to  lack  of  employment,  what  to 
physical  incapacity,  what  to  faults  of  character.  It  may  frankly 
be  admitted  that  we  as  yet  have  not  much  to  boast  of  either  in 

^  On  the  growth  of  the  Enghsh  Poor  Law,  see  Loch,  676-680. 

-  See  for  France,  Sweden,  Denmark,  Prussia,  Holland,  Austria,  and  the 
United  States — Fowle,  02?.  cit.,  pp.  6,  7.  There  is  sometimes  an  attempt 
to  distinguish  between  the  duty  of  the  state  and  the  rights  of  the  recipient, 
which  ethically  amounts  to  very  little,  though  it  might  have  legal 
irnportance. 


352  MORALS  IN   EVOLXJTION 

our  diagnosis  of  causes  or  in  our  capacity  to  find  remedies  for 
each  specific  form  of  the  disease.  But  it  is  something  to  have 
recognized  that  to  have  the  poor  always  with  us  is  not  a  blessing, 
and  that  the  duty  of  the  rich  is  not  exhausted  by  the  most 
liberal  giving  of  alms.  Public  and  private  charity  have,  in  fact, 
undergone  a  transmutation  which  reflects  the  general  change 
from  the  mediaeval  to  the  modern  order.  Free  bounty  in  alms 
is  the  virtue  appropriate  to  the  lord  dealing  with  humble  de- 
pendents, just  as  easy-going  communism  was  natural  to  the 
primitive  clan.  A  reciprocal  obligation  binding  the  individual 
to  work  for  his  living  and  the  state  to  see  that  no  one  of  its 
members  fails  to  obtain  the  bare  essentials  of  a  civilized  exist- 
ence is  appropriate  to  a  society  resting  on  the  recognition  of 
personal  rights.  To  develop  these  two  principles  in  their  full 
meaning,  so  to  apply  them  in  practice  as  to  avoid  any  form  of 
compulsion  which  would  interfere  with  the  equally  stringent 
principle  of  personal  freedom,  to  adapt  them  to  varying  circum- 
stances in  such  wise  as  best  to  help  him  who  is  impoverished 
through  no  fault  of  his  own  to  regain  his  place  in  the  ranks  of 
independent  labour,  while  yet  taking  suitable  care  of  those  who 
are  mentally  or  morally  incompetent  to  manage  their  own  lives 
— these  are  problems  which  the  future  may  solve.  The  most 
that  we  can  claim  for  ourselves  is  that  we  are  beginning  to  state 
them  with  precision. 

The  poet  tells  us  that  with  the  advance  of  civilization  the  in- 
dividual withers,  but  the  truer  romance  of  historical  prose  tells 
a  different  story.  In  early  society  the  individual  is  nothing 
apart  from  his  community.  The  sphere  of  private  property  is 
very  small  and  the  power  of  the  individual  to  enter  into  new 
relations  by  contract  and  so  carve  out  a  career  is  even  less. 
Land,  the  principal  source  of  wealth,  is  communally  owned  and 
there  is  little  incentive  to  individual  industry.  On  the  other 
hand,  if  there  is  no  wealth,  there  is  also  no  pauperism.  In- 
equality grows  as  scsiety  advances,  and  in  this  advance,  on  its 
economic  side,  private  ownership  and  free  contract  play  the 
principal  part.  Yet  both  these  factors  are  still  greatly  hampered 
in  the  early  and  middle  civilizations  by  feudal  tenures  and  caste 
restrictions.  So  far  as  these  remain  the  structure  of  society  is 
still  comparatively  immobile.  The  position  of  the  individual  is 
still  determined  more  by  inherited  status  than  by  his  own  deserts. 

At  a  still  higher  stage  these  restrictions  fall  away.  Men  stand 
fully  free  to  enter  into  oc<.upations  of  all  kinds,  to  acquire  wealth 
in  all  forms,  and  to  dispose  of  and  (in  many  cases)  bequeath  it 


PROPERTY  AND  POVERTY  363 

at  their  will.  No  divisions  of  class  or  even  of  nationality  inter- 
fere with  their  movements  or  prevent  them  from  entering  into 
relations  with  other  men  in  which  they  may  find  advantage. 
But  these  general  statements  have  to  be  taken  with  one  limiting 
condition.  The  liberties  that  men  enjoy  are  secured  only  by  the 
social  order  maintained  by  the  state,  and  the  state  in  its  turn 
has  to  demand  that  every  right  must  be  defined  in  terms  of  the 
common  good,  and  neither  private  property  nor  free  contract  can 
escape  this  general  law.  Thus  the  modern  world  rests  in  a  fuller 
sense  than  previous  civilizations  on  the  free  individual,  but  the 
individual  owes  his  freedom  to  state  law,  and  the  obverse  side 
of  the  rights  which  he  enjoys  is  the  social  duty  which  he  owes. 
Society  has  freed  him  from  other  ties,  but  not  from  the  tie 
which  binds  him  to  the  social  life.  If  the  individual  is  one  pole, 
society  as  a  whole  is  the  opposite  pole  of  the  modern  ethical 
system. 

Finally,  customs  admitting  the  acquisition  and  holding  of 
property  have  as  their  reverse  side  the  necessity  for  dealing  with 
those  who  have  and  can  acquire  none.  Here  we  have  a  quite 
parallel  evolution.  In  primitive  society  there  is  an  easy  com- 
munism among  the  kinsfolk,  often — but  by  no  means  always — 
much  consideration  for  children,  the  aged  and  the  helpless,  and 
lavish  hospitality  for  the  stranger  if  the  host  chooses  to  receive 
him.  In  the  more  advanced  societies  the  duties  of  the  govern- 
ing classes  are  strongly  insisted  on  by  rehgion  and  social  ethics. 
Those  whom  the  decay  of  primitive  communal  institutions  has 
left  helpless  and  who  have  fallen  outside  the  regular  lines  of 
the  social  structure  are  recommended  to  the  charity  of  their 
superiors.  The  lords  of  the  land  must  be  merciful  and  forbearing 
to  their  dependants.  The  rich  are  taught  to  give  freely  out  of 
their  abundance  to  the  poor.  At  a  higher  stage,  again,  the 
method  of  arbitrary  doles  to  a  dependent  class  gives  way  to 
the  conception  of  a  reciprocal  obligation  between  the  state  and 
its  citizens,  and  contented  acquiescence  in  perpetual  poor  relief 
to  the  systematic  attempt  to  get  at  the  roots  at  once  of  poverty 
and  pauperism  by  organic  reform  in  the  ecoiv««Mc  structure  of 
society. 


A  A 


SUMMARY 

We  have  now  considered  in  outline,  first,  the  main  principles 
underlying  different  forms  of  social  organization ;  secondly,  the 
manner  in  which  the  behaviour  of  individuals  is  regulated, 
their  duties  enforced  and  their  rights  maintained ;  and  thirdly, 
a  number  of  the  rules  determining  in  the  main  relations  of  life 
what  those  rights  and  duties  are.  We  saw  that  primitive  society 
rested  on  ties  spontaneously  formed  by  blood-kinship,  by  inter- 
marriage and  perhaps  by  mere  neighbourhood ;  that  the  social 
structure  is  extended  and  in  some  respects  also  consolidated  by 
the  rise  of  military  power  and  the  separation  of  rulers  and  ruled ; 
we  saw  that  the  principle  of  force,  underlying  government  at 
this  stage,  is  transmuted  and  partially  moraKzed  by  ethical  and 
reUgious  influence  into  a  principle  of  authority,  exacting  obedi- 
ence of  its  subjects  as  a  right,  but  owing  them  consideration  and 
paternal  government  as  a  duty.  We  saw,  fina,lly,  that  in  the 
higher  civilizations  a  new  principle  makes  headway,  whereby 
the  fabric  of  society  comes  to  rest  rather  upon  the  goodwill  of 
the  citizens  and  the  social  nature  of  man,  while  the  claims  of 
government  are  based  not  on  self -constituted  authority  backed 
ultimately  by  the  sword,  but  on  the  necessity  of  an  ordered  rule 
in  the  interests  not  only  of  social  co-operation,  but  of  individual 
freedom. 

In  the  maintenance  of  rights  and  redress  of  wrongs,  the  move- 
ment, broadly  viewed,  is  parallel.  In  the  beginning,  self-redress 
by  the  individual,  by  his  kindred,  or  some  other  small  group 
is  the  predominating  fact.  Hence  we  ascend  by  many  grada- 
tions to  the  impartial  Justice  of  a  pubhc  tribunal,  investigating 
each  case  by  rational  process,  distinguishing  crimes  from  civil 
wrongs  and  limiting  the  responsibility  for  a  wrong  to  the  indi- 
vidual perpetrator.  Growing  up,  as  a  rule,  under  the  shadow 
of  the  principle  of  authority  and  acting  in  the  interests  of  external 
order  rather  than  of  personal  rights,  the  law  is  administered 
often  with  insufficient  safeguards  for  the  innocent  and  with  cruel 
severity  to  the  criminal,  and  the  next  step  is  to  remedy  these  de- 
fects by  changes  aimed  at  reforming  the  criminal  and  cutting  off 
the  sources  of  crime.  At  each  step  there  is  an  advance  in  the 
maintenance  of  order,  and  on  reflection  we  recognize  that  the 

354 


SUMMARY  355 

better  maintenance  of  order  means  greater  security  for  individuals 
in  the  enjoyment  of  their  rights.  Again,  the  elaboration  of  the 
legal  view  of  responsibihty  isolates  the  individual  from  the 
groups  which  in  primitive  society  stand  and  fall  together.  But 
it  isolates  from  these  only  to  bring  liim  into  close  dependence 
on  a  Avider  society — the  state  as  a  whole,  to  M'hich  he  finds  himself 
bound  by  mutual  obligations  of  duties  and  rights. 

In  the  position  of  women  and  the  structure  of  the  family  we 
find  a  development  which,  if  not  parallel,  is  yet  analogous.  We 
have  seen  the  natural  family  beginning  with  a  relatively  loose 
organization,  and  passing  into  a  state  in  which  close-knit  rela- 
tions were  obtained  at  the  expense  of  the  wife,  while  the  aim 
of  the  higher  civilizations  appears  to  be  to  reconcile  the  intimacy 
of  the  union  with  equal  freedom  for  both  parties.  The  move- 
ment is,  on  the  one  hand,  towards  closer  structure,  on  the  other 
to  personal  freedom,  and  the  problem  is,  again,  to  reconcile  the 
claims  of  personahty  and  the  duties  of  a  common  life,  though 
this  common  life  is  here  that  of  two  individuals  rather  than  that 
of  all  society.  On  the  other  hand,  in  the  position  of  women, 
economically  and  socially,  apart  from  the  question  of  marriage, 
it  is  the  idea  of  personality  that  is  mainly  prominent.  For  in 
the  early  stages  there  is  little  respect  for  women,  and,  so  far  as 
labour  is  divided,  it  is  more  often  than  not  to  their  disadvantage. 
Then  in  spite  of  the  dependence  of  the  wife  there  arises  as  a  partial 
compensation  the  view  that  woman  has  a  sphere  of  her  own, 
in  some  ways  higher  than  that  of  her  lord.  But  when  this  view, 
wliich  carries  in  it  the  seeds  of  a  deeper  respect  for  women  than 
the  older  world  conceived,  is  pushed  to  its  conclusion,  it  is  seen 
that,  to  realize  what  is  in  them,  women,  too,  must  have  the  open 
field  which  men  demand,  and  be  free,  if  it  be  only  to  work  out 
and  establish  their  diversity. 

From  sex  we  passed  to  other  divisions  of  human  beings  which 
affect  the  conception  of  moral  obhgation.  In  the  primitive 
world  every  man  is  a  member  of  a  group  to  which  his  obhgations 
strictly  so-called  are  limited,  members  of  other  groups  being 
indifferent  or  hostile.  From  this  "  group-morahty  "  arises,  first, 
the  problem  of  intertribal,  or,  as  they  afterwards  become,  inter- 
national relations.  In  the  early  stages  these  relations  are  fre- 
quently hostile,  and  hostihty  is  directed  towards  the  individuals 
of  the  opposing  community,  and  not  merely  against  the  com- 
munity as  a  corporate  whole.  A  step  onward  is  taken  when  the 
personal  character  disappears  from  warfare  and  the  result  of 
victory,  even  if  pushed  to  the  point  of  annexation,  is  not  to 
cancel  the  rights  of  the  conquered  or  to  punish  them  for  attach- 


35G  MORALS   IN  EVOLUTION 

ment  to  their  own  side.  Lastly,  in  this  fuller  recognition  of  a 
common  humanity — for  that  is  what  it  amounts  to — we  find  the 
beginning  of  a  more  far-reaching  conception  of  a  law,  and  there- 
fore ultimate  of  a  society  of  nations  to  which  each  independent 
state  oAves  allegiance. 

Considered  internally,  the  small  primitive  group  was  found 
to  be — apart  from  the  distinction  of  sex — generally  speaking,  a 
society  of  equals.  Differences  of  class  or  caste,  and  the  distinc- 
tion of  free  man  and  serf  or  slave,  arose  in  the  earlier  phases 
of  social  growth.  On  this  side  personal  rights  are  apt  to  suffer 
deterioration  in  the  earlier  phases  of  social  advance.  The 
growth  of  a  large  order  and  a  firm  authority  is  hostile  at  the 
outset  to  the  maintenance  of  individual  freedom  and  social 
equality.  Ethical  and  rehgious  progress  tends  to  redress  the 
balance,  and  the  claims  of  personahty  reassert  themselves 
piecemeal  in  the  higher  civihzations.  But  this  wider  recogni- 
tion of  personal  rights  impHes  that  the  barriers  which  divide 
classes  and  sections  of  the  community  are  overcome,  and  a  true 
social  unity  achieved. 

Turning  from  the  rights  of  person  to  those  of  property  and 
contract,  we  have  seen  the  simple  quasi -communism  of  primitive 
peoples  give  way  to  a  system  of  free  contract  and  individual 
ownership,  from  which  the  hampering  restrictions  of  caste  and 
feudal  status  gradually  fall  away.  Once  again  individual  energy 
and  initiative  are  set  free  from  all  restrictions,  but  once  again 
individual  freedom  was  seen  to  raise  questions  of  social  control. 
Finally,  in  the  treatment  of  the  poor  we  have  traced  an  analogous 
movement  from  the  customs  of  hospitahty  and  free  sharing 
between  neighbours  through  the  paternal  benevolence  of  a 
superior  caste  to  the  recognition  of  a  mutual  obhgation  as 
between  the  individual  and  the  state. 

Thus,  amid  all  the  variety  of  social  institutions  and  the  ebb 
and  flow  of  historical  change,  it  is  possible  in  the  end  to  detect 
a  double  movement  marking  the  transition  from  the  lower  to 
the  higher  levels  of  civilized  law  and  custom.  On  the  one  hand, 
the  social  order  is  strengthened  and  extended.  The  blood  feud 
yields  to  the  reign  of  law,  personal  chieftainship  to  a  regular 
government  and  an  organized  police.  At  the  same  time  the 
social  organization  grows  in  extent.  Instead  of  small  primitive 
groups  we  have  nation-states  or  continental  empires,  great  areas 
enjoying  internal  peace  and  owning  a  common  law.  On  this 
side  the  individual  human  being  becomes  more  and  more  subject 
to  social  constraint,  and,  as  we  have  frequently  seen,  the  changes 
making  for  the  tightening  of  the  social  fabric  may  diminish  the 


SUMMARY  357 

rights  which  the  individual  or  large  classes  of  individuals  can 
claim,  so  that  fewer  rights  may  be  enjoyed,  though,  with  the 
improvement  of  public  order,  those  which  remain  are  more 
secure.  In  this  relation  liberty  and  order  become  opposed. 
But  the  opposition  is  not  essential.  From  the  first  the  indi- 
vidual relies  on  social  forces  to  maintain  him  in  his  rights,  and 
in  the  higher  form  of  social  organization  we  have  seen  order 
and  liberty  dra^^ing  together  again,  the  underlying  truth  that 
unites  them  being  simply  that  the  best  ordered  community 
is  that  which  gives  most  scope  to  its  component  members  to 
make  the  best  of  themselves,  while  the  "  best  "  in  human  nature 
is  that  wliich  contributes  to  the  harmony  and  onward  movement 
of  society.  Thus  the  modern  state  comes  to  rest  more  and 
more  on  the  rights  and  duties,  the  obHgations  and  responsi- 
bOities  that  we  include  under  the  ethical  and  legal  conception 
of  personaUty.  The  responsible  human  being,  man  or  woman, 
is  the  centre  of  modern  ethics  as  of  modern  law,  free  so  far  as 
law  and  custom  are  concerned  to  make  liis  o"v\ti  life,  bound 
by  no  restrictions  of  status  nor  even  of  nationality  or  race, 
answerable  for  his  acts  and  for  those  of  no  other,  at  liberty 
to  make  the  best  or  the  worst  of  himself,  to  accept  or  decline 
relations  with  others.  On  the  other  hand,  as  this  free  individual 
breaks  the  shell  of  the  older  groupings,  he  comes  into  direct 
relations  ^^'ith  the  state  as  a  whole  wliich  succeeds  to  many  of 
the  rights  and  duties  of  the  older  groups.  The  social  nature  of 
man  is  not  diminished  either  on  the  side  of  its  needs  or  its  duties 
by  the  fuller  recognition  of  personal  rights.  The  difference  is 
that,  so  far  as  rights  and  duties  are  conceived  as  attaching  to 
human  beings  as  such,  they  become  universalized,  and  are  there- 
fore the  care  of  society  as  a  whole  rather  of  a,nj  partial  group 
organization.  The  typical  instance  of  this  change  is  the  rise  of 
public  courts  enforcing  a  law  which  is  equally  binding  on  all 
members  of  society.  But,  lastly,  the  universahsm  which  the 
idea  of  personaHty  holds  within  it  cannot  be  satisfied  vnih  the 
limits  of  the  nation-state.  In  proportion  as  obliga,tions  are 
determined  by  human  nature  as  such  they  overstep  national 
and  racial  as  well  as  family  and  class  hmitations,  and  apply  to 
humanity  as  a  whole.  Hence,  as  has  been  seen  in  analyzing 
the  idea  of  internationalism,  the  double  meaning  of  "  humanity  " 
as  an  expression  for  a  certain  quahty  that  is  in  each  man,  and 
as  an  expression  for  the  whole  race  of  men,  is  not  a  mere 
ambiguit5^  The  two  meanings  are  intimately  related,  for 
"humanity  "  as  a  whole  is  the  society  to  which,  by  virtue  of 
the    "  humanity  "   within  each  of  us,   we  really  belong,   and 


358  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

these  two  meanings  are  the  poles  between  which  modern  etliical 
conceptions  move.  Thus,  if  we  are  to  sum  up  the  whole  process 
sketched  in  this  Part  in  a  phrase,  we  may  say  that  it  is  in 
this  double  sense  to  reahze  humanity. 

The  controversies  wliich  have  filled  modern  history  attach 
themselves  in  their  ethical  aspect  sometimes  to  ore  sidfi,  some- 
times to  the  other  of  this  principle.  Of  many  af  th|:'se  little 
has  been  said  in  this  Part,  because  in  outline  the  facts  are 
well  knov/n  and  a  detailed  discussion  would  be  impossible  within 
the  limits  of  a  general  sketch.  It  may,  however,  be  pointed  out 
that  the  ethical  questions  which  have  agitated  the  modern  world 
from,  say,  the  period  of  the  Reformation  to  our  own  day  have 
turned  either  on  the  vindication  of  personal  right  or  on  the 
extended  conception  of  human  brotherhood.  On  the  one  hand, 
ethical  progress  has  taken  the  form  of  a  protest  against  the 
principle  of  authority  which  at  the  outset  of  the  period  every- 
where dominated  the  world,  and,  so  far,  has  tended  to  curtail 
the  sphere  of  government  in  favour  of  individual  liberty.  This 
is  the  history,  for  example,  of  the  very  gradual  process  whereby 
first  liberty  of  conscience  and  finally  religious  equality  has  been 
established  as  a  corner-stone  of  the  modern  state.  This  change 
is  sometimes  represented  as  merely  a  consequence  of  religious 
scepticism,  the  implication  being  that  if  the  world  held  itself  as 
certain  of  fundamental  truths  as  it  did  in  the  twelfth  century  it 
Avould  not  hesitate  to  impose  them  on  all  its  members  by  force 
as  it  did  then  on  the  rare  occasions  which  arose.  But  there  is 
a  deeper  principle  involved,  illustrating  the  many-sided  meaning 
of  the  idea  of  Personality.  Far  from  implying  an  indifference 
to  religion,  the  principle  of  religious  equality  is  a  recognition  of 
the  profound  importance  of  intellectual  sincerity,  particularly  in 
relation  to  the  deepest  problems  of  life.  From  the  moment  that 
honesty  is  recognized  as  a  duty  it  becomes  increasingly  repugnant 
to  penalize  the  beliefs  to  which  it  may  lead.  The  heavier  the 
penalties  the  more  exclusively  they  fall  on  the  stoutest  and  best 
natures — that  is,  precisely  on  those  best  qualified  under  happier 
circumstances  to  serve  society ;  a.nd  the  only  logical  alternative 
is  to  admit  the  necessity  for  divergencies  in  an  imperfect  world. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  this  principle  is  free  from  logical 
defects  or  practical  difficulties.  It  is  easy  to  show  that  there  are 
or  may  be  opinions  which  in  some  relations  must  disqualify  the 
holder.  For  example,  a  sincere  conviction  which  would  prevent 
a  man  from  conscientiously  discharging  the  duties  of  a  particular 
office  must  disqualify  him  from  holding  the  office.  But  the 
principle  of  freedom  in  opinion  v.ould  merely  require  that  his 


SUMIVIARY  359 

unorthodox  or  unpopular  views  should  not  disquahfy  him  for 
other  offices  with  wliich  they  are  not  concerned.  In  other  words, 
freedom  is  limited  by  responsibihty,  A  man  undertakes  to  fulfil 
a  certain  social  function,  to  administer,  to  teach,  or  to  preach, 
and  it  is  expected  that  he  will  fulfil  and  not  exceed  that  function, 
and  as  long  as  he  does  so  his  thoughts  are  his  own.  There  is 
thus  a  certain  logic  below  the  apparent  compromises  of  pubhc 
life  wliich,  by  enabhng  men  of  most  diverse  views  to  co-operate 
without  injury  to  their  own  self-respect,  secures  the  best  brains 
and  the  highest  characters  for  the  pubhc  service. 

The  modern  state  undoubtedly  uses  constraint,  as  every 
organized  society  must  do,  but  the  grounds  on  which  constraint 
is  justified  in  the  modern  world  are  distinctive  and  significant. 
For  constraint  may  be  justified,  and  in  the  older  conception  was 
justified,  on  the  ground  that  if  a  man  will  not  do  what  he  ought 
he  must  be  made  to  do  it,  and  it  may  be  apphed  to  speech  and 
wTiting  on  the  ground  that  if  it  is  wrong  to  do  a  thing  it  is  equally 
wrong  to  recommend  it.  But  it  is  precisely  in  these  tAvo  rela- 
tions that  compulsion  most  offends  the  modern  idea  of  liberty. 
To  force  a  person  to  act  rightly  for  liis  own  sake  imphes  an 
ethical  confusion,  for  it  is  only  in  so  far  as  he  acts  freely  that 
his  actions  have  ethical  value.  Conversely,  to  suppress  free 
speech  is  to  bring  force  into  the  true  spiritual  world — the  world 
of  ideas,  where  it  is  most  urgent  both  from  the  personal  and 
ultimately  from  the  pubhc  point  of  view  that  there  should  be 
freedom.  On  the  other  hand,  when  the  freedom  of  one  man  is 
used  to  molestation  of  another  or  the  hindrance  of  what  are 
deemed  Ms  legitimate  activities,  constraint  is  required.  And  if 
individual  freedom  may  not  be  used  to  the  prejudice  of  another 
individual,  neither  can  it  claim  the  right  to  thwart  the  will  of 
society  as  a  whole.  Hence  an  important  distinction  which  will 
be  found  to  underlie  much  of  modern  legislation.  As  long  as 
the  general  will  can  be  carried  out  effectively  without  com- 
pelling the  reluctant  minority  to  follow  suit,  the  tendency  is 
to  avoid  compulsion.  On  the  other  hand,  where  certain  con- 
ditions are  beheved  to  be  essential  to  the  common  good,  and 
the  recusance  of  a  minority,  perhaps  of  a  few  individuals,  would 
render  them  unattainable,  compulsion  is  deemed  legitimate. 
In  such  cases  it  is  felt  that  the  general  will,  dealing  with  general 
interests,  has  rights  quite  comparable  in  kind  to  those  of  the 
individual  will  in  relation  to  its  indi\idual  interests,  while  to 
enforce  compulsion  is,  after  all,  only  in  accord  w  ith  the  universally 
admitted  limit  to  liberty  that  it  does  not  convey  the  right  to 
injure  others.    Further,  compulsion  is  limited  to  actions,  since 


360  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

words  alone  cannot  impede  a  resolute  majority  from  doing  what 
they  wish  to  do,  unless,  indeed,  their  convictions  are  a  little 
shaky,  and  in  that  case  it  may,  perhaps,  be  all  the  better  for 
them  to  hear  the  other  side.  Again,  in  leaving  expression  free, 
the  law  leaves  to  each  man  what  is  peculiarly  his,  the  right 
to  think  for  himself  and  honestly  express  liis  convictions  whether 
he  is  allowed  to  act  by  them  or  not.  In  all  these  ways  the  idea 
of  personality  seems  to  have  profoundly  influenced  the  theory 
and  practice  of  legislation,  tending  not  always  to  the  curtail- 
ment of  social  activity — for,  as  we  shall  see  later,  it  has  a  counter 
tendency  in  the  enlargement  wliicli  it  gives  to  the  conception 
of  the  common  good — but  certainly  to  the  material  modification 
of  the  character  and  aims  of  law. 

Freedom  of  discussion  practically  imphes  the  influence  of 
discussion  upon  government,  and  the  doctrine  of  popular  sove- 
reignty \vith  universal  suffrage  drew  its  strength  first  in  the 
modern  world  from  the  conception  of  the  right  of  each  individual 
to  have  a  voice  in  determining  the  laws  under  which  he  has  to 
live.  The  democratic  movement  was  directed  at  the  outset 
against  arbitrary  power.  Its  first  demand  was  for  personal  free- 
dom, i.  e.  immunity  from  arbitrary  treatment  and  security  in 
the  possession  of  legal  rights.  The  political  rights  which  came 
next  appeared  naturally  as  an  extension  of  this  freedom  and  as 
another  check  of  governmental  authority.  But  as  soon  as  they 
were  adequately  secured  and  the  ultimate  sovereignty  of  the 
people  was  realized,  the  notion  of  a  check  on  government  became 
inadequate.  The  people  as  a  whole  could  not  be  engaged  merely 
in  checking  itself.  In  point  of  fact,  whenever  it  was  a  question 
of  extenchng  the  franchise  it  was  another  side  of  the  principle  of 
personality,  the  idea  of  equal  rights,  that  came  forward.  But 
this  idea,  while  founded  on  personality,  is  meaningless  apart 
from  the  conception  of  sometliing  which  all  share  alike,  and 
equality  in  political  rights,  therefore,  implies  a  community  in 
which  members  have  an  equal  right  to  take  part  in  the  functions 
of  government — that  is  to  say,  merely  a  more  perfect  or  more 
complete  community  than  one  in  which  certain  members  are 
wholly  or  in  part  excluded  from  the  common  life.  Political 
democracy,  therefore,  seems  to  range  the  whole  distance  be- 
tween the  two  poles  of  the  humanitarian  idea,  resting  on  the 
pinciple  of  personahty  on  the  one  hand  and  of  the  all-embracing 
community  on  the  other. 

The  family  and  the  state  are  not  the  only  communities  which 
men  form.  On  the  contrarj^,  a  leading  characteristic  of  the 
modern  world  is  the  ease  with  which  people  combine  for  pur- 


SUMllARl 

poses  of  all  kinds,  from  that  of  hearing  each  other's^  views  on 
Browning  to  that  oi  regulating  wages  or  promoting  the  passage 
of  a  Bill  in  Parhament.  The  right  of  association  is  one  which 
often  raises  grave  pohtical  and  social  problems,  and,  strangely 
enough,  ic  can  be  brought  into  contact  with  both  poles  of  our 
"underlying  principle,"  and  in  either  case  it  may  receive  sup- 
port or  opposition  according  to  the  reading  of  the  facts.  Take 
the  case  of  trade  unions.  These  were,  as  a  matter  of  history, 
legalized  in  England  under  the  influence  of  individuahstic  ideas, 
the  ground  taken  being  the  right  inherent  in  individuals  to 
associate  together  freely  for  the  promoting  of  their  several 
interests.  Yet  the  strength  of  a  trade  union  lies  entirely  in 
the  Collective  Bargain,  and  its  moral  force  is  derived  wholly 
from  the  conception  of  the  workers  in  a  given  trade — ultimately, 
perhaps,  all  the  manual  workers  of  the  country — as  forming  a 
community  with  certain  objects  in  common.  So  far  the  trade 
union  finds  support  both  in  individualism  and  collectivism.  Yet 
from  both  ideas  it  is  possible  to  derive  arguments  against  the 
right  of  combination.  On  individuahst  grounds  it  may  be  con- 
demned as  impairing  the  rights  of  the  non-unionist,  on  collec- 
tivist  grounds  as  forming  a  state  within  a  state,  and  assuming 
functions  wliich  only  the  government,  representing  employers  as 
weD  as  employed,  brain  workers  as  well  as  manual  workers,  can 
fairly  carry  out.  Hence,  in  point  of  fact,  trade  unionism  has 
always  been  opposed  by  the  more  extreme  among  Individuahsts 
and  Socialiste,  and  has  found  support  among  the  more  moderate 
of  each  party.  The  movements  of  opinion  and  of  Enghsli  legis- 
lation on  the  subject  from  1800  to  the  present  day  reflect  with 
tolerable  accuracy  the  fluctuation  of  thought  between  these 
poles,  according  as  now  one,  now  another,  aspect  of  the  problem 
took  the  leading  place  in  the  public  mind,  the  tendency  being, 
upon  the  whole,  to  recognize  the  necessity  of  voluntary  com- 
bination as  a  remedy  for  the  economic  weakness  of  the  mass  of 
manual  workers  and  to  bring  it  by  the  definition  of  its  rights 
and  responsibihties  more  closely  into  connection  with  the  state 
system. 

What  has  been  said  of  trade  unions  applies  mutatis  mutandis 
to  voluntary  association  in  general.  The  state  organization  is 
far  from  exhausting  the  necessities  of  common  action.  It  can 
use  its  power  of  compulsory  taxation  to  carry  out  certain  objects 
of  common  interest.  But  precisely  because  it  uses  compulsion, 
it  has  to  give  fair  consideration  to  all  classes  and  all  sections  and 
cannot  \nsely  proceed  further  than  the  general  opinion  of  the 
community  warrants.     Voluntary  associations,  on  the  other  hand, 


362  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

which  exercise  no  compulsion  on  any  one  except  on  their  own 
members,  who  freely  join  and  are  free  to  leave  them,  may  rightly 
pursue  a  thousand  and  one  laudable  objects  for  which  a  com- 
bined effort  is  necessary,  but  which,  perhaps,  appeal  only  to 
a  few.  Thus  the  fuller  development  of  the  principle  of  com- 
munity or  association  does  not  necessarily  imply  a  continual 
expansion  in  the  sphere  of  state  activity.  On  the  contrary,  the 
activity  of  voluntary  combination  has  developed  and  is  developing 
^vith  at  least  equal  rapidity. 

Under  the  name  of  voluntary  association  we  think  naturally 
of  combinations  dehberately  formed  for  some  definite  purpose. 
But  there  is  also  a  form  of  common  life  into  which  men  fall, 
if  not  hindered,  by  a  kind  of  instinct,  a  life  based  on  old  tradi- 
tions, and  a  certain  community  of  character,  language,  custom, 
and  generally  religion,  all  that  goes  to  make  up  the  impalpable 
but  very  real  bonds  of  nationality.  Struggles  for  national  free- 
dom have  made  a  large  part  of  the  modern  movement,  and 
have  generally  been  associated  with  ideas  of  personal  liberty 
and  of  popular  sovereignty.  Yet  the  connection  of  thought  is 
not  always  easy  to  make  out.  Where  a  race  is  definitely  held  in 
subjection  by  an  autocratic  government  which  concedes  to  it 
neither  political  nor  equal  civil  rights,  the  case  is  indeed  clear 
enough.  So  far  it  does  not  differ  from  that  of  any  disfran- 
chised class.  But  further,  though  fully  enfranchised,  a  nation- 
ality may  be  incorporated  against  its  -will  with  a  larger  nation 
in  one  political  community,  and  its  separatist  aspirations  may 
then  be  regarded  as  having  no  special  sanction  in  the  principle 
of  Liberty  and  as  being  opposed  to  the  widening  of  human 
brotherhood  in  that  they  tend  to  split  up  society  and  perpetuate 
divisions.  As  to  the  first  point,  the  proof  of  the  argument  is 
in  practical  experience.  If  it  turns  out  possible  to  maintain  the 
undesired  union  Avithout  special  restrictions  on  the  political  and 
personal  rights  of  the  recalcitrant  people,  well  and  good.  But 
the  stronger  the  national  feehng,  the  less  likely  is  this  to  be  the 
case  and  the  further  are  governments  driven  along  the  road  of 
coercion  and  into  the  forbidden  ground  of  the  modern  spirit, 
where  men  are  made  to  suffer  most  in  proportion  to  their  nobihty 
and  steadfastness  of  character.  The  heroes  of  nationalism  have, 
wherever  their  cause  has  flourished,  connected  it  \nth  that  of 
personal  right,  and  put  their  opponents  into  the  odious  position 
of  punishing  men  for  qualities  M'hich  in  a  cool  hour  they  must 
themselves  admire.  From  the  social  point  of  view,  again,  if 
fewer  differences  existed  the  problems  of  social  organization 
would  be  much  simpler,  but  the  social  life  vrould  also  be  poorer. 


SUMMARY  363 

At  this  point  divergences  in  the  conception  of  a  community 
come  to  a  head.  If  the  best  com^iinity  is  that  in  which  the 
order  deemed  most  suitable  by  the  wisest  heads  is  imposed  on 
all  members  without  regard  to  their  wishes,  then  differences 
of  nationality  can  expect  little  consideration.  But  if  the  best- 
ordered  society  is  that  which  makes  most  room  for  the  self- 
development  of  many  different  tj^pes,  the  case  is  altered,  and 
just  as  there  is  free  play  for  the  individual  so  also  is  there  room — 
though  to  make  it  may  involve  great  changes  in  the  govern- 
mental machinery — for  those  groupings  of  individuals  which 
spontaneously  form  and  stubbornly  maintain  themselves  against 
legal  pressure.  Thus,  from  several  points  of  view  the  re-grouping 
of  peoples  according  to  national  divisions,  which  has  made  up 
so  much  of  modern  history,  falls  into  its  place  as  part  of  the 
wider  movement  which  has  replaced  the  arbitrary  government 
of  authority  by  the  pohtical  state  resting  on  the  common  good 
and  general  assent  of  the  great  bulk  of  its  citizens. 

Probably  in  all  the  movements  here  mentioned  the  side  which 
has  been  most  prominent  in  history  has  been  the  vindication  of 
individual  or  group  rights  as  against  governmental  authority. 
But  it  would  be  a  mistake  on  that  account  to  identify  them  with 
any  general  tendency  towards  individualism  as  against  the  claims 
of  the  common  life.  On  the  contrary,  at  every  step  the  fuller 
recognition  of  rights  implies  a  deepening  sense  of  common 
responsibility,  since,  as  has  been  repeatedly  asserted,  the  recog- 
nition of  a  right  implies  its  maintenance  by  society.  From  the 
assumption  of  the  duty  of  protecting  life  and  limb  onwards  the 
development  of  the  modern  state  has  witnessed  an  extension  of 
the  sense  of  collective  responsibihty — a  responsibility  which  may 
almost  indifferently  be  stated  in  terms  of  the  rights  of  individuals 
or  the  duties  of  society.  On  whichever  of  the  two  principles, 
in  practice  the  modern  state  guarantees  the  bare  necessaries  of 
life  to  all  its  members,  and  adds  thereto  in  varying  degree  the 
conditions  of  something  more  than  a  bare  life.  In  a  long  series 
of  industrial  statutes  it  has  sought  to  ensure  the  safety  and 
health  of  the  working  class,  and  to  protect  its  members  from 
fraud  and  oppression.  It  maintains  a  certain  standard  of  sani- 
tation in  buildings,  provides  or  encourages  facilities  for  trans- 
port, and  gives  the  rudiments  of  education  without  charge. 
How  much  further  the  state  m-achinery  can  be  profitably  used 
in  this  connection  is  matter  of  controversy  into  which  I  do  not 
inquire  here.  But  whether  trust  be  put  in  the  machinery  of  law 
or  the  efforts  of  voluntary  agency,  the  sphere  of  combined  action 
grows  in  proportion  as  the  respect  for  human  personality  deepens, 


3G4  MORALS  IN   EVOLUTION 

The  obligation  to  do  what  is  in  them  to  make  life  more  human 
will  be  felt  by  some  as  a  debt  which  they  owe  to  suffering  human 
beings,  by  others  as  something  due  to  society.  But  in  this 
relation  at  least  it  is  easy  to  recognize  that  it  is  the  same  principle 
which  is  seen  from  two  different  sides,  and  that  the  conscious 
efforts  to  better  the  life  of  humanity  in  which  the  whole  tend- 
ency of  modern  thought  is  summed  up  can  work  through  no  other 
channel  than  the  humanity  which  is  alive  in  every  man  and 
\N'oman. 


PART   II 

THE    BASIS 
CHAPTER   I 

THE  EARLY  PHASES  OF  THOUGHT 

1.  The  history  of  law  and  custom  gives  us  one  aspect  of 
ethical  evolution.  It  sets  forth  the  standard  of  conduct,  or 
rather  the  standards  recognized  by  different  societies  at  different 
times.  But  behind  the  question  of  the  moral  standard  is  that  of 
the  moral  basis,  the  grounds  on  which  morahty  rests,  the  spirit 
in  which  it  is  conceived.  For,  besides  the  question  what  kind  of 
action  is  expected  from  us  by  our  neighbours,  our  rulers,  our 
spiritual  pastors  and  masters,  moral  philosophy  has  to  recognize 
the  further  question  how  it  is  that  these  expectations  arise.  On 
what  grounds  do  rules  of  action  rest,  what  authority  promulgates 
them  and  by  what  sanction  are  they  enforced  ?  If  it  happens  to 
be  the  interest  of  any  individual  to  disobey  them,  what  reason, 
other  than  physical  compulsion,  can  be  assigned  for  adhering  to 
them  ?  What  is  the  penalty  of  disobedience  ?  What,  if  wrong 
is  done,  are  the  means  of  reconciliation  ?  In  other  words, 
behind  the  question  of  the  moral  standard  there  is  the  pliilo- 
sophical  question  of  the  nature  of  moral  obligation,  of  moral 
authority,  of  the  moral  sanction,  or,  to  use  one  expression  for 
tliem  all,  there  is  the  question  of  the  basis  of  the  moral  order. 

To  understand  how  men  have  conceived  this  question,  and 
what  sort  of  answ^ers  they  attempted  to  propound  for  it,  is  the 
task  that  remains  for  us.  But  to  understand  ethical  evolution 
on  this  side  we  have  first  to  turn  to  departments  of  thought  that 
are  not  in  their  origin  ethical.  For  men's  views  of  what  is 
right  are  necessarily  steeped  in  influences  derived  from  their 
whole  outlook  upon  the  world,  the  range  of  their  mental  capacity, 
their  conception  of  the  creating,  sustaining,  and  governing 
causes  of  tilings,  their  theories  of  human  life  and  society.  We 
cannot,  therefore,  thoroughly  understand  the  history  of  ethics 
\vithout  knowing  something  of  tlie  general  development  of 
thought.     At  the  same  time  we  cannot  here   deal  with  tliis 

365 


3G6  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

development  in  all  its  fulness.  We  must  refer  to  it  only  so  far 
as  it  throws  light  upon  our  special  question.  We  shall  have, 
that  is,  to  take  account  of  what  men  think  and  of  how  they 
think  upon  certain  fundamental  questions  that  affect  practice. 

It  follows  that  we  shall  have  to  examine,  however  concisely, 
some  leading  features  of  religious  development.  Indeed,  accord- 
ing to  one  usage  of  terms  v,e  should  have  to  concern  ourselves 
with  nothing  else.  For  a  man's  rehgion  is  sometimes  held  to 
include  the  sum  and  substance  of  his  vital  thought,  the  final 
meaning  for  Mm  of  his  total  outlook  upon  the  world,  and  if  so  it 
clearly  includes  etliics  as  a  part.  In  a  historical  study,  however, 
it  is  more  convenient  to  consider  religion  as  the  body  of  behef 
and  practice  relative  to  a  spiritual  order  on  which  human  beings 
are  dependent.  The  pivot  of  this  order  may  be  a  personal  being 
or  beings,  or  it  may  be  some  conception  of  the  conditions  govern- 
ing the  life  and  destiny  of  man.  It  may  be  the  life  beyond  the 
grave  and  the  means  of  securing  happiness  in  that  state  which 
inspires  the  religious  interest,  or  it  may  be  the  spiritual  influences 
which  shape  the  hfe  of  the  individual  and  the  race  for  good  or  ill. 
The  conception  of  the  spiritual  is  of  infinite  variety,  and  rehgions 
differ  in  accordance  with  the  purity  of  its  development,  but  in 
one  sense  or  other  there  is  rehgion  when  man's  life  is  held  to  be 
subject  to  spiritual  beings  or  spiritual  principles,  to  which  he 
owes  service,  by  which  he  is  governed,  with  wliich  he  has  in  any 
way  to  make  his  account.  In  this  sense  rehgion  and  ethics, 
though  intimately  related,  are  not  identical,  nor  is  the  religious 
view  of  the  governance  of  the  world,  though  vastly  important, 
the  only  view  with  which  we  shall  have  to  deal.  We  shall  dis- 
tinguish, though  we  shall  not  therefore  separate,  the  rehgious, 
the  etliical,  the  scientific  and  other  fines  of  development,  and 
follow  each  in  turn  so  far  as  is  necessary  for  our  purpose. 

2.  The  religious  interpretation  of  life  and  the  world  must  at 
every  stage  use  the  materials  of  thought  and  experience  that 
it  finds  to  hand.  Itself  an  effort  to  get  on  terms  with  the  world 
surrounding  human  life,  its  tenets  and  practices  are  not  directly 
suggested  by  experience,  but  it  necessarily  makes  use  of  experi- 
ence and  of  such  interpretations  of  experience,  or  such  fancies 
and  transformations  of  experience  as  the  thought  of  its  adherents 
are  capable  of  forming.  The  religious  interpretation  of  life,  then, 
is  relative  to  the  general  level  of  thought,  and  to  understand  the 
earlier  phases  of  rehgion  we  can  best  begin  by  describing  certain 
modes  of  conception  common  to  early  thought  which  are  not 
themselves  necessarily  or  invariably  religious,  but  wliicli  supply 


THE    EARLY    PHASES    OF    THOUGHT       3G7 

material  and  even  formative  conditions  of  early  religion.  We 
may  take,  first,  the  theory  of  Spirits,  to  which  the  name  Animism 
has  been  given  by  anthropologists.  The  name  and  the  defini- 
tion are  so  far  open  to  criticism  that  the  theory  of  a  single 
Creator  might  be  said  to  be  covered  by  the  general  term.  But 
when  we  look  a  Uttle  further  into  the  matter  we  find  that  the 
kind  of  spirits  intended  where  the  term  Animism  is  used  have 
certain  distinguishing  characteristics.  These  characteristics  are 
not  invariable.  Sometimes  one  is  absent,  sometimes  another. 
Often  our  information  is  not  sufiiciently  definite  or  complete  to 
show  us  precisely  how  the  spirit  is  conceived,  but  the  features 
which  we  shall  describe  have  a  certain  affinity  to  one  another, 
and  wherever  the  presence  of  any  one  of  them  is  clearly  marked, 
we  may  describe  the  beUef  as  animistic. 

(a)  The  quasi-material  soul. — Whether  the  human  soul  was 
or  was  not  the  original  model  on  wliich  the  primitive  conception 
of  the  spirit  was  formed,  it  serves  for  us  as  the  type  to  which 
spirits  of  all  kinds  can  be  compared,  and  is  the  natural  starting- 
point,  if  not  of  history,  at  least  of  exposition.  Now  the  behef 
in  the  human  soul  is  not,  as  such,  animistic.  In  one  sense 
or  another  it  may  be  called  universal,  for  even  an  advanced 
materialist  must  admit  a  difference  between  the  living  and 
the  dead  body,  and  if  soul  is  a  mere  expression  for  the  fact  of 
vital  function  or,  perhaps,  of  conscious  life,  can  have  no  objec- 
tion to  admitting  its  existence  and  extinction.  He  might  rank 
himself,  if  he  wished  to  use  anthropological  categories,  with 
the  animatists,  for  he  regards  the  body  as  animated.  What 
distinguishes  the  animistic  view  of  the  human  soul  is  that  it  is 
an  entity,  separable  from  the  body  in  which  it  dwells,  but  itself 
possessing  many  bodily  characteristics,  as  of  some  subtle  material 
essence.  Thus  the  spirit  of  man  goes  out  in  dreams,  and  appears 
to  other  people.  Sometimes  it  leaves  him  temporarily  when  he 
sneezes,  and  hence  it  is  well  to  pray  for  a  blessing  on  him  in  such 
a  moment,  as  we  do  unto  this  day.  It  quits  him  in  trances ;  it 
leaves  him  finally  at  death.  Since  the  spirit  is  a  mere  attenuated 
double  of  the  man  liimself,  it  appears  also  in  his  shadow,^  and 
can  be  seen  mocking  him  when  he  stands  by  the  side  of  a  pool. 

1  For  instances  of  the  shadow  or  reflection  as  the  soul,  see  Tylor,  i.  430 ; 
Golden  Bough,  3rd  ed.  Part  II.  p.  77.  With  this  idea  we  may  connect  the  use 
of  a  picture  as  a  supplementary  home  or  body  for  the  soul  of  the  deceased, 
which  so  often  plays  a  prominent  part  in  the  cult  of  the  dead,  e.  g.  in  ancient 
Egypt  and  in  China  (De  Groot,  i.  113).  The  distinction  between  regarding 
the  picture  (1)  as  a  receptacle  for  the  dead  man's  soul,  and  (2)  as  the  dead 
man  himself  in  a  new  form,  is  one  which  on  animistic  principles  cannot  be 
drawn  with  any  clearness  or  consistency. 


368  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

These  different  appearances  of  the  double,  or  spirit,  have 
not  escaped  savage  man,  and  have  led  him  in  many  cases  to 
an  almost  bewildering  multiphcation  of  souls. ^  With  that 
multiplication  we  need  not  now  concern  ourselves,  we  attend 
only  to  the  fact  of  the  soul's  transmigrations.  This  impalpable 
entity  is  itself,  it  may  be,  transferred  from  one  dwelling-place 
to  another,  leaving  the  outer  seeminj^  unaltered.  The  souls  of 
the  dead  may  pass  into  tigers,  as  among  the  Malays,  and  often 
also  in  India,  and  in  that  form  they  may  take  vengeance  on 
those  who  harm  them  in  this  life.  And  sometimes,  if  possible, 
the  tiger  is  not  killed  for  fear  of  injuring  a  dead  relative,*  but  is 
greatly  feared  for  his  supernatural  even  more  than  his  physical 
prowess.  The  soul  may  wander  away  voluntarily  in  a  dream, 
and  then  sometimes  may  lose  its  way,  or  be  prevented  from 
returning.  It  may  be  extracted  by  sorcery  or  carried  off  by 
ghost?,  whence  come  illnesses,  madness,  and  death.  It  may  be 
trapped  while  on  its  journeys,  but  it  may  also  be  recovered  for 
a  consideration  by  one  who  knows  the  proper  charms  to  catch 
a  soul.  It  may  even  be  swallowed  inadvertently  by  a  doctor. 
If  irretrievably  lost  it  may  be  replaced — so  loosely  is  it  con- 
nected with  the  real  personality  of  the  man — by  another  soul 
purchasable  at  a  price.*  Finally,  at  death  it  still  hovers  in  the 
neighbourhood,  and  may  perchance  be  recalled  if  the  mourners 
raise  their  voices  and  entice  it  with  good  things.* 

The  spirit  being  thus  separable  from  the  body  and  yet  so 
intimately  related,  we  have  to  inquire  into  the  nature  of  the  con- 
nection. Is  the  spirit  dependent  on  the  body,  or  does  the  body 
rather  belong  to  the  spirit,  which  enters  it  from  without  and 
merely  uses  it  for  a  convenient  dwelling  1  It  would  be  hopeless 
to  expect  a  consistent  answer  to  these  questions  from  animism. 
Its  conceptions  fluctuate  between  the  two  ideas."  But  this  very 
elasticity  helps  animism  to  deal  with  many  of  the  facts.  Disease, 
for  example,  may  be  possession  by  a  temporary  demon.*     The 

1  For  illustrations,  see  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture^  i.  434. 

8  Waitz,  V.  i.  166. 

^  For  a  summary  of  the  evidence,  see  Golden  Bough,  3rd  ed.  II.  30-77. 

*  That  this  is  the  meaning  of  ceremonial  wailing  for  the  dead  in  China 
is  shown  by  De  Groot  (vol.  i.  pp.  244,  etc.).  De  Groot  compares  the  Roman 
conclamafio,  and  corresponding  customs  in  Picardy,  California,  the 
Caribbean  Islands,  etc.  Religion  has  here,  as  so  often,  merely  stereotyped 
and  given  inner  meaning  to  a  natural  impulse. 

*  See  Tylor,  loc.  cit. 

*  With  equal  facility,  in  connection  with  the  opposite  pole  of  animism, 
disease  becomes  a  quasi-material  object,  magic  stones  or  pointing  sticks, 
driven  into  a  man  by  spirits,  which  can  be  extracted  by  a  doctor,  and 
perhaps  transferred  to  another  person,  or  walled  up  in  a  tree  (Golden 
Bough,  2nd  ed.  iii.  29,  etc. ;   Tylor,  ii    148). 


THE  EARLY  PHASES   OF  THOUGHT  369 

inspired  soothsayer,  the  raving  madman,  are  momentarily  pos- 
sessed by  god  or  demon.  The  quick-witted  plan,  the  impulsive 
crime,  are  stimulated  by  Pallas  Athene,  or  by  the  Erinnys,^ 
which  is  impelling  a  man  to  his  own  destrviction.  Animism,  in 
short,  has  a  ready  explanation  for  all  the  cases  in  which  we  seem 
to  suffer  or  to  act  not  wholly  by  and  with  our  own  will.  But 
what  of  our  own  spirits  ?  Are  they  dependent  upon  the  body 
or  not  ?  Clearly  not  altogether  so,  or  they  would  not  wander 
away  in  dreams,  nor  would  the  soul  escape  at  death  with  the 
last  breath,  nor  live  on  wliile  the  body  manifestly  decays.  Yet 
animism  is  far  from  being  satisfied  that  the  soul  can  do  without 
some  bodily  support.  Sometimes  the  corpse  itself  is  necessary 
to  the  soul's  life,  and  is  accordingly  preserved  with  jealous  care. 
The  corpse  remains  quasi -animated.  It  can  eat  and  drink. 
Its  mutilation  injures  the  spirit.  If  unburied  it  suffers  from 
exposure  and  its  spirit  will  cause  a  drought  to  protect  it  from  the 
rain. 2  It  is  as  far  as  possible  protected  and  preserved  that  the 
spirit  may  at  the  proper  time  rejoin  it.  But  since  in  reality  the 
corpse  decays,  what  is  the  soul  to  do  ?  Apparently  it  needs  a 
body  of  one  kind  or  another.  The  Austrahan  ancestor  of  the 
Alcheringa  deposited  his  soul  in  a  pebble  or  oblong  piece  of  wood. 
The  Egyptian  made  likenesses  of  the  deceased,  statues  and  bas- 
reliefs,  which  the  soul  could  inhabit.  The  Chinese  make  a  tablet 
specially  fitted  for  the  dead  man's  habitation  by  the  accurate 
inscription  of  his  name  and  all  his  titles.  Among  other  peoples 
quite  a  different  view  is  taken  of  the  soul's  needs.  Dimly  con- 
ceived as  a  thin  aerial  substance,  it  is  thought  to  require  that 
the  body,  together  with  its  food  and  raiment,  should  be  reduced 
to  the  same  form.  So  the  corpse  is  burnt,  and  with  it  all  that 
is  devoted  to  the  service  of  the  dead.  In  all  these  cases,  whether 
with  the  aid  of  the  corpse  or  Tvithout  it,  whether  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  the  grave  or  in  another  world,  or  in  both  places  at  once, 
the  soul  is  held  to  maintain  a  semi -independent  existence,  its 
happiness  or  misery  being  determined  largely  by  the  amount 
of  attention  paid  to  it  by  its  descendants  upon  earth.  There 
remains  one  other  alternative  frequently  adopted  and  finally 
becoming  the  basis  of  a  great  rehgious  system — that  it  should  find 
itself  a  new  home  by  passing  into  another  being.  It  then  belongs 
for  life  to  the  body  which  it  inhabits,  but  it  existed  before  the 
body  and  will  survive  it.     There  is  a  limited  or  partial  inter- 

^  Tlie  &T7}  which  is  responsible  for  an  act  of  folly  or  crime  is  implanted 
in  the  soul  by  the  Fury  which  will  avenge  it  (see,  e.g.  Odyssey,  xv.  233). 
Cf.  Leist,  pp.  320,  321 ;   Tylor,  ii.  126-131. 

*  t)e  Groot,  i,  57,  342;   iii.  918,  etc. 


370  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

dependence.  This  limited  interdependence  v/e  may  take  as  the 
central  idea  around  which  animistic  theories  radiate.  Soul  and 
body  are  two  things,  not  one.  But  without  soul,  body  decays, 
and  A\ithout  some  sort  of  body,  real  or  fictitious,  the  soul  appears 
to  be,  at  best,  enfeebled  and  miserable. 

Though  the  soul  is  so  subtle  and  impalpable  that  it  can  transfer 
itself  without  difficulty,  or  without  betraying  the  change  through 
any  physical  or  outward  modifications,  it  is  nevertheless  capable 
of  being  dealt  with  as  we  deal  with  visible  and  tangible  objects. 
It  may  be  tied  with  cords,  or  driven  away  with  weapons,  or, 
since,  after  all,  it  has  a  modicum  of  intelhgence,  frightened  away 
with  shouts  and  threats.  When  an  Australian  war  party  loses 
a  man  the  spirit  of  the  dead  follows  them  back  in  the  form  of  a 
bird,  and  is  frightened  off  when  they  get  home.  A  part  of  the 
ceremony  of  mourmng  is  to  beat  the  air — not  as  a  symbol  of  the 
futihty  of  human  grief — but  for  the  purposeful  object  of  driving 
the  ghost  away,  and  the  funeral  is  not  complete  till  the  spirit  is 
frightened  out  of  the  camp  and  into  the  grave  where  it  should 
lie.^  Half  the  world  away  we  find  the  Guaycurus  of  Paraguay 
sallying  forth  with  clubs  to  repel  the  storm  spirit ,2  and  we  know 
from  Herodotus  that  the  Caunians,  being  disgusted  with  their 
gods,  took  bovvs  and  spears  and  drove  them  bodily  out  of  the 
land  with  execrations  and  insults.  As  late  as  the  conquest  by 
the  Spaniards,  bad  spirits  were  driven  annually  out  of  Cuzco, 
in  Peru,  by  armed  warriors.^  Dem^ons  may  be  caught  and 
imprisoned,  as  among  the  liill  tribes  of  Bengal,*  or  they  may  be 
expelled  by  charms,  as  when  the  llama's  blood  is  sprinkled  to 
this  day  in  Peru  on  a  doorway  to  keep  them  out  of  the  hut.  The 
soul  may  be  put  away  for  safety  into  a  tree,^  as  in  the  famous 
case  of  the  Golden  Bough,  or,  as  it  leaves  the  dead  man,  it  may 
be  induced  to  come  back  and  re-incarnate  itself  in  some  child 
of  the  family.  Wlien  the  West  African  negro  wakes  with  a 
headache  or  sickness  he  sends.  Miss  Kingsley  tells  us,  for  a  doctor, 
who,  promptly  diagnosing  his  case  as  a  loss  of  soul,  proceeds  to 
institute  a  search.  In  process  of  time  the  soul  is  duly  caught, 
by  methods  best  known  to  the  doctor,  brought  in  a  box  to  the 

1  Spencer  and  Gillen,  I.  493-506. 

*  Payne,  i.  390.  Among  the  Haytians  the  gods  would  shamelessly  quit 
the  tribe  in  case  of  misfortune,  and  were  therefore  secured  by  cotton  ropes 
(ib.,  p.  319).  '•>  Payne,  i.  391.  *  Reclus,  Primitive  Folk,  301-303. 

^  De  Groot  (iv.  106)  has  a  good  story  of  a  Chinese  criminal  who  could 
not  be  put  to  death  because  he  had  put  his  soul  into  a  bottle.  Three  days 
after  being  decapitated  his  trunk  and  head  had  re-united  themselves.  But 
his  mother,  whom  he  had  beaten,  betrayed  his  secret,  and  on  her  advice  the 
vase  was  broken,  and  after  this  the  criminal  was  successfully  flogged  to 
death. 


THE  EARLY  PHASES   OF  THOUGHT  371 

sick  man's  bed,  and  duly  blown  into  him,  to  his  mental  comfort, 
and  thereby,  through  the  power  of  faith-healing,  possibly  to  his 
physical  restoration  .^ 

But  the  commonest  evidence  of  the  material  character  of  the 
spirit  is  its  power  of  eating  and  drinking  like  an  ordinary  man. 
The  gods  of  the  Babylonians  came  about  the  sacrifice  like  fhes ; 
the  ghosts  in  Hades  lapped  the  blood  which  Odysseus  brought 
for  them.  The  spirit  of  the  place  partakes  of  the  drops  of 
wine  which  are  poured  out  from  a  cup.  The  dead  man  is  a 
participant  in  the  funeral  feast.  The  only  doubt  here  is  whether 
the  ghost  eats  the  food  or  the  ghost  of  the  food.^  Since  the  food 
does  not  actually  disappear,  the  savage  mind  is  put  to  some 
trouble  on  the  point,  and  sometimes  the  difficulty  seems  to  have 
been  the  cause  of  scepticism.  The  question  was  put  by  a  young 
Zulu  in  this  way  :  "  When  we  ask,  '  Wliat  do  the  other  Amadhlozi 
do,  for  in  the  morning  we  see  aU  the  meat  ?  '  the  old  men  say, 
'  The  Amatongo  lick  it,'  and  we  are  unable  to  contradict  them 
and  are  silent,  for  they  are  older  than  we  are  and  tell  us  all  things ; 
we  listen,  for  we  are  told  all  things,  and  assent  without  seeing 
clearly  whether  they  are  true  or  not,"  ^  Such  difficulties  could 
be  resolved  by  the  theory  that  it  was  the  soul  of  the  sacrifice 
that  went  to  the  gods,  as  the  Fijians  hold,  and  so  at  a  cannibal 
feast  among  them  there  is  a  double  advantage,  for  while  the  men 
eat  the  body  the  gods  eat  the  soul,  and  both  are  benefited  ahke. 
The  dead  wife  of  Periander  told  her  husband  that  she  was  cold 
because  her  clothes  had  not  been  burnt,  and  she  was  only  warm 
when  he  had  made  a  holocaust  of  the  wardrobes  of  the  Corinthian 
women.  The  dead  man's  horse  is  slain  at  his  grave  that  the 
ghost  of  the  one  may  ride  the  ghost  of  the  other.  The  wife  is 
sacrificed  to  a  similar  order  of  ideas,  and  sometimes,  the  principle 
being  logically  carried  through,  the  weapons  and  implements  of 
the  deceased  are  broken  before  they  are  laid  beside  him. 

The  spirit  being  thus  materiahzed  appears  to  enjoy  an  in- 
dependent existence  of  its  own.  Here  we  touch  the  central 
contradiction  of  animism.  The  conception  of  the  soul  has  its 
justification  either  (a)  in  the  facts  of  consciousness,  or  (6)  in  the 
laws  of  the  living  body,  or  in  both  combined.     In  either  case  it  is 

1  IVIiss  Kingsley,  West  African  Studies,  p.  200. 

^  Strictly  speaking  there  is  a  third  alternative — the  corpse  itself  may  eat 
the  food.  This  appears  to  have  been  the  primitive  Chinese  conception, 
which  by  the  time  of  Confucius  had  yielded  to  the  somewhat  more  refined 
view  that  the  food  placed  on  the  grave  was  destined  for  the  soul.  Hence 
arose  the  custom  of  placing  the  offerings  upon  the  tomb  instead  of  within  it 
(De  Groot,  vol.  ii.  p.  384). 

»  Tylor,  ii.  387. 


372  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

contrasted  with  the  notion  of  body  as  such,  for  consciousness  has 
no  bodily  attributes  and  the  laws  observable  in  bodies  are  not 
bodies.  Yet  for  animism  the  soul  turns  out  to  be  another  body — 
a  visible  and  material  thing — only  thinner  and  less  palpable — 
a  mere  "  double  "  of  the  appearances  which  it  should  explain. 
For  the  primitive  mind  cannot  grasp  an  object  of  thought  without 
transforming  it  into  an  object  of  sense.  It  needs  a  principle, 
comiecting  things  that  it  can  see  or  hear,  and  by  a  confusion  of 
categories  it  makes  of  it  merely  another  thing  that  it  can  see  and 
hear. 

(b)  The  sub-human  soul. — If  the  soul  of  man  is  materialized  by 
animism,  the  bodies  of  other  beings  are  in  return  spiritualized. 
A  familiar  and  widespread,  though  probably  not  a  universal 
development  of  animism,  is  that  which  sees  spirits  everywhere, 
not  one  spirit  that  underlies  all  things,  but  separate  spirits 
underlying  aU  manner  of  things  as  the  efficient  causes  of  their 
qualities  and  actions.^  A  stone,  a  tree,  a  blade  of  grass,  the 
wind,  an  animal,  a  human  being,  a  mountain,  a  river,  the 
sea,  the  sky,  the  sun,  the  rain,  an  epidemic  disease — any  or 
all  of  these  may  be  conceived  by  the  savage  mind  as  the 
dweUing-place  or  the  manifestation,  as  the  case  may  be,  of 
a  spiritual  agency  which  controls  their  behaviour;  and  this 
spiritual  agency  may  be  the  object  of  fear  or  worship,  of  prayer 
and  supplication,  possibly  of  cajolement  or  abuse,  finally  of 

^  Wliile  the  belief  in  the  soul  of  man  is  probably  universal,  the  question 
how  far  the  conception  is  extended  to  inanimate  things  by  primitive  races 
is  one  to  which  it  would  be  hazardous  to  give  any  general  answer.  If  the 
tendency  to  attribute  all  actions  to  a  spirit  were  erected  into  an  avowed 
principle,  and  consistently  applied,  everything  capable  of  being  conceived 
as  a  d^tinct  object  would  become  also  the  seat  of  a  spirit.  That  this  would 
involve  much  duplication  and,  so  to  say,  overlapping,  would  present  no 
difficulty  to  the  animistic  mode  of  thought,  which  does  in  fact  frequently 
conceive  a  greater  object  as  animated  by  one  spirit,  while  the  lesser  objects 
which  form  its  parts  have  each  a  spirit  of  its  own.  Thus,  among  the  Chinese, 
*'  one  of  man's  chief  gods  is  the  Shen^  pervading  the  Earth  as  a  single 
entity  :  and  those  which  dwell  in  its  several  parts,  its  mountains,  hills, 
rivers,  raeres,  rocks  and  stones,  are  likewise  his  divinities  "  (De  Groot, 
vol.  iv.  p.  325).  The  conception,  if  we  try  to  think  it  out,  raises  questions 
of  identity  and  of  individuality  which  might  puzzle  us,  but  probably  do 
not  puzzle  primitive  man.  Be  this  as  it  may,  the  tendency  to  people  things 
with  spirits  in  indiscriminate  profusion  is  widespread  if  not  universal  in 
the  primitive  world.  For  numerous  instances  see  Frazer,  Golden  Bough, 
vol.  iii.  p.  43  seq. ;  e.  g.  "  The  Mantras,  an  aboriginal  race  of  the  Malay 
Peniiisula,  '  find  or  put  a  spirit  everywhere,  in  the  air  they  breathe,  in  the 
land  they  cultivate,  in  the  forests  they  inhabit,  in  the  trees  they  cut  down, 
in  the  caves  of  the  rocks.  According  to  them,  the  demon  is  the  cause  of 
everything  that  turns  out  ill.  If  they  are  sick,  a  demon  is  at  the  bottom  of 
it ;  if  an  accident  happens,  it  is  still  the  spirit  who  is  at  work ;  thereupon  the 
demon  takes  the  name  of  the  particular  evil  of  which  he  is  supposed  to  be 
the  cause '  "  (Frazer,  2ad  ed.  iii.  48). 


THE  EARLY  PHASES   OF  THOUGHT  373 

actual  physical  violence.  Naturally,  not  all  spirits  move  men 
alike.  Harmless  inanimate  things  are  seldom  at  this  stage  the 
objects  of  much  sohcitude,  unless  by  some  accident  of  belief  they 
are  associated  with  a  powerful  spirit  for  some  special  reason. 
Thus,  among  the  Tshi  of  the  West  African  coast,  everything 
is  supposed  to  be  animated  by  indwelhng  spirits,  but  little 
attention  is  paid  to  the  spirits  of  bushes,  grasses,  stones.  More 
dangerous  ones,  as  the  spirits  of  the  rivers  and  lagoons,  the  sea, 
the  mountains,  are  the  objects  to  which  the  Tshi  cult  devotes 
attention.^  Nevertheless,  spirits  may  inhabit  the  most  un- 
promising exterior ;  thus  an  essential  part  of  Austrahan  belief 
is  the  indwelhng  of  spirits  in  certain  objects,  generally  oblong 
pebbles^  called  "  churinga."  But  these  fall  within  tlie  explana- 
tion hinted  above,  for  they  were  stones  carried  about  by  the  men 
of  the  Alcheringa,  the  ancestors  of  the  "great  long-ago,"  who 
deposited  their  souls  in  them  and  left  them  by  some  tree  or  cave, 
from  whence  at  times  they  pass  into  the  cliildren  of  the  present 
generation.  Aino  spirits  inhabit  curiously  peeled  sticks.  The 
Waralis  worship  a  stone  smeared  with  ghi,  but  "  there  is  some- 
tliing  more  there  than  the  stone."  ^   It  is  far  more  congenial  to  our 

^  Ellis,  Yoruba- speaking  Peoples,  p.  276. 

*  Stone-worship  must  be  ranked  among  the  most  paradoxical  develop- 
ments of  animism — a  stone  being  to  our  minds  the  very  type  of  the  in- 
animate. Jevons  (History  of  Religion,  pp.  131-144)  inchnes  to  think  tha* 
it  is  in  most  cases  derivative,  the  stone  having  been  originally  an  altar^ 
but  admits  (p.  137)  that  the  worship  of  remarkably  shaped  rocks  would 
belong  to  primitive  animism.  Sir  A.  Lyall  (Asiatic  Studies,  First  Series, 
p.  12)  ascribes  the  primitive  worship  of  stones  in  India  "  to  that  simple 
awe  of  the  unusual  which  belongs  to  no  particular  religion."  We  have 
here  something  simpler  and  more  primitive  than  animism  itself,  to  which 
further  reference  will  be  made  later.  The  next  stage  is  that  the  stone  is  the 
dwelling-place  of  a  spirit.  At  a  higher  stage  it  is  connected  by  a  myth  with 
some  "  saint,  demi-god,  or  full-blown  deity."  Finally,  it  may  remain  in 
a  spiritual  religion  as  a  mere  symbol.  Sir  A.  Lyall  "  knew  a  Hindu  officer 
of  great  shrewdness  and  very  fair  education,  who  devoted  several  hours 
daily  to  the  elaborate  worship  of  five  round  pebbles,  wliich  he  had  appointed 
to  be  his  symbol  of  omnipotence.  Although  his  general  belief  was  in  one 
all-pervading  Divinity,  he  must  have  something  symbolic  to  handle  and 
address  "  (Asiatic  Studies,  First  Series,  p.  13).  These  would  no  doubt  be 
the  regular  five  stones  "  supposed  to  be  instinct  with  the  divine  essence  " 
of  southern  Brahmanism  (Moore,  Hist.  Rel.,  p.  347).  For  a  discussion 
of  the  fetiehistic  and  symbolic  views  of  stone-worship,  see  also  Tylor, 
Primitive  Culture  (ed.  1903),  vol.  ii.  p.  160.  Wliatever  its  character,  stone- 
worship  as  an  element  in  early  religion  is  widespread.  De  la  Saussaye 
(Manual  of  the  Science  of  Religion,  Eng.  Trs.  i.  85  ff.)  finds  it  among  the 
South  Sea  Islanders,  in  Central  Asia,  among  the  Finns,  Laps,  Negroes, 
ancient  Peruvians,  Hindoos,  ancient  Hebrews,  ancient  Arabs,  Greeks, 
Romans,  in  the  Hebrides  and  in  mediaeval  Europe,  and  while  recognizing 
the  blend,  hard  to  distinguish,  of  the  altar,  the  fetich  and  the  symbol,  is 
inclined  to  conclude  that  the  safest  explanation  of  the  cult  is  the  Tacitean 
"  ratio  in  obscure." 

»  Wilson,  J.R.A.S.,  1843. 


374  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

ways  of  thinking  to  worship  the  thunder  god  with  the  Hidatsa,  to 
beUeve  in  sylvan  deities  with  the  Burmese,  and  to  people  caverns 
and  whirlpools  with  spirits  like  the  Congolese.  It  is  natural  for 
us  to  regard  the  human  soul  as  the  model  on  which  the  spirits  of 
animals,  plants  and  inanimate  objects  are  formed,  and  in  a  sense 
it  is  so.  For  it  is,  of  course,  the  experience  of  mental  life  within 
the  self  that  gives  meaning  to  all  ideas  of  a  mental  life  without. 
But  we  are  hardly  to  suppose  that  the  idea  of  the  separate  soul 
in  man  is  first  formed  and  that  by  a  reflective  process  a  corre- 
sponding double  is  attributed  to  material  things  by  way  of 
explaining  their  notions.  Such  attribution  is  logic,  though  an 
imperfect  and  uncritical  logic,  and  logic  plays  but  a  secondary 
part  in  primitive  thinking.  Probably  the  earher  stage  is  that 
which  merely  treats  inanimate  things  as  though  they  were  alive, 
and  plants  and  animals  as  though  they  were  human,  without 
attributing  to  them  a  separable  spirit.  This  is  the  stage  called 
Animatism  ^ — the  theory  that  things  are  alive,  or  still  more 
strictly,  the  practice  of  treating  them  as  alive — as  distinguished 
from  the  theory  that  they  are  the  abode  of  spirits.  The  dis- 
tinction is  rather  one  of  degree  than  of  principle.  Animism  is 
animatism  made  more  concrete  and  definite.  For  the  very 
fact  that  "  prayers  "  or  incantations  are  addressed  to  a  being 
is  proof  that  he  is  regarded  as  understanding  them  :  that  if 
sacrifices  are  offered  liim  he  is  held  capable  of  receiving  them 
and  enjoying  them — in  a  word,  that  he  is  to  that  extent  a  living 
being  and  marJike. 

It  is  characteristic  of  early  thought  that  fundamental  dis- 
tinctions like  those  of  mind  and  matter  are  not  yet  clearly  drawn. 
Men,  animals,  plants  and  the  inanima,te  world  are  therefore 
much  more  nearly  on  a  level  than  they  are  for  us.  It  is  this 
which  makes  possible  that  mystic  bond  between  a  human  being 
or  a  group  of  human  beings  on  the  one  side  and  a  non-human 
object  on  the  other  which,  whatever  its  origin,  is  the  essence  of 
totemism.  It  is  the  same  condition  of  thought  wliich  disposes 
men  to  approach  nature  in  the  same  spirit  and  manner  in  which 
they  deal  with  one  another.  If  original  mazdaism  sacrificed 
butter  to  fire  without  conceiving  it  as  anything  but  the  material 
fire  that  its  worshippers  saw,  this  only  shows  that  the  process  of 
distinction  between  a  living  thing  that  can  be  gratified  by  food, 
and  a  fire  that  can  only  consume  it,  had  not  begun.  Yet  im- 
plicitly the  fire  is  already  treated  as  living  and  understanding, 
and  tliis  "  implicit  "  animism  would  then  be  merely  the  lowest 
stage  of  the  development,  and  would  grow  into  animism  proper 

*  A  term  due  to  Mr.  R.  R.  JMarett,  cf.  The  Threshold  of  Religion,  ii.  14. 


THE  EARLY  PHASES  OF  THOUGHT  375 

as  soon  as  its  implications  became  realized,  so  that  in  sacrificing 
to  fire  men  began  avowedly  to  treat  fire  as  a  living  thing.i 

Animism  in  the  narrower  sense  can  only  be  attributed  to  a 
people  when  we  have  explicit  information  as  to  their  modes  of 
thought.  But  animatism  can  be  readily  inferred  from  their 
cult.  If  they  make  offerings  to  the  sun,  a  tree,  or  a  stone,  they 
are  treating  sun,  tree  or  stone  like  intelligent  beings,  whether 
they  regard  them  as  possessing  separable  spirits  or  not.  If 
we  allow  ourselves  to  use  animism  in  a  generic  sense  to  include 
all  behefs  and  practices  which  treat  the  inanimate,  the  vegetable, 
or  the  animal  as  if  they  were  human,  we  shall  find  traces  of 
animism  all  over  the  world,  and  in  its  way  of  merging  funda- 
mentally different  classes  in  one  we  shall  recognize  a  principle 
of  the  first  importance  in  primitive  cults. 

To  our  minds  worship  can  be  paid  only  to  a  being  higher  than 
ourselves,  and  the  "spiritual  "  expresses  that  higher  sphere  of 
being  into  wliich  man  enters  by  virtue  of  what  is  best  in  him 
and  what  is  most  removed  from  the  material  and  the  animal. 
Such  conceptions  as  these  underhe  all  the  higher  religions,  but 
they  are  wholly  foreign  to  animism.  Essentially  the  cult  of 
animism  is  not  an  adoration  of  a  being  higher  than  man,  but 
a  mode  of  influencing  beings  conceived  as  possessing  powers 
wliich  may  be  useful  or  harmful  to  the  believer.  And  spirit,  as 
animism  conceives  it,  though  certainly  impl5dng  enough  of  in- 
telhgence  to  comprehend  the  meaning  of  a  promise  or  threat,  is 
far  from  implying  a  higher  type  of  moral  or  mental  power  than 
that  of  the  human  "  worshipper."  We  are  accustomed  to  think 
of  the  rudest  rehgions  as  anthropomorphic,  and  to  say  that  man 
first  framed  gods  in  his  o■w^l  image.  But  in  truth  the  majority 
of  the  beings  worshipped  by  primitive  man  are  not  human,  but 
sometliing  less  than  human.  The  distinctly  evil  agencies  are 
more  prominent  than  the  good,  for  why  should  savage  man 
trouble  himself  to  please  great  spirits  who  are  naturally  benevo- 
lent 1  It  is  the  bad  spirit  who  will  otherwise  make  himself 
troublesome  that  the  savage  is  anxious  to  concihate  with  the 


^  Of  the  early  Roman  cults  Mr.  Warde  Fowler  writes  :  "  Vesta  seems  to 
be  the  fire,  Penates  the  store,  or  at  least  spirits  indistinguishable  from  the 
substance  composing  the  store  "  (Religious  Experience  of  the  Roman  People, 
p.  116).  Wliich  precisely  they  were  could  only  be  told  if  we  had  contem- 
porary literatvire  or  art  to  explain  the  precise  manner  in  which  the  cult  was 
understood.  On  the  other  hand,  tliat  they  were  not  personalities  "  perfectly 
distinct  from  the  object  "  in  which  they  resided  is  quite  clear  {ih.).  The 
passage  illustrates  the  relative  sharpness  of  the  upper  limit  of  animism 
(see  below,  p.  402)  and  the  vagucnoss  of  the  lower  boundary  where  it  passes 
into  animatism. 


376  MORALS  IN  EVOIUTION 

best  of  his  store.^  And  the  intellectual  level  is  as  low  as  the 
moral.  The  savage  is  confident  in  his  power  to  deceive  the  spirit 
whom  he  addresses  by  methods  which  could  hardly  take  in  the 
savage  man  himself.  The  Naga  propitiates  a  mahgnant  deity  bj' 
setting  out  for  him  a  small  fowl  in  a  large  basket.  The  god  is 
deceived  by  the  size  of  the  basket,  and  distributes  favours 
accordingly .2  The  ghost  of  a  mother  who  would  carry  off  her 
chUd  is  deceived  in  the  Banks  Islands  by  a  piece  of  banana  trunk 
which  is  laid  on  her  bosom  in  her  grave  .^  Disease  demons  may 
be  diverted  by  similar  methods.  Thus,  in  an  epidemic,  the  Dyaks 
set  up  wooden  images  at  the  doors  of  their  dwelhngs,  that  the 
disease  may  carry  them  off  instead  of  the  living  people.*  When 
the  Kaffir  is  hunting  an  elephant,  he  begs  the  elephant  not  to 
tread  on  him — surely  as  curious  a  confusion  of  ideas  as  is  to  be 
found  in  primitive  thought — for,  on  the  one  hand,  the  elephant's 
soul  is  held  to  have  intelhgence  enough  to  understand  the  petition, 
and,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  supposed  to  be  so  stupid  as  to  be 
taken  in  by  the  request  when  the  petitioner  is  all  the  while  seeking 
to  take  his  life.  The  Samoyeds  are  more  crafty,  for  they  tell  the 
bear  that  it  was  the  Russians  who  killed  him ;  and  the  North 
American  Indians  spare  the  rattlesnake,  risking  the  physical 
evils  which  they  knoAV,  in  dread  of  the  vengeance  which  the 
rattlesnake's  spirit  would  take  on  them,  and  which  they  do  not 
know  and  cannot  measure.^  The  crude  conception  of  the  spiritual 
which  these  cases  vividly  illustrate  goes  far  to  determine  both 
the  objects  and  the  methods  of  animistic  cults.  Animal-gods  and 
man-gods  belong  to  the  animistic  level  of  rehgion,  because  it  is 
only  at  this  level  that  animals  or  men  can  be  the  objects  of  a  cult 
without  being  regarded  as  the  representations  or  embodiments 
of  something  far  higher  than  themselves.  Animism  does  indeed 
regard  them  as  embodiments  of  a  spirit,  but  this  spirit  is  not 
essentially  superior,  either  morally  or  intellectually,  to  the 
animal  or  man  in  which  it  dwells.  The  Toda  addresses  a  cow, 
chosen  by  descent  or  by  consecration  to  be  the  head  of  the  herd, 

^  For  illustrations,  see  below,  p.  425. 

»  Godden,  J.  A.  I.,  xxvi.  187. 

'  Golden  Bough,  2nd  ed.  vol.  ii.  p.  345,  where  numerous  instances  of  the 
same  kind  are  given.  The  widespread  substitution  of  models  for  real  food, 
implements,  etc.,  in  sacrifices  to  the  dead  is  hardly  to  be  regarded  as  a 
deception — or,  if  so,  rather  as  a  form  of  self-deception — the  model,  pardon- 
ably enough  on  animistic  grounds,  being  held  as  good  a  vehicle  for  soul-food, 
soul-money,  etc.,  as  a  real  loaf  or  a  gold  piece. 

*  ib.,  348. 

*  Tylor,  vol.  i.  p.  467 ;  Schoolcraft- Drake,  vol.  i.  p.  232.  Similarly  the 
Western  Eskimo,  before  setting  to  upon  the  stranded  whale,  would 
receive  him  with  divine  honours,  harangue  and  compliment  him  (Reclus, 
p.  52). 


THE  EARLY  PHASES  OF  THOUGHT  377 

as  being  herself  a  goddess  :  "  How  fair  was  thy  mother  !  how 
much  milk  she  gave  !  Be  not  less  generous  !  Henceforth  thou 
shalt  be  a  divinity  among  us.  .  ,  .  Bear  a  thousand  calves  !  "  ^ 
So  sacred  is  this  divinity  that  the  chief  milkman  is  himself  a 
man-god.  Yet  the  animal  which  is  worsliipped  is  also  unhesi- 
tatingly turned  to  human  uses.  Often  the  god  may,  with  due 
observance  of  the  proper  solemnities,  be  killed  and  eaten  by 
his  votaries.  Thus,  among  the  Australians,  at  the  Intichiuma 
ceremonies  a  man  not  only  may,  but  must,  eat  his  totem,  or  the 
supply  would  fail. 2  The  Gilyaks  of  Eastern  Siberia  bring  up  a 
bear  cub  with  divine  honours.  Fish,  brandy  and  other  things 
are  offered  to  him  in  every  house .  People  prostrate  themselves 
before  him,  and  his  entrance  into  a  house  confers  a  blessing, 
but  he  is  also  teased  and  worried.  After  visiting  every  house  in 
the  village,  he  is  shot  dead  with  arrows  and  eaten. ^  In  such 
practices,  illustrations  of  which  might  be  indefinitely  multiplied, 
the  savage  is,  in  liis  way,  getting  the  best  of  both  worlds.  He 
needs  the  animal's  flesh  and  is  afraid  of  liis  spirit.  Not  only 
may  the  particular  bear  wliich  he  has  killed  have  its  avenging 
ghost,  but  all  the  bears  may  stand  together  in  the  blood  feud 
and  take  vengeance  on  the  murderer  of  their  kinsman.  So  he 
pays  honour  to  the  individual  bear  slain,  and  through  him  to 
his  fellow-bears.  He  comforts  himself,  in  short,  with  a  con- 
ception of  the  bear  spirit  which  is  intelligent  enough  to  under- 
stand the  show  of  honours  and  the  words  of  cajolery,  and  stupid 
enough  to  let  these  make  up  to  it  for  the  hard  facts  of  being 
killed  and  eaten.* 

The  worship  of  men  might  seem  intrinsically  higher  than 
that  of  animals.  But  in  point  of  fact  no  distinction  of  principle 
severs  the  cult  of  man-gods  in  many  primitive  religions  from 

1  Reclus,  p.  218. 

*  Spencer  and  Gillen,  vol.  i.  p.  168.  When  the  Australian  does  not  eat 
the  totem  himself,  it  is  by  his  permission  that  others  do  so.  In  fact,  he  is 
held  responsible  for  maintaining  the  supply  of  his  totem  for  the  benefit  of 
other  totem-groups  (Spencer  and  Gillen,  vol.  ii.  p.  160).  Strictly,  the 
totem  should  not  be  spoken  of  as  a  god,  the  conception  being  magical  rather 
than  religious,  but  the  point  here  is  the  ceremonial  eating  of  that  which  is 
ordinarily  sacred. 

3  Oolden  Bough,  vol.  ii.  p.  380.  For  many  other  instances  of  killing  and 
eating  the  divine  or  sacred  animal,  see  the  same  work,  vol.  ii.  pp.  302,  366, 
396,  435. 

*  The  slain  animal,  if  properly  treated,  may  even  invite  others  to  come 
and  be  killed.  The  Orinoco  Indians,  having  killed  an  animal,  pour  a  little 
liquor  into  its  mouth,  "  that  the  soul  of  the  dead  beast  may  inform  ita 
fellows  of  the  welcome  it  has  met  with,  and  that  they,  too,  cheered  by  the 
prospect  of  the  same  kind  reception,  may  come  with  alacrity  to  be  killed  " 
(Oolden  Bough,  vol.  ii.  p.  402).  Many  similar  instances  are  given  by  Mr. 
Frazer. 


378  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

that  of  animals  as  just  described.  The  man-god  of  this  stage 
must  not  be  confused  with  the  anthropomorphic  deity  of  poly- 
theism and  the  cruder  monotheism.  This  deity  is  a  spirit 
conceived  as  clad  with  human  attributes.  The  man-god  is  an 
ordinary  human  being  conceived  as  the  incarnation  of  a  powerful 
spirit  or  as  possessed  of  magical  powers.  In  the  lowest  grade 
he  is  merely  a  sorcerer,  whose  power  is  due  to  his  relations  with 
ghosts  and  other  spirits.  At  a  further  stage  of  development 
he  has  marvellous  powers  of  his  own  whereby  he  controls  rain 
and  sunshine,  the  winds  and  the  crops.^  Owing  to  the  occult 
influence  emanating  from  liim,  this  mighty  being  becomes  so 
full  of  danger  to  his  people  that  his  movements  and  actions  have 
to  be  closely  restricted.  To  drink  of  his  cup  or  eat  the  remnants 
of  his  food  is  fatal.  His  touch  and  his  glance  are  deadly.  His 
misbehaviour  may  involve  his  whole  people  in  ruin.  In  con- 
sequence he  is  surrounded  with  all  kinds  of  precautions,  and  he 
ends  by  being  a  mere  puppet  in  the  hands  of  priests.  Thus 
the  Egyptian  Pharaoh,  a  typical  man-god,  is  described  by 
Diodorus^  as  hedged  round  both  in  his  public  and  private  Hfe  by 
watchful  sacerdotal  control  which  minutely  prescribed  to  him 
the  order  of  liis  actions.  Similarly  at  Babylon,  though  the  king 
was  not  strictly  a  god,  the  whole  country  suffered  for  his  faults 
and  he  had  to  observe  taboos — e.  g.  avoiding  meat  on  the  seventh 
day — which  apparently  concerned  no  one  else.^ 

Lastly,  the  man-god  may  be  the  incarnation  of  a  spirit  which 
lives  independently  of  him.  Of  such  a  type  the  most  familiar 
instance  to  us  is  the  everlasting  Buddha  of  the  Thibetans.  In 
this  idea  of  incarnation  death  and  re-birth  necessarily  play  an 
important  part.  The  gods  themselves  die  in  the  philosophy  of 
animism,  for  death  is  only  the  migration  of  a  spirit.  Some- 
times it  is  its  migration  to  better  quarters,  and  when  this  flesh 
that  is  now  the  spirit's  habitation  becomes  old  and  weak  or  is 
doing  its  work  ill,  the  worsliippers  of  the  god  facihtate  his  migra- 
tion by  the  destruction  of  his  temporary  tabernacle.  The  man- 
god,  in  fact,  may  be  killed  and  even  eaten  like  any  ordinary 
human  being.* 

^  For  instances,  see  Golden  Bough,  2nd  ed.  i.  139,  etc. 

3   Diodorus,  i.  70,  71. 

^  Jastrow,  Religion  of  Babylonia  and  Assyria,  pp.  375-378.  For  manj' 
similar  instances,  see  Golden  Bough,  i.  313,  314. 

*  See  Golden  Bough,  2nd  ed.  vol.  ii.  p.  6,  etc.  A  special  case  is  the  selec- 
tion of  a  prisoner,  criminal  or  slave,  to  act  as  the  incarnation  of  a  deity.  He 
then  becomes  a  temporary  man-god,  receives  honours  and  sacrifices,  and  is 
finally  slain  and  perhaps  eaten.  The  idea  is  apparently  to  strengthen  the 
spirit — who  is  here  some  nature-god — by  sacrifices,  perhaps  to  bind  him 
more  closely  to  his  worshippers  by  the  partaking  of  his  flesli,  and  finallj',  by 


THE  EARLY  PHASES  OF  THOUGHT  379 

This  unceremonious  treatment  of  the  object  of  worship  is 
partly  due  to  the  conception  that  the  body  in  which  the  spirit 
is  incarnate  is  not  the  spirit  itself.  But  the  condition  under 
which  alone  it  can  arise  is  that  the  object  of  a  religious  cult  is 
not  yet  an  object  of  worship  as  we  understand  the  term.  The 
spirit  of  the  sacred  animal  does  not  rise  above  the  animal.  The 
god  in  man  has  powers  which  ordinary  men  have  not,  but  he  is 
not  spiritually  (as  we  use  that  term)  a  higher  being.  The  spirits 
of  early  religion  may  be  abused  or  coerced  if  they  do  not  do 
their  duty.  The  Greek  youths  whipped  the  statue  of  Pan  if 
he  did  not  give  them  good  hunting.  The  Chinese  emperor  was 
supreme  over  all  spirits  except  that  of  heaven,  and  regularly 
promoted  or  degraded  them  in  rank  according  to  their  perform- 
ances.i  The  Ainu  abuse  their  household  gods  when  a  death 
occurs,  as  is  shown  in  a  vivid  description  by  Mr.  Batchelor  of 
the  scene  in  a  house  on  the  death  of  a  child. 

"  One  old  man  was  calling  on  the  goddess  of  Fire  to  help,  and 
threatening  never  to  worship  her  again  if  she  did  not  keep  warmth 
in  the  child's  body.  Another  person  was  looking  out  of  the  east 
window  and  accusing  the  goddess  of  Fire  to  the  Creator,  of  not 
attending  to  her  duty.  A  third  was  in  a  towering  rage,  and,  facing 
the  south-east  corner  of  the  hut,  was  telling  the  guardian  gods 
that  they  were  an  extremely  bad  lot,  and  deserved  never  to  be 
worshipped  again."  ^ 

It  is  not  necessary  to  multiply  instances.  The  quasi-material 
spirit  of  animistic  w^orship,  whether  incarnate  in  stocks  and 
stones,  in  trees,  animals  or  men,  or  roaming  disembodied  as  a 
ghost,  demon,  or  genius,  is  not  intrinsically  a  higher  being 
before  whom  man  must  prostrate  himself,  but  more  often,  if 
anything,  a  being  of  a  lower  order,  and  in  any  case  one  who  is 
to  be  managed  as  occasion  serves,  by  prayer,  entreaty,  deception, 
threats,  or  force  apphed  as  we  apply  them  to  actual  men  and 
animals,  so  that  when  one  fails  another  is  tried. 

Such,  then,  is  the  character  of  the  primitive  conception  of 
spirit.  In  its  most  definite  shape  it  is  a  double  of  the  common 
objects  of  perception,  conceived  on  the  one  hand  as  a  material 
substance  capable  of  exerting  force  and  having  force  applied  to 

slaying  him,  to  give  him  a  new  and  more  vigorous  life.  The  subject  is 
exhaustively  treated  by  Mr.  Frazer.  See  the  places  quoted,  and,  in  par- 
ticular, vol.  iii.  p.  13-4,  for  the  killing  of  the  god  in  Mexico. 

^  For  examples,  see  Douglas,  Society  in  China,  pp.  5-7.  The  honours 
paid  to  ancestors  for  the  exploits  of  their  descendants  depend  on  the  same 
conception,  since  it  is  the  business  of  an  ancestral  spirit  to  watch  over  his 
family  and  guard  its  fortunes. 

*  Batchelor,  The  Ainu  of  Japan,  p.  217. 


380  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

it,  and  on  the  other  hand  as  feehng  and  thinking  hke  a  rather 
stupid  man,  and  open,  hke  him,  to  supphcation,  exliortation,  or 
intimidation — a  standing  contradiction  in  which  the  categories 
of  mental  and  material  are  hopelessly  intertwined,  in  which  mere 
functions  and  quahties  become  substantial  beings,  and,  finally, 
by  a  crude  induction,  the  same  spiritual  agency  by  which  men 
explain  their  own  behaviour  and  that  of  their  fellows  is  imputed 
also  to  animals,  plants,  and  inanimate  fiature — to  the  wand  and 
waves — the  stocks  and  stones.  In  its  less  definite  shapes  these 
contradictions  do  not  appear.  But  that  is  not  because  they  have 
been  faced  and  surmounted,  but  rather  because  the  first  step  of 
distinctly  conceiving  the  elements  which  have  to  be  reconciled 
has  not  yet  been  taken. 

3.  One  way  of  treating  things  in  the  primitive  world,  then,  is 
to  act  as  if  they  were  ahve,  and  indeed  in  the  end  to  regard  them 
as  inhabited  by  spirits.  Another  way  is  to  treat  things  as  united 
by  certain  occult  connections — connections,  that  is,  which  are 
neither  apparent  to  the  senses  nor  legitimately  inferred  from  data 
of  sense,  and  yet  present  no  problem  to  primitive  man.  Such 
occult  connections  are  the  instruments  of  magic — not  magic 
itself,  but,  so  to  say,  the  materia  magica.  They  do  not  involve 
spirits,  and  in  using  them  the  magician  is  free  from  that  particular 
element  of  uncertainty  which  is  derived  from  the  caprice  of  any 
voluntary  agent .^  But  it  is  a  mistake  to  infer  that  they  imply 
any  theory  of  mechanical  causation  or  of  the  uniformity  of 
nature.  Strictly,  they  imply  no  theory  at  all  as  operating  in  the 
mind  of  primitive  man,  but  only  a  certain  way  of  forming  ideas 
or  of  guiding  action  in  the  service  of  practical  needs.  The 
anthropologist  can  analyze  out  the  principle  implied — that  is,  he 
can  formulate  a  law  of  causation  which,  if  true,  would  Justify 
the  procedure,  and  which,  being,  in  fact,  false,  renders  it  void. 
This  it  is  convenient  to  do  for  the  better  understanding  of  the 
matter,  and  we  shall  immediately  distinguish  such  laws.  But 
as  "  laws,"  it  cannot  be  too  clearly  understood,  these  are  the 
work,  not  of  the  primitive  magician,  but  of  the  anthropologist, 
and  they  are  of  use  only  to  exliibit  the  nature  of  the  confusion 
on  which  magic  rests. 

^  The  modern  theory  of  law  has  been  built  up  in  opposition  to  one  of 
causation  by  arbitrary  will.  Hence  it  is  natural  for  us  to  impute  notions — 
at  least  implicit  notions — of  law  to  any  theory  of  practice  which  dispenses 
with  will.  But  in  application  to  men  who  have  no  such  history  behind 
them  this  is  a  misleading  inference.  The  magical  process  has  no  automatic 
certainty.  This  is  proved  by  the  constant  piling  of  one  process  on  to 
another,  and  by  the  necessity  for  some  special  power  inherited  or  acquired 
in  the  magician  for  all  important  cases  (see  below,  p.  398). 


THE  EARLY  PHASES   OF  THOUGHT  381 

This  being  understood,  we  may  distinguish  three  main  "  prin- 
ciples "  or  laws  underlying  magical  processes.  We  have,  first, 
what  is  now  called  Contagious  Magic  .^ 

Its  principle  may  be  roughly  formulated,  "  What  is  done  to 
my  belongings  is  done  to  me  " — or  more  precisely,  if  two  things 
are  closely  connected  (as  e.  g.  by  being  parts  of  one  object)  they 
will,  even  when  dissevered,  remain  so  allied,  so  much  in  "  sym- 
pathy," that  to  affect  one  of  them  is  to  affect  the  other.^  The 
most  familiar  instance  is  the  use  of  hair-cHppings  and  nail-parings 
to  work  evil  on  the  man  to  whom  they  belonged.  Another  is  the 
practice  of  heating  a  weapon  which  has  made  a  wound  in  order 
that  the  wound  may  remain  inflamed,  or  conversely,  of  keeping 
the  weapon  clean  that  the  wound  may  not  fester.  A  third  is  to 
operate  on  the  food  left  by  a  man.^  A  fourth  is  to  attack  his 
shadow.  A  fifth  is  to  possess  his  name,  for  the  true  name  is  the 
man.  It  is  impossible  to  say  how  primitive  man  actually  con- 
ceives the  connection  in  these  cases,  for  it  is  of  the  essence  of  the 
matter  that  he  has  no  clear  conception  at  all.  But  if  we  analyze 
out  the  principle  impHed — that  is  to  say,  the  principle  wliich,  if  it 
were  true,  would  justify  the  procedure,  and  which,  being  in  fact 
false,  makes  the  procedure  void — it  is  this — that  the  continuous 
identity  which  once  connected  the  two  things  still  in  some  sort 
persists.  The  cfipped  hair  was  once  part  of  the  man  and  his 
identity  persists  in  it.  The  sword  and  the  wound  were  two 
aspects  of  the  same  fact  and  their  union  remains.  If  this  were 
true,  sympathetic  magic  would  be  a  genuine  art,  and  because  it 
is  not  true,  sympathetic  magic  is  a  spurious  art.  In  this  sense 
the  doctrine  of  a  persistent  unreal  identity  is  the  impHed  principle 
of  sympathetic  magic. 

A  second  form  of  magic  rests  on  another  distortion  of  the 
principle  of  identity.  If  you  cannot  get  hold  of  any  belongings 
of  your  enemy  you  can  at  least  make  a  likeness  of  him.  You 
may  destroy  him,  for  instance,  by  melting  or  sticking  pins  into 
a  wax  image  of  him.  With  very  different  intent,  though  by 
essentially  the  same  method,  primitive  people  in  many  parts  of 
the  world  seek  to  make  rain  by  squirting  water,  or  to  produce 
sunshine  by  kindling  fires,  or  fertility  by  a  representation  of  the 

1  Golden  Bough,  i.  52,  etc.  With  regard  to  this  name  it  m\ist  be  borne 
in  mind  that  in  the  cases  in  question  there  is  no  present  contact.  There 
has  been  contact  or  some  such  connection  in  the  past,  and  in  consequence 
an  occult  sympathy  remains.  Contagion,  in  the  more  ordinary  sense  of 
the  propagation  of  a  quality  from  one  thing  to  another  by  contact  or 
proximity,  appears  in  the  third  group  of  cases  distinguished  lower  down. 

2  See  Golden  Bough,  i.  9,  49. 

*  Or  an  excrement  (Spencer  and  Gillen,  I.  547). 


382  MORALS  IN   EVOLUTION 

processes  of  growth.^  Here  t^lie  implied  principle — understand- 
ing the  term  once  again  as  above — is  that  like  things  or  like 
processes  are  the  same.  In  making  rain  on  a  small  scale  we  are 
setting  up  a  process  which  extends  further  and  has  to  do  with 
the  production  of  rain  generally,  or,  at  any  rate,  on  a  greater 
scale.  In  slaying  one  bear,  again,  or  in  honouring  one  bear,  we 
are  slaying  or  honouring  Bear — the  bear  that  is  in  all  bears ; 
we  are  incurring  or  averting  a  feud  with  bears  in  general.  It 
will  help  us  to  understand  this  sort  of  identification  if  we  revert 
for  a  moment  to  the  creed  of  totemism,  the  idea  at  the  base  of 
wliich  is,  as  we  have  seen,  that  there  is  an  occult  connection 
between  an  animal  or  plant  and  the  human  beings  of  a  clan  or 
tribe,  such  that  what  they  act  or  perform  ceremonially  the 
totem  will  do  likewise  in  real  earnest.  The  totem  is  in  some 
sense — in  what  sense  they  certainly  could  not  tell,  and  if  we  try 
to  define  the  conception  we  shall  modify  it  by  the  very  process 
of  making  it  definite — but  it  is  in  some  sense  incarnate  in  them. 
The  Bear  is  in  all  bears,  all  four-footed  bears  and  all  human 
bears.  But  what  is  the  Bear  itself  ?  To  the  North  American 
Indian  it  is  often  a  Big  Brother  of  the  bears ;  another  individual, 
in  short,  and  sometliing  on  its  way  to  becoming  a  god.  But  in 
a  lower  stage  the  totem  has  no  need  of  so  much  individuality, 
for  the  savage  has  not  got  so  far  in  the  endeavour  to  think  out 
the  problem  of  Identity  in  Difference,  Every  individual  bear, 
two-footed  or  four-footed,  is  alike  the  Bear,  and  what  one  does 
or  suffers  all  do  or  suffer.  Further,  the  identity  may  be  fortified, 
as  it  were,  by  introducing  the  other  principle  of  connection. 
For,  since  things  that  are  once  joined  are  always  connected,  an 
exchange  of  blood  makes  two  men  brothers.  Joining  in  the 
same  meal  has  a  similar  effect,  and  therefore  what  one  suffers 
the  others,  too,  will  feel,  not  through  moral  sympathy  but  through 
a  purely  physical  causation.  Applying  this  to  the  totem,  how 
can  we  identify  ourselves  with  him  better  than  by  killing  him  ? 
We  eat  the  flesh  of  the  bear  and  the  Bear  is  within  us.  Yet  we 
have  not  injured  the  totem,  for  the  Bear  still  lives — in  other 
bears  and  in  us.  The  species  survives,  though  one  individual  is 
sacrificed. 

These  two  forms  of  magic,  distinguished  as  Contagious  and 
Homoeopathic,  are  grouped  together  as  Sympathetic.  That  is, 
they  both  depend  on  an  occult  Sympathy — in  other  words,  a 
very  crudely  conceived  identity  between  things  and  processes 

*  Cf.  the  symbolic  processes  combined  with  invitations  to  the  animal  in 
the  totemic  ceremonies  whereby  the  Australians  secure  a  full  supply  of  the 
VVitchetty  grub  (Spencer  and  Gillen,  I.  pp.  172  seq.  and  206). 


THE  EARLY  PHASES   OF  THOUGHT  383 

that  are  really  distinct.  The  third  set  of  magical  ideas  are 
simpler,  and  turn  on  a  primitive  conception  of  the  qualities  of 
things.  Powers  and  influences  exist  in  things,  and  are  the  basis 
of  their  qualities  and  behaviour.  Like  spirits,  thej^  are  separable 
from  the  things  to  which  they  belong.  They  can  be  withdrawn 
by  charms  ;  they  can  be  transferred  to  other  things.  A  barren 
fruit-tree  must  be  a  male.  A  woman's  petticoat  placed  upon  it 
transfers  to  it  the  feminine  quality,  and  it  becomes  fruitful. 
Chinese  people,  when  advancing  in  years,  have  their  grave- 
clothes  prepared  by  young  girls,  because  part  of  their  capacity 
to  live  long  must  pass  into  the  clothes  and  so  put  off  the  moment 
when  they  will  be  required.^  Conversely,  when  the  coffin  is 
being  nailed  down  the  hammer  is  bound  up  in  red  cloth  to 
prevent  bad  influences  passing  into  the  hand.^  Now  conceptions 
of  this  sort  seem,  in  the  first  place,  to  be  merely  generalizations, 
which  are  too  extensive  and  therefore  faulty,  from  an  ordinary 
experience.  Some  qualities  or  characteristics  of  things  are  in  a 
sense  transmissible.  Death  as  such  is  not  infectious,  but  small- 
pox is.  The  touch  of  a  pregnant  woman  will  not  impart  her 
fertihty,  but  her  warm  hand  will  impart  warmth.  But  there  is 
probably  a  little  more  in  the  matter  than  a  too  hasty  generahza- 
tion.  There  is  the  conception  of  a  quality  as  sometliing  quasi- 
substantial,  sometliing,  in  short,  bearing  a  family  resemblance 
to  the  spirit  from  wliich  we  have  to  distinguish  it.  When  sins 
are  loaded  upon  a  scapegoat  and  driven  away  into  the  wilder- 
ness, when  a  toothache  is  nailed  into  a  tree,  when  a  disease  is 
extracted  in  the  form  of  a  magic  stone,  or  passed  into  a  third 
person,  when  evil  influences  are  brushed  or  whipped  off  a  man — 
in  all  such  cases  the  quality  is  treated  as  something  that  you 
can  almost  pick  up  and  carry  about.  It  is  at  least  as  substa,ntial 
as  vapour,  and  in  some  cases  it  really  becomes  a  spirit.  When 
the  Melanesian  regards  a  stone  with  little  discs  in  it  as  "good 
to  bring  in  money,"  it  is  clearly  because  it  has  the  character 
of  money  stamped  upon  it.  But  this  character  they  ascribe 
themselves  to  an  indwelling  spirit  which  they  conciliate — the 
magical  quahty  passes  into  the  spiritual  .^  The  third  basis  of 
magic  may,  in  fact,  be  regarded  as  a  spirit  that  has  become 
attenuated  into  an  "influence,"  or  as  an  "influence  "  that  has 
not  developed  into  a  spirit.  It  thus  forms  a  connecting  link 
between  magic  and  animism. 

4.  The  other  two  forms  grouped  under  Sympathetic  Magic  in 
the  wider  sense  are  not  so  closely  connected  with  animism.     Yet 
I  De  Groot,  i.  60.  ^  ^-^^  p_  gg,  3  QoUen  Bough,  2nd  ed.  i.  45. 


384  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

they  belong  in  the  main  to  the  same  mental  level.  We  find  in 
the  primitive  mind  when  it  begins  to  theorize  two  tendencies 
which  may  be  regarded  as  in  a  measure  complementary.  On 
the  one  hand,  it  tends  to  take  the  characters  and  attributes  of 
things,  processes  that  go  on  in  things,  thoughts  about  things 
and  the  words  in  which  thoughts  are  expressed,  and  to  turn 
them  into  objects,  substantial  as  the  things  themselves,  having, 
in  fact,  a  mode  of  existence  very  like  the  things.  The  categories 
of  substance  and  attribute  are  not  yet  distinguished.  Of  this 
confusion  personification  is  merely  the  extreme  case,  the  living 
person  being  simply  the  most  concrete  and  many-sided  of  objects. 
In  this  tendency,  then,  we  have  the  basis  of  the  spirits  of  anim- 
ism and  the  occult  essences  and  powers  of  magic.  On  the  other 
side,  the  primitive  mind  equally  fails  to  keep  dififerent  objects 
distinct.  One  conception  melts  readily  into  another.  Just  as  in 
primitive  fancy  a  sorcerer  turns  into  a  dragon,  a  mouse,  a  stone, 
and  a  butterfly  without  the  smallest  difficulty.  Hence  similarity 
is  treated  as  if  it  were  physical  identity.  The  physical  indi- 
\aduahty  of  things  is  not  observed.  The  fact  that  a  thing  was 
mine  makes  it  appear  as  though  there  were  something  of  me 
in  it,  so  that  by  burning  it  you  make  me  smart.  The  borders 
and  limits  of  things  are  not  marked  out,  but  their  influence  and 
their  capacity  to  be  influenced  extends,  as  it  were,  in  a  misty 
halo  over  everything  connected  with  them  in  any  fashion.  Ji 
the  attributes  of  things  are  made  too  solid  and  material  in 
primitive  thought,  things  themselves  are  too  fluid  and  undefined, 
passing  into  each  other  by  loose  and  easy  identifications  which 
prevent  all  clear  and  crisp  distinctions  of  thought.  In  a  word, 
primitive  thought  has  not  yet  evolved  those  distinctions  of 
substance  and  attribute,  quahty  and  relation,  cause  and  effect, 
identity  and  difference,  which  are  the  common  property  of  civil- 
ized thought.  These  categories,  which  among  us  every  child 
soon  comes  to  distinguish  in  practice,^  are  for  primitive  thought 
undistinguished,  and  this  indistinctness  is  the  intellectual  basis 
of  animism  and  of  magic. 

This  indistinctness  finds  its  general  explanation  in  the  stage  of 
psychological  evolution  attained  by  primitive  man.  The  generic 
function  of  mind  in  life  is  to  estabhsh  articulate  coimections 
between  the  scattered  portions  of  experience,  and  so  enable  its 
possessors  to  learn  from  the  past  how  to  provide  for  the  future. 

'  I  do  not  mean  that  the  child  or  the  average  unthinking  man  is 
familiar  with  these  conceptions  in  the  abstract,  but  that  his  experience 
is  so  organized  under  the  influence  of  tradition,  especially  in  the 
form  of  language,  as  to  fall  with  general,  though  not  unvarying, 
correctness  into   the   pigeon-holes  to   which   these   terms  correspond. 


THE  EARLY  PHASES  OF  THOUGHT  385 

By  its  success  in  performing  that  function  the  stage  of  growth 
reached  by  the  mind  of  any  given  being  or  group  of  beings  is 
to  be  judged.     The  higher  animals  have  apparently  reached  so 
far  that  they  can  perceive  the  objects  that  surround  them  in 
their  temporal  and  spatial  order,  and  use  the  result  of  this  per- 
ception in  guiding  their  own  actions  so  as  to  produce  or  avert 
particular  effects.     If  this  is  so,  they  certainly  in  a  sense  appre- 
hend many  of  the  attributes,  actions  and  relations  of  things. 
In  some  sense  my  dog,  when  he  is  thirsty,  knows  that  there  is 
water  in  a  jug,  that  I  can  pour  it  out  for  him,  and  that  he  can 
get  me  to  do  so  by  attracting  my  attention  and  signifying  his 
wants.     That  is  to  say,  his  behaviour  is  adapted  to  the  presence 
around  him  of  certain  persons  and  things  with  given  attributes, 
related  in  a  particular  Avay,  acting  in  a  particular  way.     He 
knows  this  after  some  fashion,  but  we  do  not  take  it  to  be  pre- 
cisely man's  fashion.     Wliere,  then,  do  we  suppose  the  difference 
to  lie?     The  dog  can  in  some  way  differentiate  the   "soHd" 
jug  from  the  "liquid  "  water,  for  we  see  that  he  treats  them 
differently.     But  we  suppose  it  to  be  peculiar  to  the  man  that 
he  interests  himself  in  the  generic  qualities  in  point  of  which 
these  things  differ,  and  invents  for  them  the  names  "sohd" 
and  "  liquid."     To  discover  and  define  these  quahties  the  human 
mind  breaks  up  its  experiences  into  their  elements,  and  at  the 
same  time  and  in  the  same  process  brings  widely  separated 
experiences  together.     The  "solid,"  for  instance,  is  something 
common  to  the  jug,  the  house,  the  road,  and  distinct  from  the 
air  and  the  water,  distinct  also  from  the  shape  and  other  quaUties 
of  the  jug.      This  joint  movement  of  comparison  and  discrimi- 
nation breaks  up  the  perceptual  world  into  its  elements  and 
builds  up  out  of  them  an  order  of  ideas.     Every  such  idea  is 
expressed  in  a  general  term  or  name,  and  as  there  is  a  name  for 
each  thing,  so  there  is  a  way  of  expressing  each  of  its  functions, 
attributes,  relations.     Our  everyday  experience  thus  translated 
into  ideas  falls  into   certain  famihar  categories  —  Things  and 
their  Attributes,  Persons  and  their  Actions,  Functions,  Rela- 
tions, Substances,  Causes  and  Effects.     But  these  categories  do 
not  at  once  emerge  into  clear  consciousness.     The  mind  uses 
them  long  before  it  is  clearly  aware  of  them.     Or,  more  strictly, 
it  works  by  rules  corresponding  to  these  conceptions,  sorting 
experiences  in  a  manner  which  accords  with  them,  though  it 
knows  them  not.     It  recognizes  actual  substances  (stones,  hills, 
men,  horses)  and  their  attributes  or  actions  (hardness,  height, 
sagacity,  swift  movement)  before  it  has  ever  heard  of  Sub- 
stances or  Attributes  or  Relations  as  general  terms,  and  a  clear- 
cc 


386  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

headed  man  who  is  innocent  either  of  grammar  or  logic  may  yet 
move  among  the  objects  of  experience  without  confounding  any 
of  these  categories.  Thus,  below  the  stage  at  which  the  mind 
is  clearly  aware  of  the  elementary  conceptions  under  which 
rational  experience  is  ordered,  there  is  a  stage  where  it  works 
according  to  the  rules  to  wliich  these  conceptions,  when  known, 
are  found  to  lead,  though  \\ithout  consciousness  of  the  rules 
or  the  conceptions.  This  is  the  stage  of  "common  sense." 
But  below  "  common  sense,"  again,  is  a  stage  in  which  the  rules 
themselves  are  not  yet  efficient  in  their  operation,  at  which  the 
mind  is  not  only  unconscious  of  the  categories,  but  fails  practi- 
cally in  sorting  experiences  so  as  to  accord  with  them,  in  which 
objects  of  thought  belonging  to  different  categories  are  not  held 
apart  but  pass  into  each  other,  what  is  now  a  substance  becom- 
ing at  another  moment  a  relation,  while  a  relation  or  an  attribute 
becomes  a  substance,  or  one  relation  is  confounded  with  another. 
At  this  stage,  though  "  general  "  ideas  are  already  formed,  they 
are  loose  in  meaning  and  wavering  in  apphcation.  And  this  is 
the  natural  result  of  the  methods  by  which  they  are  formed. 
Developed  thought  knows  certain  rigorous  methods  of  induction 
from  experience,  as  well  as  certain  definite  principles  of  the 
analysis  and  synthesis  of  ideas  whereby  it  forms  new  concep- 
tions or  checks  those  that  it  has  formed.  Primitive  thought 
knows  nothing  of  such  safeguards.  In  the  lowest  strata  of 
thought-operations  we  form  ideas  by  casual  association,  drifting 
where  the  current  of  mental  tendency  leads  us,  for  the  most 
part,  under  the  spell  of  the  emotional  or  practical  interest. 
Instead  of  the  rigorous  analyses  and  constructions  of  the  logical 
mind  we  have  the  unregulated  movement — the  resultant  expres- 
sion, probably,  of  the  unsifted  mass  of  experience — carrying  us 
whithersoever  it  will.  As  to  the  test  of  experience,  if  used  at 
all,  it  is  apphed  in  the  form  in  which  any  chance  instance  that 
appears  to  confirm  the  mental  prepossession  is  taken  for  proof, 
and  if  an  instance  to  the  contrary  is  regarded  at  aU  it  is  merely 
as  the  starting-point  for  some  hypothesis  to  explain  it  away. 
Indeed,  the  bare  conception  of  truth  or  falsity  scarcely  exists. 
The  world  of  ideas  is  largely  a  world  of  make-believe.  If  the 
child's  doll  or  the  savage's  ghost  cannot  really  eat  the  food 
offered  them,  the  human  playmate  or  worshipper  is  quite  con- 
tent to  eat  them  himself  "  for  "  the  other.  The  ideas  make 
their  junction,  as  it  were,  in  their  own  world,  and  out  of  this 
the  child  savage  derives  the  mental  comfort  he  requires.  As  to 
stern  truth,  she  moves  in  a  cold,  hard  world  best  left  untrodden. 
In  a  word,  confusion  of  categories,  crude  induction,  uncritical 


THE  EARLY  PHASES   OF  THOUGHT  387 

reasoning,  and  childish  make-believe  go  to  determine  the  char- 
acter of  the  general  ideas  formed  in  the  lower  stages  of  human 
thought,  and  these  conditions  account  for  animism  and  magic. 

5.  The  Supernormal  and  Mysterious. 

For  us  the  distinction  of  the  natural  and  supernatural  is 
familiar  from  boyhood.  There  is  an  ordinary  course  of  things 
constituting  the  normal  hfe  of  man  and  the  regular  process  of 
the  world.  Above  and  beyond  it  is  God  in  his  heaven,  perhaps 
sustaining  it  all,  certainly  capable  of  intervening  and  altering 
it  as  he  chooses.  Philosophy  and  science  struggle  back  from 
this  duahsm  towards  the  idea  of  a  single  order,  but  for  early 
thought  the  clear  division  of  two  orders  had  not  arisen.  There 
was  no  supernatural  properly  so  called,  because  there  was  as 
yet  no  established  order  of  nature.  In  the  notion  of  the  spirit 
as  such  there  was  nothing  supernatural.  It  was  rather  the 
simplest  way  of  formulating  the  facts  of  hfe  and  death,  sleep 
and  dreams,  disease  and  recovery.  Nor  were  the  "  occult  "  con- 
nections of  magic  anything  out  of  the  way.  On  the  contrary, 
they  formed  themselves  spontaneously  on  the  line  of  least 
mental  resistance.  To  make  rain  by  squirting  water  was  not 
necessarily  to  call  supernatural  powers  into  play,  so  as  to  con- 
nect things  that  were  very  remote,  for  the  things  did  not  seem 
remote  but  almost  the  same.  Nevertheless,  for  primitive  as  for 
all  men,  there  is  a  deep  distinction  between  the  known  and  the 
unknown,  and  of  the  unknown  there  is  that  which  impresses 
primitive  man  as  abnormal,  strange  and  awesome,  gets  itself  a 
name,  and  figures  in  the  account  of  any  natural  event  that  is 
striking  or  terrifpng,  any  power,  personal  or  impersonal,  that  is 
extraordinary,  any  art  that  is  secret.  Tliis  power  may  attach 
to  the  skilled  magician,  and  explain  why  his  arts  succeed  while 
others  who  may  use  the  same  materia  magica  fail.  Thus,  the 
Melanesian  wizard  has  mana,  by  which  he  affects  things  at  a 
distance.  The  chief's  supremacy  in  the  same  region  is  due  to 
his  mana.  He  may  be  elected  because  he  has  mana  attributed 
to  him,  and  he  succeeds  to  his  office  because  mana  is  conferred 
on  him  by  the  imposition  of  hands,  Mana  once  acquired  is  a 
very  useful  possession.  Its  owner  may  pass  it  on  to  another. 
He  may  throw  it  into  a  material  object,  which  becomes  then  a 
source  of  danger.  He  may  use  it,  and  does  habitually  use  it, 
to  secure  his  property.  By  this  simple  means,  for  example,  he 
solves  the  problem  of  closing  a  pubhc  right  of  way  and  annexing 
it  himself.  If  the  taboo  is  broken  the  evil  consequences  are 
averted  by  a  present  to  the  man  who  put  it  on — the  human 


S88  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

spirit,  after  all,  controlling  the  magic  influences.  Spirits,  too, 
may  have  mana.  Indeed  a  regular  source  from  which  it  is  derived 
is  a  ghost  or  other  spirit,^  and  the  spirit  with  mana  is  super- 
normal in  power  and  mysterious  and  fearsome  in  action.  Thus 
the  spirit  that  has  mana  is  the  object  of  something  like  a  rehgious 
emotion,  which  does  not  pertain  to  spirit  as  such,  and  the  man 
who  can  put  mana  into  f  amihar  processes  and  make  them  preter- 
natural successfully  is  a  wizard.  Now  conceptions  analogous  to 
mana  are  widespread.  Thus  among  the  Sioux  peoples  every- 
thing mysterious  or  powerful  is  Wakan.^  The  Omaha  call  the 
Christian  God  Wakanda,^  the  sun  was  worshipped  as  Wakanda, 
the  Thunder-being  invoked  as  Wakanda.  The  sacred  pole  was 
"like  Wakanda," '^  Wakanda  hated  the  murderer,  and  even 
those  who  ate  with  him,^  and  the  issue  of  blood  pertained  to 
Wakanda.^  So,  again,  among  the  Iowa,  the  Sun  and  Wind  and 
Thunder-being  are  Wakantas,'  and  among  the  Dakota  and 
Assiniboin  all  life  and  everything  that  has  power  is  Wakan,*^ 
The  corresponding  terms  among  the  Algonquin  were  Oki  and 
Manitou,  and  among  the  Iroquois  Oki  and  Orenda.'  In  Negro 
Africa  we  find  among  the  Abatua  an  impersonal  evil  influence, 
Likundu.^"  A  man  has  Likundu  as  elsewhere  he  may  have  the 
evil  eye.  Among  the  Bambala,  if  a  man  is  fortunate  in  his 
enterprises,  if  many  of  his  enemies  die  or  are  ruined  without 
apparent  natural  cause,  he  has  a  powerful  Likundu,  a  quahty 
of  which  no  material  trace  can  be  found  at  his  death .^^  To  the 
Pygmy  a  mysterious  death,  a  strange  sound  by  night,  and  even 
an  accidental  injury,  are  all  "oudah."^^  Terms  such  as  these 
range  in  meaning  from  the  profoundest  mysteries  of  life  and 
death  to  the  triviahties  of  personal  luck  or  ill  fortune.  They 
give  a  name  and  a  local  habitation  in  the  world  to  the  unintelli- 
gible, the  unpredictable,  and  more  particularly  to  the  dreadful 

^  Codrington,  p.   118.     Conversely,  in  the  Solomon  Islands,  only  those 
who  possess  mana  become  worshipped  as  ghosts  (p.  125). 
«  Dorsey,  A  Study  of  Siouan  Cults  [R.  B.  E.,  xi.  366). 
^  ib.     The  application  seems  to  have  been  made  first  by  the  missionaries. 

*  ih.,  pp.  376,  382,  412. 

"*  Dorsey,  Omaha  Sociology,  R.  B.  E.,  iii.  369. 

*  Omaha  Sociology,  p.  267,  quoted  in  Marett's  Threshold  of  Religion,  p.  29. 
'  ib.,  p.  423,  424.  »  ib.,  p.  432. 

*  Brinton,  Mystery  of  the  New  World,  p.  45;  Hewitt,  Amer.  Anth.,  1902, 
p.  37;  Marett,  p.  130. 

*"  Monographies  Ethnographiques,  ed.  J.  Halkin,  i.  101. 

^^  The  imputation  may  be  dangerous  (Van  Overbergh,  Mono.  Ethnogr., 
i.  262).  The  author  thinks  the  power  may  be  represented  by  certain 
kinds  of  pebbles.  If  so,  it  resembles  the  Likundu  of  the  Mangbetu,  which 
is  strictly  a  pebble  "  dans  la  vessie  "  (ib.,  iv.  366). 

"  Marett,  Threshold  of  Religion,  p.  100. 


THE  EARLY  PHASES  OF  THOUGHT  389 

and  mysterious.^  The  mystery  may  be  magically  conceived — 
mana,  for  instance,  is  very  like  one  of  the  half -material  qualities 
of  magic — or  it  may  be  merely  named  and  felt  without  being 
further  defined.  But  in  any  case  here  is  an  expression  for 
the  emotions  of  awe  and  wonder  that  in  all  stages  contribute  to 
the  make-up  of  the  rehgious  consciousness.  The  recognition  of 
mystery  is  not  religion,  but  it  is  contributory  to  religion. 

6.  Myths,  Culture  Heroes,  and  Creators. 

Story -telling  is  an  art  which  primitive  man  enjoys  as  much 
as  his  civilized  fellows,  and  has  had  its  share  in  peopling  the 
world  with  spirits  and  heroes.  We  cannot  expect  to  trace  the 
origin  of  every  myth  in  detail,  for  we  cannot  set  bounds  to  human 
fancy.  We  can  only  see  in  general  how  the  tales  of  a  people 
reflect  the  general  character  of  their  ideas,  and  how,  accordingly, 
primitive  myths  are  full  of  magic  and  animism  and  mana,  and 
all  the  elements  of  primitive  thinking.  In  particular,  we  can  see 
that  an  early  method  of  explaining  facts  of  nature  or  customs 
of  man  is  that  of  telling  a  story  about  them  and  how  they  were 
set  going  in  the  past,  by  some  personage  of  the  by-gone  times. 
This  myth-making  is  in  full  vigour  among  the  rude  tribes  of 
Central  Austraha.  Why  has  the  Echidna  spines  upon  its  body  ? 
Because  in  the  Alcheringa  there  lived  an  Echidna  man  who  for 
an  outrage  on  sacred  ground  was  pierced  with  spears.  This  was 
the  destruction  of  the  man  himself  and  of  his  totem  kindred, 
who  have  never  since  been  re-incarnated  in  man  but  only  in 
Echidnas  T^dth  spears  sticking  out  of  them.^  It  is  characteristic 
of  these  tales  that  what  happens  once  happens  always.  The 
feature  which  an  animal  acquires  it  hands  on  for  ever  to  its 
whole  species.  In  fact,  the  "  principle  "  of  tale-telling  as  the 
explanation  of  natural  processes  seems  to  be  once  again  that 
slippery  identification  of  one  and  all  which  we  found  under- 
lying imitative  magic  and  totemism.  If  so,  the  primitive  myth, 
so  far  as  it  serves  a  purpose  in  primitive  rehgion,  still  rests  on 
confusions  analogous  to  those  already  examined.  It  also  im- 
plies that  capacity  for  freely  imaging  persons,  situations  and 
actions  on  the  analogy  of  experience  which  all  races  and  all 
levels  of  culture  share  alike.  By  virtue  of  his  myth -making, 
the  savage  can  people  the  world,  not  merely  with  spirits  and 
powers,  but  with  persons,  heroes  or  monsters  ^ith  a  definite 
character  and  a  history,  with  ^ives  and  children,  loves  and  hates, 

^  Marett,  op.  cit. ;  cp.  his  first  essay  entitled  "  Pre-animistic  Religion." 
*  Spencer  and  Gillen,  I.  398. 


390  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

wars  and  schemes  of  policy,  all  in  a  world  of  their  own  upon  the 
mountains,  beneath  the  earth,  or  in  the  sky. 

Where  the  mythical  being  comes  into  relation  with  the  origin 
and  life  of  nature  or  with  the  customs  and  destinies  of  man  he 
may  be  said  to  belong  to  religion,  and  in  quite  the  lowest  levels 
we  find,  in  fact,  creation  myths  connecting  the  origin  of  the 
world  with  mjiihical  beings  of  the  "  Great  Long- Ago."  For 
example,  the  Central  Australians  held  that  in  the  Alcheringa 
two  beings  arose  out  of  nothing  in  the  western  sky  and  carved 
men  out  of  imperfectly  shaped  creatures,  between  animals  and 
men.i  According  to  the  Kaitish  tribe  a  spirit -being  named 
Atnatu  arose  in  the  sky  before  the  Alcheringa,  He  made  him- 
self and  has  another  sky  and  sun  wdiich  are  not  ours.  The 
stars  are  his  lubras.  He  had  sons  and  daughters  in  the  sky, 
but  they  gave  him  no  Churinga,  so  he  threw  them  down  to 
earth.  He  is  angry  if  the  bull-roarer  is  not  sounded  at  the 
initiation  ceremonies,  and  once  dragged  a  number  of  boys  up 
into  the  sky  and  ate  one — but  the  flesh  was  not  good,^ 

Culture  and  creation  myths  are  common  throughout  Cali- 
fornia. In  the  North  we  have  culture  heroes.  In  the  Centre 
(which  includes  some  of  the  lowest  tribes)  we  have  mjrths  of 
the  creation  of  the  world  and  mankind,  and  it  is  said  that  a 
"lofty  conception"  of  the  Creator  is  sometimes  found,  though 
marred  by  the  figure  of  the  tricksy  Coyote,  who  half  assists  and 
half  thwarts  him.^  Among  the  Columbian  peoples  we  find 
"  transformers,"  who  are  responsible  for  the  existing  order  of 
things,  e.  g.  among  the  Nootka,  two  beings  descended  from 
heaven  and  transformed  semi-human  beings  into  men.*  Among 
the  Bella  Coola,  four  deities  help  the  raven  to  liberate  the  sun. 
One  of  them  made  man,  gave  him  the  arts,  and  still  adds  to  his 
favours,^  All  the  Coast  Salish  believe  that  the  Great  Trans- 
former will  some  day  descend  from  heaven  again  and  punish 
the  bad.®     In  South  America,  the   Paressi  hold  that  the  first 

1  Spencer  and  Gillen,  p.  388.  "  ib.,  ii.  498. 

^  Kroeber,  "Religion  of  the  Indians  of  California"  (Univ.  of  Calif. 
Pub.  Tr.),  p.  343.  In  the  northern  half  the  creator  is  anthropomorphic, 
or  if  not  is  imaged  in  the  Coyote.  In  the  southern  half  the  creators  are 
animals  with  the  eagle  as  chief.  In  southern  California  there  are  no  crea- 
tion-myths, but  tales  of  early  wanderings  and  the  founding  of  institutions. 
Professor  Kroeber's  account  does  not  altogether  agree  with  that  of  Powers, 
who  writes  that,  except  for  a  few  tribes  in  the  North,  "  I  am  thoroughly' 
convinced  that  the  Californian  Indians  had  no  conception  whatever  of  a 
supreme  being."  Their  real  belief  was  in  the  Coyoto,  while  the  Groat 
Man  or  Old  Man  above  was  a  mere  modern  graft  acquired  from  the  whites 
[Tribes  of  California,  p.  413). 

«  Boas,  B.  A.,  1890,  p.  696. 

»  t7).,  189],  p.  420.  6  ib.,  1890,  pp.  579,  580. 


THE  EARLY   PHASES   OF  THOUGHT  391 

woman  lived  in  a  kind  of  chaos.  Living  things  sprang  from 
her,  and  then  man,  and  finally — last  word  of  creation — the 
Paressi.^ 

7.  These  creation  myths,  running  down  as  they  do  to  the  lower 
strata  of  culture,  raise  at  once  the  question  whether  the  creators 
sliould  not  be  regarded  as  supreme  gods,  and  whether  such  a 
belief  is  an  integral  part  of  savage  religions.  Now  the  existence 
of  Great  and  Good  Spirits  is  certainly  reported  among  many 
primitive  peoples,  but  three  questions  have  to  be  settled  before 
we  can  determine  their  place  in  primitive  religion :  viz.  (1)  how 
far  are  these  reports  trustworthy,  (2)  how  far,  when  the  Good 
Spirit  really  exists,  is  it  an  importation  from  Christianity  or  some 
other  civilized  religion,  (3)  how  far  is  the  Grood  Spirit,  when 
recognized,  an  object  of  worship,  and  therefore  an  integral  part 
of  religion  ? 

The  savage  races  among  whom  Great  Spirits  are  principally 
found  or  supposed  to  be  found  are  the  Red  Lidians  and  the 
Austrahans.  Especial  stress  has  been  laid  by  some  writers  on 
the  case  of  the  Australians  on  account  of  their  extremely  low 
grade  of  development.  But  recent  research  seems  to  have  estab- 
lished definitely  that  at  least  among  a  large  proportion  of  the 
tribes  there  is  nothing  comparable  to  the  worship  of  a  divine 
creator  and  sustainer  of  all  things.  With  regard  to  the  natives 
of  Central  and  Northern  Australia,  Messrs.  Spencer  and  Gillen 
have  now  shown  that  while  the  Alcheringa  ancestors  had  super- 
human powers,  there  is  no  instance  of  any  being  regarded  as  a 
deity.  There  is  no  idea  of  appealing  to  them  for  protection  nor 
of  propitiating  them,  except  in  the  case  of  a  mjrthic  creature 
called  Wollunqua  among  the  Warramunga  tribe,  who  is  distinctly 
regarded,  not  as  human,  but  as  a  snake.  Further,  the  natives 
from  Lake  Eyre  to  the  far  north  and  east  to  the  Gulf  of  Car- 
pentaria "  have  no  idea  whatever  of  the  existence  of  any  supreme 
being  who  is  pleased  if  they  follow  a  certain  line  of  what  we 
call  moral  conduct,  and  displeased  if  they  do  not  do  so."  ^ 
Among  the  tribes  of  South-Eastern  Australia  religious  ideas  as 
well  as  social  customs  are  somewhat  more  advanced.  But  here 
again,  what  has  sometimes  been  taken  for  a  supreme  god  appears, 
when  the  evidence  is  put  together,  rather  as  a  "  venerable, 
kindly  headman  of  a  tribe,  full  of  knowledge  and  tribal  wisdom, 
and  all-powerful  in  magic,  of  which  he  is  the  source,  with  virtues, 

^  Von  der  Steinen,  Unter  den  Natur-Volkern  Central-Braziliens,  p.  437. 
Creation  myths  are  found  in  people  so  primitive  as  the  Semang  and  Sakai, 
but  the  theistic  element  is  thought  to  be  borrowed  (Martin,  p.  935). 

^  Spencer  and  Gillen,  II.  p.  491. 


392  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

failings,  and  passions  such  as  the  aborigines  regard  them."  ^ 
Once  a  chief  on  earth,  he  or  his  spirit  has  now  ascended  with 
his  people  to  the  sky  and  rules  them  there,  retaining  some 
measure  of  interest  in  the  doings  of  the  tribe  on  earth.  He  is, 
in  fact,  a  spirit  hke  the  other  spirits  of  men,  but  greater  and 
more  powerful.^ 

The  other  chief  group  of  primitive  people  who  have  been 
held  to  beheve  in  a  divine  creator  are  the  North  American 
Indians.  But  in  this  case  also  investigation  has  rendered  it 
probable  that  the  Great  Spirit  is  either  (1)  a  misunderstanding, 
or  (2)  borrowed  from  the  whites,  or  (3)  an  anthropomorphic 
nature-god.  The  Algonquin  term  for  spirit,  manitu,  had  a 
general  apphcation,  and  was  partly  misunderstood  by  mission- 
aries and  partly  used  by  them  as  a  stepping-stone  to  the  idea 
of  God.3 

The  Sioux  Wakan  and  the  Iroquois  Orenda  have  given  rise 
to  misapprehensions.  None  of  them,  as  we  have  seen  above, 
were  personal  terms.  A  god  might  be  Wakanda,  but  Wakanda 
was  not  a  god.*  Creation  myths,  however,  are  frequent.  The 
Sioux  story  of  the  creation  of  man  may  be  taken  as  a 
sample — 

"  Before  the  creation  of  man,  the  Great  Spirit  "  (whose  bird- 
like tracks  are  yet  to  be  seen)  "  used  to  slay  the  buffaloes  and 
eat  them  on  the  ledge  of  the  Red  Rocks.  .  .  One  day  when  a  large 
snake  had  crawled  into  the  nest  of  the  bird  to  eat  his  eggs,  one 
of  the  eggs  hatched  out  in  a  clap  of  thunder,  and  the  Great  Spirit 
catching  hold  of  a  piece  of  the  pipe-stone  to  throw  at  the  snake 
moulded  it  into  a  man.  This  man's  feet  grew  fast  in  the  ground, 
where  he  stood  for  many  ages  like  a  great  tree,  and  therefore  he 
grew  very  old  :  he  was  older  than  a  hundred  men  at  the  present 
day ;  and  at  last  another  tree  grew  up  by  the  side  of  him,  when 
a  large  snake  ate  them  off  both  at  the  roots,  and  they  wandered 
off  together;  from  these  have  sprung  all  the  people  that  now 
inhabit  the  earth."  ^ 

1  Howitt,  Native  Tribes  of  South-Eastern  Australia,  p.  500. 

^  Mr.  Howitt  does  not  regard  such  a  cult  as  equivalent  to  ancestor 
worship.  The  term  "  father  "  used  in  addressing  such  beings  expresses 
properly  a  tribal,  not  an  individual  relation,  and  towards  old  men  is  used 
a.s  a  term  of  respect  [ib.,  p.  507). 

3  Tylor,  J.  A.  I.,  xxi.  284-288.  Good  and  bad  spirits  are  often  found 
among  the  South  American  Indians  also,  but  accompanied  with  stories  of 
the  deluge,  the  creation  of  Eve,  etc.,  which  betray  their  origin. 

*  See  especially  Dorsey,  Siouan  Cults,  p.  365,  etc.  Two  Omahas  indeed 
said  that  their  ancestors  worshipped  a  supreme  Wakanda,  but  did  not 
know  how  or  where.     Cf.  Brinixjn,  Myths,  p.  48. 

'  Catlin,  North  American  Indians,  ii.  168. 


THE  EARLY  PEASES   OF  THOUGHT  393 

Here  the  Great  Spirit  is  conceived  in  bird  form  and  the  whole 
story  is  in  the  crudest  style  of  myth -ma  king.  In  other  cases 
the  Great  Spirit  is  merely  the  sun  or  spirit  of  the  sun — as  the 
following  hymn  shows — 

"  At  the  place  of  light, 
At  the  end  of  the  sky, 
I  (the  Great  Spirit), 
Come  and  hang.     Bright  Sign. 

I  am  the  living  body  of  the  Great  Spirit  above, 
(The  Great  Spirit,  the  Everlasting  Spirit  above). 

I  illumine  earth, 

I  illumine  heaven."  ^ 

Many  of  the  expressions  in  the  hymn,  taken  singly,  would 
appear  to  describe  a  supreme  spiritual  being  comparable  to  the 
God  of  civilized  rehgion,  but,  as  the  context  shows,  they  are,  in 
fact,  apphed  to  the  sun.  So  easy  is  it  for  one  form  of  reHgion 
to  use  for  its  purpose  the  terms  and  expressions  famihar  to 
another  of  quite  different  rank.  Mere  indistinctness  simulates 
unity  in  a  misleading  way.  The  Indian  spirits  are  so  little  indi- 
viduaHzed  that  they  all  seemed  one  to  the  inquirer.  The  marked 
individuahties  of  Polytheism  were  not  yet  attained — still  less 
were  they  overcome  and  merged  in  the  unity  of  a  single  divine 
nature  .2 

Lastly,  where  great  and  good  spirits  are  recognized  in  savage 
rehgion  we  constantly  find  that  they  are  in  practice  neglected 
for  the  active,  present,  and  possibly  dangerous  spirits  of  the 
immediate  surroundings  of  man.  The  evidence  on  this  point 
comes  from  all  parts  of  the  world.  The  good  spirits,  the  Algon- 
quin held,  could  only  do  good.     It  was  the  bad  ones  that  needed 

1  Schoolcraft,  i.  398. 

2  Cf.  De  la  Saussaye,  Manual  of  Religion,  vol.  i.  p.  273.  A  race  may 
recognize  one  god  because  it  has  not  imagination  enough  to  differentiate 
distinct  objects  and  functions,  or  because  it  has  attained  a  measure  of 
insight  into  the  umty  which  runs  through  all  differences  and  joins  divers 
parts  into  one  framework.  The  results  would  agree  on  one  point,  but  they 
would  belong  to  wholly  different  mental  grades.  Some  such  misconception 
perhaps  influences  Australian  travellers,  the  vague  statement  of  the  natives 
that  some  mystical  being  made  "  everything  "  being  taken  with  the  fulness 
of  connotation  which  the  word  possesses  for  the  civilized  mind.  The 
Australian  means  rather,  "  all  the  things  you  see  about  you  " — things 
generally,  without  any  precise  limit.  His  "  everything  "  is  a  more  vague 
generality,  and  the  creator  of  it  far  below  the  distinctly  individualized 
deity  of  Polytheism  with  a  definite  province  marked  out  for  him  (see 
Spencer  and  Gillen,  vol.  ii.  p.  492). 


394  MORALS  IN   EVOLUTION 

propitiation.*  The  Dakotahs  knew  little  about  what  the  Great 
Spirit  would  do.  All  the  fear  they  had  was  of  the  spirits  of  the 
departed.^  The  Caribs  recognized  a  higher  spirit,  but  paid  him 
no  honours.^  Of  a  supreme  spiritual  creator,  distinct  from  a 
natural  object  such  as  the  sun,  who  is  also  the  central  object 

1  Schoolcraft-Drake,  i.  162.  ^  Schoolcraft,  ii.  195. 

'  Waitz,  vol.  iii.  p.  385;  De  la  Saussaye,  vol.  i.  p.  262  (Negroes). 
Among  the  Ojibways  there  was  said  to  have  been  a  Great  Spirit,  but  he 
was  indifferent,  while  there  was  a  bad  spirit  and  innumerable  subject  spirits, 
and  especial  awe  of  the  thunder.  Among  the  Haida,  Harrison  {J.  A.  I., 
xxi.  15-17)  finds  a  good  and  bad  spirit  of  Light  and  Darkness,  but  the 
minor  deities  are  more  important.  Among  the  Western  D6n6  in  general 
there  was  no  supreme  being  (Hill-Tout,  Brit.  N.  America,  p.  166);  apart 
from  some  vague  idea  of  a  being  in  the  sky  who  caused  rain  and  whom 
they  did  not  worship,  but  had  to  appease  (Morice,  Proc.  Can.  Inst.,  vii.  157). 
Shamanism  and  totemism  were  the  working  beliefs  (Hill-Tout,  177,  178). 
The  Blackfeet  recognized  the  "  Old  Man  "  as  chief  god,  but  did  penances 
to  please  the  sun  (Griimell,  p.  258).  Among  the  Nootka  the  chief  may 
pray  to  the  deity,  ordinarily  they  address  themselves  to  the  sun  and  moon 
(Boas,  B.  A.,  1890,  p.  595).  The  Tsimshian  may  pray  to  heaven,  but 
ordinarily  address  a  Neqnoq,  which  means  anything  mysterious  from  the 
will  of  heaven  to  the  whistle  used  in  the  dances  (Boas,  B.  A.,  1899,  p.  846). 
The  Eastern  Den6  dimly  recognize  the  Great  Spirit,  but  he  has  no  influ- 
ence on  conduct,  while  nmnerous  minor  spirits  are  propitiated  (Ross,  Sm. 
Rep.,  1866,  p.  306).  The  Californians  recognize  an  Old  Man  above,  but 
the  coyote  is  the  most  useful  and  practical  deity  (Powers,  op.  cit.,  p.  413). 
The  Good  Spirit  of  the  Tehuelches  is  careless,  and  perhaps  of  Christian 
origin.  The  evil  spirits  are  propitiated  or  warded  off  by  shamans  (Musters, 
At  Home  with  the  Patagonians,  pp.  179,  180).  The  Araucanians  are  said 
by  D'Orbigny  (Voyage,  i.  37)  to  recognize  a  creator  without  worship- 
ping him,  but  according  to  Latcham  (J.  A.  I.,  xxxix.  346)  the  Thunder- 
God  is  their  chief  deity.  The  Puolches  (D'Orbigny,  ii.  270)  think  the 
Good  Spirit  needs  no  prayers,  but  an  evil  one  who  sends  disease  and  death 
can  be  evoked  by  shamans.  The  Chiriguanos  have  a  good  as  well  as  a 
bad  spirit,  but  no  cult  (Thouar,  Explorations,  pp.  47,  209).  The  Uaupes 
have  no  definite  idea  of  God,  but  propitiate  a  devil  (Wallace,  Amazon, 
p.  482  seq.).  In  British  Guiana  the  supposed  supreme  gods  are  rather 
the  tribal  ancestors.  Good  spirits  are  disregarded,  and  the  object  of 
ceremonies  is  to  avert  the  attention  of  evil  ones  (im  Thurm,  British 
Guiana,  pp.  366-368).  The  Aucas  are  said  to  recognize  a  good  creator,  who 
is  bound  to  give  them  all  they  want.  The  medicine  women  are  creations 
of  an  evil  spirit  (D'Orbigny,  II.  289).  Among  the  Indian  hill  tribes  the 
Angami  Nagas  have  a  vague  belief  in  a  supreme  being,  but  look  on  him 
as  too  great  and  good  to  injure  them  (Godden,  J.  A.  I.,  xxvii.  p.  30). 
The  Kukis,  according  to  Dalton,  recognize  a  supreme  God  who  is  man's 
judge,  but  he  mentions  sacrifices  to  the  evil  spirit  that  causes  diseases 
(Ethn.  of  Bengal,  p.  45).  The  Kasias  have  a  name  for  the  supreme  being, 
but  their  cult  is  concerned  with  spirits  (ib.,  p.  57).  To  the  Munda  Kol 
(Sellinghaus,  Z.  E.,  iii.  326  seq.)  attributes  "  childish  monotheism  and  a 
developed  behef  in  witchcraft  and  bad  spirits."  The  Oraons  have  a  supreme 
god  who  is  not  worshipped  (Dalton,  247  seq.).  Among  the  Sakai,  Semang 
and  Jakun,  the  working  cult  is  shamanism,  some  greater  spirits  being 
vaguely  known  (Skeat,  J.  A.  I.,  xxxii.  138).  The  Thado  clans  believe 
in  a  creator  who  takes  little  interest  in  them,  the  cult  of  lake,  wood  and 
river  spirits  being  the  more  important  (J.  Shakespear.  J.  A.  I.,  xxxix.  375). 
The    Singphos    admit  a    chief  spirit  who  existed   before   the  earth,  but 


THE  EARLY  PHASES  OF  THOUGHT  395 

of  worship,  I  have  found  no  recorded  case  in  the  uncivilized 
world. 

animism,  shamanism,  and  ancestor  worship  constitute  the  body  of  their 
cults  (WehrH,  /.  A.  E.,  xvi.  49). 

In  Africa,  the  idea  of  a  supreme  spirit  of  the  sky,  wielding  the  thunder 
and  giving  rain,  prevails  all  over  Congoland,  and  is  vaguely  held  even  by 
the  Pygmies  (Johnston,  G.  Orenfell  and  the  Congo,  pp.  632  seq.).  This 
deity  is  more  or  less  anthropomorphic  and  more  a  creator  than  an  ancestor, 
however  indilJerent  now  to  humanity.  Certainly  in  the  belief  of  many 
Congolese  he  is  too  far  off  to  care  for  man,  whom  he  created  but  left  to 
the  control  of  minor  spirits  (p.  636).  The  attributes  ascribed  to  him  by 
the  Baila  are  interesting  :  "  The  one  who  throws  down  for  himself  the 
imbula  first.  The  one  who  institutes  customs,  who  gives  gifts  and  rots 
them ;  who  rots  the  masako ;  the  creator,  the  sender  of  so  much  water 
that  there  is  no  place  left  dry,  the  giver  of  thunder  and  much  rain,  the  one 
who  does  what  no  other  can  do ;  that  all  things  are  his  and  he  can  do  as 
he  wishes."  The  Mayombe  recognize  the  existence  and  power  of  Zambi, 
but  do  not  invoke  him  because  he  represents  fatality  (Overbergh, 
Monogr.,  ii.  291);  possibly  Zambi  is  Wakanda  again  (cf.  p.  388).  Among 
the  Basonge  there  is  an  anthropomorphic  god,  who  is  all  powerful,  but 
as  he  lives  in  the  earth  it  is  useless  to  implore  him  (ib.,  Monogr.,  iii.  392). 
The  Mangbetu  have  a  vague  belief  in  a  supreme  being,  but  no  name  for 
him  except  Kiluma,  which  =  everything  they  do  not  understand.  The 
thunder,  however,  is  Kiluma  speaking  in  anger,  which  suggests  partial 
personification  (ib.,  Mongr.,  iv.  375).  Among  the  Melanesians,  Quat 
did  not  create  the  world,  but  formed  its  present  conditions  (somewhat 
aa  the  Columbian  transformers).  He  is  rather  a  hero  of  tales  than  a  lord 
of  spirits,  playful  and  full  of  magic  power  (Codrington,  pp.  162,  157, 
158). 

Traces  of  a  cult  in  connection  with  a  high  god  appear,  however,  in 
certain  instances.  In  Australia,  among  the  Euahlayi,  Mrs.  Parker  states 
that  prayers  for  souls  might  be  addressed  to  Baiame,  and  that  orphans 
could  pray  to  him  for  rain  (p.  8).  In  N.-W.  Central  Queensland,  magi- 
cians obtain  power  from  Mulkari,  a  beneficent  being  who  is  the  cause  of 
whatever  is  unaccountable  (and  thus  looks  a  little  like  Wakanda)  (W.  E. 
Roth,  p.  153).  The  Herbert  River  Kohin  is  a  warrior,  and  we  might 
regard  him  as  a  demon,  but  the  natives  look  on  him  as  a  father  and  he 
punishes  breaches  of  custom  (Howitt,  pp.  498,  499).  Summing  up  on 
the  "  tribal  all-father,"  who,  under  the  name  of  Daramulun,  Baiame,  etc., 
extends  over  the  S.-E.  of  Australia,  Howitt  writes  :  "  There  is  no  worship 
of  Daramulun,  but  the  dances  round  the  figure  of  clay  and  the  invocating 
of  his  name  by  the  medicine  men  certainly  might  have  led  up  to  it  "  (p.  507). 
On  the  Pacific  slope,  the  Kootenay  are  said  by  Chamberlain  (B.  A.,  1802) 
to  worship  the  sun  or  heaven,  while  the  Coast  Salish  worship  the  sun 
and  the  Great  Wanderer,  the  Kwakiutl  the  sun,  the  Thlinkeet  the  sun, 
mountains,  thunder,  the  killer  and  the  seal  (Boas,  B.  A.,  1891).  None 
of  these  seem  to  be  supreme  beings,  though  Chamberlain  finds  the  idea  of 
an  over-ruling  spirit  in  the  sun-worship  of  the  Kootenay.  The  Thompson 
Indians  believe  in  transformers,  especially  the  Old  Coyote,  but  it  is  not 
clear  whether  they  are  addressed  in  prayer  (Teit,  Jesup  Expedition, 
1900,  p.  337). 

Among  the  Indian  hill  peoples  the  Garo  recognize  and  have  a  priest- 
hood of  a  supreme  god  (Dalton,  p.  59).  The  Katodis,  a  nomadic  tribe 
or  caste,  are  said  to  pray  to  a  supreme  being  for  bodily  needs.  He  sends 
rain,  but  as  they  do  not  know  whether  he  creates  life,  his  position  cannot 
be  very  well  defined  (J.  Wilson,  J.  R.  A.  S.,  vii.  26).  The  Punanj  (a 
very  primitive  people)  pray  to  Bati  Penialong,  who  is  the  chief  god  of  the 


C96  MORALS  IN   EVOLUTION 

On  a  review  of  the  evidence  (the  heads  of  which  are  given  in 
note  3,  p.  394,  and  which  it  must  be  confessed,  is  often  vague, 
baffling,  and  even  contradictory)  the  most  reasonable  con- 
ckisions  are  as  follows  :  (1)  The  conception  of  a  creator  has 
arisen  apart  from  civilized  influences  among  some  peoples  even 
of  very  low  culture.  (2)  High  gods,  as  a  supreme  sun  or  sky 
god,  or  a  culture  hero  such  as  Baiame,  are  more  common,  and 
are  also  found  in  low  grades.  (3)  A  supreme  god  is  very  rarely 
the  object  of  a  cult,  but  "  high  gods  "  are  frequently  the  origin- 
ators of  custom  and  concerned  in  its  maintenance,  are  sometimes 
gods  of  the  dead,  and  are  occasionally  addressed  in  prayer.  To 
this  extent  we  must  qualify  the  generahzation  that  magic,  and 
some  form  of  animism,  animatism,  or  the  cult  of  the  dead  form 
the  working  creed  of  the  simpler  peoples. 

8.  We  have  now  before  us  in  outhne  the  principal  elements 
in  primitive  thought — what  may  be  called  the  materia  magica 
and  the  materia  divina,  the  separable  quasi -material  spirit,  the 
undifferentiated  "hfe  "  of  persons,  animals  and  things,  the  sur- 
viving spirit,  the  occult  sympathies,  transferable  quahties  and 

more  advanced  Kenyahs.  He  is  "  probably  conceived  anthropomorphi- 
cally,"  but  with  less  distinct  human  qualities  than  among  the  settled 
peoples.  Among  the  Kenyahs,  Hose  and  McDougall  think  that  Bati 
Penialong  was  originally  a  war  god  and  has  come  to  be  a  chief  among 
gods  {Pagan  Tribes  of  Borneo,  ii.  13,  186  seq.)-  In  E.  Africa  the  Nandi 
pray  and  sacrifice  to  the  sun,  whom  they  hold  to  be  the  creator  of 
man  and  beast  (Hollis,  p.  40). 

Here  and  there  the  dead  are  associated  with  a  spirit  who  may  perhaps 
be  thought  of  as  a  high  god.  Among  the  Mycoolon  of  Queensland,  the 
dead  climb  eventually  to  the  sky,  where  they  are  looked  after  by  a  spirit 
(E.  Palmer,  J.  A.  I.,  xiii.  291).  Among  the  Gournditch  Mara,  according 
to  Stable,  in  the  place  to  which  a  good  departed  might  go  there  was  a 
man  who  took  care  of  the  wofld  (Kamilaroi  and  Kumai,  Appendix  F). 
Among  the  Larrakeah,  Foelsche  describes  a  very  good  man  living  in  the 
sky,  who  made  all  things  excepting  the  black  fellows,  while  another  good 
man  lives  in  the  earth  and  made  the  first  black,  and  is  said  to  judge 
them.  On  the  Namoi  and  Barwin  Rivers,  one  account  is  that  the  good  or, 
perhaps,  all  the  dead  go  to  Baiame,  others  say  that  they  become  birds 
(Ridley,  J.  A.  I.,  ii.  269).  Among  the  Yuin,  the  soul,  or  shadow,  goes  to 
Daramulun  (Howitt,  p.  495).  The  Ngarigo  thought  that  the  dead  were 
taken  care  of  by  Daramuhrn  (Howitt,  p.  437).  In  the  Maryborough 
tribes  a  being  called  Birrai  directs  the  good  among  the  dead,  including 
good  hunters  and  warriors,  to  the  island  where  they  are  to  dwell,  but 
little  seems  to  be  known  of  this  spirit  (Howitt,  p.  498).  In  N.  America 
the  Pawnees  were  created  by  Ti-ra-wa  and  will  live  with  him  after  death 
(Grinnell,  Pawnee  Stories,  354).  In  Brazil,  among  the  Jumanas,  there  is 
a  good  spirit  who  eats  with  the  soul  after  death  and  takes  it  to  himself 
(von  Martins,  p.  485).  In  New  Guinea,  among  the  Xorthern  Massim, 
the  dead  go  to  an  imderground  place  presided  over  by  Topilita,  a  man 
with  huge  flapping  ears,  who  first  sent  men  with  their  totem  animals  into 
the  upper  world.  He  lives  like  an  ordinary  chief,  but  has  magic  powers 
and  can  cause  earthquakes  (Seligmann,  Melanesians  of  New  Guinea,  733). 


THE  EARLY  PHASES   OF  THOUGHT  397 

influences  by  which  the  changes  of  the  world  and  the  chances 
of  life  are  affected,  the  Mysterious  that  surrounds  man  and  with 
which  any  notable  fact  or  object  may  be  invested,  and  finally, 
the  imagery  ^ith  which  the  play  of  fancy  may  populate  the 
world.  None  of  these  things  are  by  themselves  a  rehgion,  or 
a  magic,  or  a  philosophy.  They  are  the  elements  or  material 
out  of  which  early  man  forms  a  religious  cult  or  a  magic  art. 
How  does  he  do  this  ?  To  answer  this  question  we  must  first 
define  rehgion  and  magic. 

We  may  remark  first,  that,  however  distinct  in  idea,  animism 
and  magic  find,  especially  in  primitive  times,  many  points  of 
contact.  Totemism  is  one  instance,  for,  as  has  been  pointed 
out,  the  bond  of  union  which  makes  the  totem  one  with  its 
human  worshippers,  or  rather  fellows  and  allies,  is  of  magical 
character,  while  the  totem  itself  is  often  a  spirit  or  perhaps  even 
a  god.  Again,  the  magic  power  may  come  from  and  be  con- 
trolled by  a  man.  Thus  the  whole  object  of  Melanesian  cults  is 
to  obtain  and  use  mana.  A  dangerous  magical  influence,  again, 
may  emanate  directly  from  a  deity.  Thus,  when  Uzzah  touches 
the  Ark  he  is  immediately  struck  dead,  not  because  he  did 
anything  wrong,  for  his  intention  was  absolutely  innocent,  but 
because  Yahveh  "  broke  forth  "  upon  him.  The  Ark,  being  the 
habitation  of  Yahveh,  was  intrinsically  dangerous,  just  like  a 
highly  electrified  body.^  Animism  creates  spirits  of  the  dead, 
but  the  operation  of  these  spirits  and  of  death  in  general  is 
conceived  in  terms  of  magic.  The  mourner  who  may  be  haunted 
by  the  dead  is  infected  by  their  danger  and  has  to  seclude  himself, 
and  this,  rather  than  the  desire  of  supplying  the  deceased  with 
comforts,  is  on  some  occasions  probably  the  true  explanation  of 
the  destruction  of  the  dead  man's  property  and  of  the  mourning 
imposed  upon  his  widow.  Again,  a  magic  influence  may  become 
a  spirit.  The  curse  which  the  evil-doer  brings  upon  himself  may 
be  conceived  magically,  or  it  may  pass  into  a  spirit  which  haunts 
the  man ;  or  finally,  by  a  union  of  both  ideas,  it  may  be  an  evil 
which  the  spirit  inflicts  upon  the  man.^ 

But  this  only  shows  that  the  material  of  magic  and  animism 
can  be  combined  or  interwoven.  What  is  magic  in  itseK,  and 
what  is  rehgion  ?  Magic  is  not  the  behef  in  occult  influences, 
homoeopathic  actions  and  so  forth,  it  is  an  art  whereby  men 
seek  to  attain  ends  by  the  use  of  occult  influences.     When  these 

1  This  magical  conception  seems  at  least  to  underlie  the  anthropo- 
morphic account  in  2  Sam.  vi.  7  seq. 

*  See  some  remarks  bv  the  present  writer  in  Sociological  Papers,  vol.  ii. 
p.  172. 


398  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

influences  are  thought  of  as  mysterious  or  act  in  a  supernormal 
way,  it  is  itself  an  occult  art,  the  peculiar  property  of  a  magician, 
or  a  god,  or  a  ghost.  Thus,  the  magical  art  that  the  common 
man  may  use  rests  on  connections  which  present  no  difficulty 
to  the  savage  mind  though  much  to  a  mind  infected  by  common- 
sense  distinctions.  The  magic  of  magicians  or  spirits  rests  on 
similar  influences  raised  to  a  higher  power  by  mana  or  wakanda.^ 
Magic  as  such  has  nothing  to  do  with  rehgion  except  (1)  that  it 
moves  in  a  supersensible  world ;  (2)  that  it  is  an  effort  to  get  on 
terms  with  the  world,  and  as  such  provides  an  outlet  for  emotion 
and  a  confidence  in  success  which  are  of  real  psychological 
efficiency.  Generally,  magic  is  the  control  of  occult  forces  for 
human  ends,  the  occult  being,  as  defined  above,  that  which  is 
neither  apparent  to  the  senses  nor  legitimately  inferred  from  the 
sensible.  These  forces  may  include  spirits,  ghosts,  demons,  even 
deities,  but  the  test  of  magic  always  is  that  the  spirit  is  subservient, 
not  the  magician.  Moreover,  the  means  which  render  the  spirit 
subservient  are  themselves  non-spiritual — spells,  incantations, 
the  use  of  sacred  names,  homoeopathy  or  infection.  We  should 
not,  therefore,  be  wrong  if  we  supplemented  the  definition  by 
introducing  the  contrast  with  the  spiritual,  and  described  magic 
as  the  use  of  non-spiritual  occult  forces  for  human  ends,  under- 
standing that  one  of  the  apphcations  of  these  forces  might  be 
to  control  spiritual  beings.  We  may  add  that  as  resting  on  the 
occult  in  the  sense  defined,  as  wrapping  itself  in  mystery  rather 
than  seeking  its  explication,  magic  is  not  akin  but  opposed  to 
science.^ 

Religion  is  also  an  effort  on  the  part  of  man  to  get  on  terms 
with  the  world,  but  its  path  lies  through  the  conception  of  man 
as  a  spiritual  being,  member  of  a  spiritual  order,  wliich  gives 
meaning  to  his  life,  direction  to  his  conduct,  fortitude  and 
consolation  in  the  life-tragedy.  Generally,  religion  is  the  service 
of  the  spiritual  order,  and  its  development  consists  in  the  pro- 
gressive apprehension  of  the  spiritual,  an  apprehension  which  is 
never  merely  intellectual,  but  which  is  permanently  based  on 
an  emotional  and  practical  response.  In  its  essence  the  spiritual 
is  the  impulse  to  harmony  which,  as  contrasted  with  inanimate 

1  I  follow  Dr.  Jevons,  therefore,  in  holding  that  magic  essentially 
implies  a  magician  (Sociological  Review,  1908,  p.  112.  Cf.  Wundt, 
Vdlkerpsychologie,  Book  IV.  pp.  262-285). 

^  When  a  Melanesian  tests  the  reputed  mana  of  a  stone  by  examining 
whether  it  makes  the  plants  grow  (Codrington,  p.  119),  he  is,  so  far,  intro- 
ducing the  common-sense  touchstone  of  experience  which  is  the  rudiment 
of  science,  but  in  the  same  degree  he  is  rising  above  the  magical  plane  of 
thought. 


THE  EARLY   PHASES  OF  THOUGHT  399 

matter  makes  for  life,  as  contrasted  with  the  inertia  of  the  vital 
mechanism  impels  to  fuller  realization  and  the  development  of 
higher  faculties,  as  contrasted  with  the  dumb-driven  impulse 
inspires  the  articulate  creative  purpose,  as  contrasted  with  the  in- 
different self-centred  individual  reveals  comprehensive  unity  of 
aim  and  regenerates  the  life  of  the  part  Avith  the  consciousness  of 
the  whole.  The  conception  grows  by  antithesis  to  the  mechanical. 
But  in  its  first  phases  this  antithesis  is  not  formed.  Inanimate 
things,  animals,  and  human  beings  are  not  clearly  differentiated, 
and  while  the  spirit  begins  to  be  thought  of  as  that  which  gives 
life,  it  is  conceived  as  that  half -material  entity  which  has  been 
called  the  double.  It  is  a  step  in  advance  when  the  spiritual 
being  is  endowed  with  a  distinct  and  concrete  personality,  for 
personality  is  a  feature  of  the  life  of  spirit.  It  is  a  higher  stage 
again  when  God  is  defined  as  a  spirit  pure  and  simple,  when  God, 
in  fact,  becomes  the  incarnation  of  all  that  is  understood  of  the 
spiritual  order,  or  when,  as  in  non-theistic  forms  of  religion, 
the  spiritual  order  is  conceived  as  that  which  guides  and  gives 
meaning  to  the  life  of  man. 

In  this  development  the  driving  forces  are  in  a  sense  the 
same  throughout,  except  that  man's  conception  of  the  spiritual 
becomes  clearer  and  his  emotional  response  changes  its  char- 
acter accordingly.  If  we  ask  how  iAie  development  begins,  we 
cannot  obtain  a  certain  answer  because  we  do  not  know  the 
character  of  really  primitive  belief,  and  we  can  reply  only  by 
comparing  what  is  actually  known  or  probably  reported  of  very 
simple  folk,  and  by  considering  the  results  in  the  light  of  human 
nature  and  the  ways  of  uncritical  thought.  We  have  found 
many  elements  contributory  to  religion,  none  of  wliich  is  in  itself 
a  religion.  For  religion,  resting  in  services,  must  be  taken  at 
this  early  stage  to  imply  a  cult,  but  the  sense  of  mystery  is  not 
a  cult,  the  behef  in  a  double  or  in  the  spirit  of  a  rock  is  not  a 
cult,  the  fear  of  the  dead  is  not  a  cult,  a  tale  of  creation  even 
by  an  anthropomorphic  being  is  not  a  cult.  All  these,  however, 
are  materials  from  which  a  cult  may  arise,  and  in  particular 
their  combination  might  give  rise  to  a  true  religion.  It  is  quite 
possible  that  in  different  parts  of  the  ea*th  they  came  together 
in  different  ways,  and  there  may  have  been  instances  in  which 
the  vague  Wakanda  took  spiritual  form  and  so  constituted  a 
single  high  God,  a  spirit  viewed  with  awe,  giving  rise  to  worship, 
before  minor  spirits  were  formed.  But  the  evidence  as  a  whole 
suggests  a  different  direction  for  the  normal  line  of  movement, 
and  brings  us  by  a  roundabout  road  very  near  to  an  old-fashioned 
theory.     Among  the  lowest  savages  we  find  a  fearr  of  the  dead 


400  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

expressed  in  the  abandonment  of  the  corpse  and  place  of  death 
and  the  destruction  of  the  personal  belongings.  In  this  fear 
there  is  no  element  of  rehgion,  though  it  may  very  readily  (with 
or  without  the  aid  of  dream  forms)  engender  a  behef  in  a  sur- 
vi\ang  spirit.  But  sometimes,  as  among  the  Veddas,  we  find 
this  avoidance  qualified  by  offerings  of  rice  and  milk  to  the 
yaka  or  spirits  of  the  dead,  and  among  the  Yaka  we  find  one 
Kande  Yaka,  the  spirit  of  a  great  hunter  who  died  long  ago, 
who  is  invoked  at  the  offerings  of  the  dead  and  to  whom,  some 
say,  spirits  have  to  apply  for  leave  to  obtain  offerings  and  help 
their  relatives.  Primarily  an  assistant  in  hunting,  he  becomes 
lord  of  the  dead,  and  he  was,  our  authors  think,  a  real  man 
whose  cult,  on  account  of  his  quahties,  continued  longer  than 
usual  .^  If  Kande  Yaka  were  but  associated  with  certain 
tribal  customs,  he  would  become  a  Baiame  and  a  culture 
hero. 

Now  the  dead  are  feared  but  they  are  also  revered  and  loved, 
feared  as  associated  with  the  final  terror,  loved  becai?se  death 
obliterates  faults,  and  memory  is  a  regret  .^  As  the  kindlier 
feehng  predominates  and  subdues  fear  to  awe,  emotion  prompts 
the  well-knowTi  acts  of  affection  and  homage,  the  gift  of  food 
and  raiment,  the  adornment  and  decency  of  bestowal  wliich  we, 
no  less  than  the  savage,  feel  the  necessary  due.  We  would  still 
give  our  tribute  to  the  dead  though  we  know  it  to  be  useless, 
because  the  giving  is  the  natural  discharge  of  the  emotion  wliich 
dominates  us.  Early  man,  begimiing  with  the  emotion  and 
proceeding  to  the  gift  or  the  service,  presently  asks  himself  for 
a  reason  for  what  he  is  doing,  and  answers  himself  that  the 
dead  are  there  and  are  gratified.  Here  is  the  emotional  basis 
of  a  behef  which  the  uncritical  judgment  readily  accepts,  and 
the  cult  acquires  a  definite  meaning  and  purpose.  Considering 
the  ubiquity  of  the  forms  of  burial  practice,  shading  from  fear 
and  avoidance  into  reverent  attention  and  service,  we  may 
reasonably  suppose  this  to  be  the  normal  form  of  that  which 
may  fairly  be  called  religious  behef  and  practice  in  early  society. 
At  the  same  time,  the  fear  and  regard  for  natural  objects, 
prompting  men  to  treat  them  as  alive  and  so  to  think  that  they 
are  ahve,  may  develop  side  by  side  and  emerge  into  the  behef  of 
spiritual  beings  whose  good-will  must  be  gained  if  man  is  to  be 
safe.    These  are  the  two  forms  of  true  cult  that  we  find  prevalent 

1  Seligmann,  The  Veddas,  pp.  122,  125,  127,  131,  141. 

*  These  emotional  suggestions  are  overlooked  by  Durkheim  when  hs 
finds  nothing  "  sacred  "  in  the  double  in  the  mere  fact  that  it  is  disin- 
carnated  {Formea  dldtnentaires  de  la  vie  religieuse,  p.  87,  etc.). 


THE  EARLY  PHASES   OF  THOUGHT  401 

among  the  simplest  peoples.^  In  either  case  we  inquirers  ex- 
jDress  the  matter  logically  as  a  belief  in  spirits,  on  which  certain 
practices  are  based,  around  which  certain  emotions  cluster. 
But  psychology  suggests  that,  to  picture  the  historical  develop- 
ment aright,  we  should  reverse  the  order — that  there  was  first 
the  emotion,  love  and  awe,  fear  or  gratitude,  or  the  supplicatory 
tension  of  hope  and  anxiety ;  that  these  expressed  themselves 
in  such  acts  as  we  perform  when  so  moved  towards  human 
beings,  and  that  these  acts,  operating  in  the  mental  twilight  of 
indistinct  categories,  engendered  the  notion  of  spirit  as  that 
which  is  human  and  non-human,  animate  yet  inanimate,  intelli- 
gent yet  insensate,  vitalizing  body  but  itself  body.  This  spirit, 
moreover,  is  the  culmination  of  the  first  stage  of  development, 
other  forms  of  early  behef  only  escaping  similar  contradictions 
because  they  lack  definiteness  of  conception  altogether.  Anim- 
ism, on  this  view,  is  justly  regarded  as  the  first  definite  form  of 
rehgion,  animism  meaning  the  cult  of  spirits  without  the  appre- 
hension of  spirituality,  and  being  regarded  as  the  outcome  of 
an  earlier  stage  in  which  elements  and  forms  of  religion  are 
active  but  not  rehgion  itself.  Within  animism  it  is  probable 
that  the  cult  of  the  dead  normally  occupied  the  first  place  in 
time  as  it  retains  a  foremost  position  in  importance.  On  the 
other  hand,  animism  is  not  the  beginning  but  the  end  of  a  stage 
in  development,  and  it  is  not  the  theory  of  spirits  which  gives 

^  Wiiether  totemism  should  be  included  in  this  stage  of  religious  develop- 
ment is  a  question  partly  of  fact,  partly  of  definition,  and  in  both  relations 
difficult  to  determine.  Professor  Durkheim,  defining  religion  by  reference 
to  the  sacred,  does  not  separate  it  generally  from  magic.  For  whatever 
is  mysterious,  be  it  spiritual  or  not,  may  be  the  object  of  observances  to 
mark  it  off  from  the  common,  i.  e.  the  profane.  Now  totemism  rests  on 
an  identification  of  persons  with  animals  or  other  non-htiman  things 
which  is  essentially  of  magic  character,  and  many  of  its  observances  seem 
to  be  true  magic — e.  g.  methods  of  securing  a  supply  of  the  totem  object 
for  food.  To  Professor  Durkheim  it  is  a  religion  because  the  object  is 
sacred.  For  our  definition  it  would  not  be  a  religion  because  the  object 
is  not  a  spirit  nor  the  observance  a  cult.  But  Professor  Durkheim  wovild 
maintain  that  the  totem  is  the  symbol  of  the  unity  of  a  social  group,  and 
this  is,  for  him,  the  real  basis  of  its  sanctity.  This,  he  might  say,  is  on 
our  definition  an  essentially  spiritual  principle,  and  on  this  ground  we 
should  admit  totemism  as  a  religion  even  for  us.  On  the  other  side,  it 
may  be  m-ged  that  the  feature  of  totemism  is  that  the  social  unity  is 
not  spiritually  but  magically  conceived.  It  is  rather  a  body  of  magical 
practice  containing  cortain  ethical  or  even  religious  elements — "  materia 
divina  " — than  itself  a  religion. 

We  speak,  of  coT.irse,  of  totemism  in  an  elementary  form.  The  totem 
animal  may  become  an  object  of  reverence  or  worship,  as  in  some  North 
American  cases.  But  then  we  are  at  once  in  full  blown  animatism,  if  not 
animism  in  the  stricter  sense.  The  development,  however,  serves  to  show 
how  the  magic  identification  of  the  human  and  non-human  may  serve 
as  one  path  to  the  belief  in  spirits  of  the  inanimate  world. 
DD 


402  MORALS  IN  Es^OLUTlON 

rise  to  a  cult,  but  more  truly  the  cult,  itself  engendered  by 
emotion,  which  creates  the  theory. 

9.  ReUgion  makes  its  first  step  in  advance  when  it  recognizes 
gods  who  stand  above  the  animate  spirit.  The  difference  be- 
tween a  spirit  and  a  god  is  easier  to  feel  than  to  define,  but  we 
may  perhaps  say  that  a  god  is  a  spirit  endowed  with  a  distinct 
personality  and  the  object  of  a  cult,^  as  exercising  certain  super- 
human functions  in  nature  or  human  fife.  Thus,  the  ordinary 
dead  are  not  gods,  for  though  they  have  quasi -magical  powers 
they  are  not  superhuman ;  rather  they  are  dependent  on  men 
for  food  and  offerings.  They  have  no  personality  other  than 
that  wliich  they  really  possessed  in  life,  and  this  tends  to  fade 
away  into  the  spirit  shadowland  ;  they  perform  no  function  other 
than  that  of  helping  their  relations,  which  any  man  might  do. 
A  distinguished  ancestor,  a  hero  raised  above  the  ruck,  on  the 
contrary,  is  on  the  way  to  be  a  god.  Baiame  and  Daramulun, 
whether  heroes  or  incarnations  of  the  bull-roarer,  are  of  this  class. 
They  look  after  the  dead,  they  instituted  custom  and  are  con- 
cerned for  its  maintenance,  and  when  they  are  also  prayed  to 
they  must  be  held  to  have  become  gods.  One  avenue  to  the 
divine,  then,  is  through  the  hero  cult.  Another  is  through  the 
nature  spirit.  Here  we  get  the  clue  if  we  turn  back  in  mind  to 
the  ambiguities  which  we  find  at  a  stratum  of  thought  wliich 
is  a  little  bit  above  the  lowest,  between  the  indwelling  spirit 
and  a  spirit  which  directs  or  governs  an  object  in  which  it  dwells 
no  longer.  Often  these  are  ambiguities  which,  from  the  nature 
of  the  case,  it  is  not  possible  for  the  civiHzed  investigator  to  re- 
solve. The  spirit  which  dwells  in  an  object  but  wliich  can  leave 
it  and  enter  another,  may  clearly  pass  by  easy  transitions  into 
a  spirit  which  does  not  necessarily  dwell  in  any  object  at  all, 
but  haunts  it,  or  even,  ceasing  to  haunt  it,  retains  control  over 
it.  On  the  West  Coast  of  Africa,  Captain  Ellis  associates  the 
transition  with  the  rise  of  images.  The  Tshi,  for  the  most  part, 
recognize  indwelling  spirits,  but  when  they  make  an  image  of 
the  spirit,  which  must  in  the  early  stages  be  made  of  a  fragment 
of  the  thing  in  which  the  spirit  dwells,  the  tie  between  spirit 
and  thing  is  weakened.  In  fact,  it  is  clear  that,  to  dwell  both 
in  the  image  and  in  the  thing,  the  spirit  must  be  in  both  places 
at  once.  In  reahty  he  becomes  most  identified  with  his  place 
of  worship,  and  so  becomes  the  tutelary  deity  of  the  village  in 
wliich  his  shrine  is  placed,  and  this  is,  says  Captain  Ellis,  the 

1  Or  at  least  one  of  a  class  which  in  the  same  society  are  the  object  of 
cults.  We  should  not  deny  the  title  to  Olorun  (see  below,  p.  403)  bec*>""" 
he  is  not  himself  worshipped. 


THE  EARLY   PHASES   OF  THOUGHT  403 

highest  stage  reached  among  the  Tshi,  where  most  of  the  gods 
worshipped  are  the  simply  indwelhng  spirits  of  prominent  natural 
objects  in  the  neighbourhood.  The  ghost-gods,  who  were  origin- 
ally human  spirits,  have  a  separate  origin  but  similar  history. 
The  skull  is  brought  into  the  temple,  and  so  imparts  a  guardian 
ghost.  Many  such  ghosts,  again,  become  tutelary  deities  and 
are  often  blended  with  nature  deities. ^ 

But  the  neighbouring  and  more  advanced  Yoruba-speaking 
peoples  have  greater  gods  than  these.  They  have  replaced  the 
local  gods  to  a  large  extent  by  the  gods  of  the  whole  people,  and 
these  are  the  gods  who  personify  or  direct  the  great  natural  forces. 
They  are  distinctly  separate  from  the  natural  objects  wliich  they, 
or  some  of  them,  represent ;  and  here  we  sometimes  seem  to  see 
the  transition  going  on  before  our  eyes.  Thus  the  great  god, 
Olorun,  is  described  as  the  Deified  Firmament  or  Personal  Sky. 
He  is  an  old  god,  and  he  is  too  distant  and  lazy  to  interfere  in  the 
world's  affairs,  and  for  this  reason  he  has  dropped  out  of  worship. 
It  is  to  be  observed  that  this  sphere  is  strictly  limited ;  he  only 
controls  the  sky.  "  A  man,"  runs  one  of  their  proverbs,  "cannot 
cause  rain  to  fall,  and  Olorun  cannot  give  you  a  child."  Olorun 
made  Obatala,  who  is  also  the  god  of  the  sky  and  of  the  earth  as 
well ;  but  he  is  an  anthropomorphic  god ;  he  made  the  first  man 
and  woman,  he  creates  each  new-born  child ;  he  causes  deformi- 
ties as  a  punishment  for  neglect,  and  he  has  an  oracle  by  wliicii 
the  guilt  of  accused  people  is  decided.  Similarly,  a  minor 
god,  Olokun,  is  not  the  Sea  regarded  as  a  hving  being,  but  an 
anthropomorphic  deity  who  controls  the  sea.^ 

The  greater  gods,  then,  are  conceived  as  human,  and  as  being 
distinct  from  that  wliich  they  control  and  out  of  which  the  con- 
ception of  them  is  evolved.  As  Sir  J.  Frazer  points  out,  when  the 
tree  ceases  to  be  the  body  of  the  tree -spirit,  and  becomes  simply 
its  abode,  the  tree  becomes  "  merely  a  lifeless  inert  mass,"  while 
the  spirit  tends  to  assume  the  body  of  a  man,  and  ceasing  "  to  be 
a  tree-soul,  becomes  a  forest-god."  ^  And  just  as  spirits  dwelHng 
in  trees  are  replaced  by  a  god  on  whom  the  life  of  trees  depends, 
so  the  spirits  who  dwell  in  water  give  place  to  a  lord  of  the  sea, 
and  the  divine  sky  to  a  god  who  directs  rain  and  snow,  thunder 
and  lightning,  a  king  who  reigns  over  skyland.  Thus,  in  Greek 
religion,  the  worship  of  Ouranos  dies  away  and  yields  to  that  of 
Zeus.^    A  place  is,  indeed,  found  for  the  discarded  Ouranos  in 

^  A.  B.  Ellis,  The  Yoruba-speaking  Peoples,  pp.  276-284. 

^  ih.,  34-70.  '  Frazer,  i.  188.     Numerous  illustrations  are  subjoined. 

*  I  am  assuming  the  truth  of  the  common  view  that  Zeus  himself  was 
originally  the  sky,  though  from  Mr.  Farnell's  account  (Cults  of  the  Greek 
i^tates,  vol.  i.  chap,  iv.)  this  would  seem  not  quite  so  clear.     In  Arcadia 


404  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

the  theogonies  which  now  become  a  feature  of  religious  life. 
For  the  anthropomorpliism  of  wliich  the  rudiments  have  already 
been  noted  in  savage  myth-making  now  receives  a  great  ex- 
tension. The  genealogies,  the  births  and  marriages  of  the  gods, 
their  loves  and  hates,  their  deeds  of  prow'ess,  are  drawn  out  with 
exuberant  fancy.  Often,  as  we  know,  the  gods  retain  traces  of 
their  lowly  origin  ;  they  are  associated  with  the  animals  or  spots 
or  other  natural  objects  from  which  they  were  originally  derived. 
Hence  the  hawk-headed  or  ibis -headed  gods  of  Egypt,  hence  the 
animals  sacred  to  gods,  the  clean  and  the  unclean ;  hence  many 
a  practice  explained  mythically,  but  in  its  origin  simply  a  piece 
of  magic  or  animism.^  But  though  the  gods  retain  traces,  more 
or  less  marked  as  the  case  may  be,  of  their  not  too  honourable 
descent,  they  become,  as  the  religious  life  advances,  more  and 
more  distinctively  human,  and  in  becoming  human  they  also 
become  superhuman.  They  are  endowed  at  least  with  larger 
powers,  with  longer  life,  or  with  immortahty,  and  in  many  cases 
also  with  physical,  mental,  and  moral  attributes  of  wliich  more 
will  be  said  later. 

This  beginning  of  ideaUsm  must  be  regarded  as  the  final  con- 
dition which  the  spirit  must  fulfil  in  order  to  become  a  god.    The 


he  was  the  thunder,  i.  e.  the  thunder  itself  was  the  god  (p.  45).  At  Olympia 
Zeis  Karai^drris,  Zeus  as  descending  in  the  thunder,  is  worshipped  (p.  46). 
But  in  ^schylus  Karat^dr-qs  is  the  epithet,  not  of  Zeus  himself,  but  of  the 
thunder  (see  e.  g.  Prometheus  Vinctus),  and  the  thunder  is  not  Zeus,  but  hiH 
"  sleepless  dart."  Observe  the  three  stages  here.  In  the  first  Zeus  is  the 
thunder.  In  the  third  he  is  a  personal  god  who  wields  it.  In  the  second 
he  is  in  an  ambiguous  condition,  descending  in  the  thunder,  yet  seemingly 
more  than  the  thunder  itself — the  descent  is  one  of  his  epithets,  or,  as 
Oriental  thought  might  conceive  it,  one  of  his  incarnations.  The  thunder 
itself  is  also  animated  in  ^schylus,  "  sleepless  "  and  "  breathing  flame," 
but  we  are  to  take  this  as  conscious  poetry,  not  as  simple  animism.  Wliat- 
ever  the  truth  as  to  the  original  nature  of  Zeus,  this  development  may  stand 
as  typical  of  the  transition  from  animism  to  Polytheism. 

In  Latin  the  use  of  Jupiter  for  the  sky  persists  in  literature  of  the  classical 
period  {sub  Jove  jrigido).  But  in  fact  it  seems  very  doubtful  whether  the 
native  Roman  religion  ever  rose  above  the  conception  of  spirits  presid- 
ing over  places,  persons,  and  especially  functions  (Wissowa,  Religion 
und  Kultus  der  Romer,  especially  pp.  20-28,  and  Saussaye,  Lehrbuch  der 
Religionsgeschichte,  vol.  ii.  p.  203,  "  Die  romische  Religion  steckte 
noch  tief  in  Animismus  ").  The  anthropomorphic  impulse  came  from  the 
Greeks. 

^  Sir  J.  Frazer  even  says  {Golden  Bough,  vol.  ii.  p.  167)  that  "  we  may  con- 
jecture that  whenever  a  god  is  described  as  the  eater  of  a  particular  animal, 
the  animal  in  question  was  originally  nothing  but  the  god  himself."  In 
any  case  the  association  till  recently  so  unintelligible  of  an  anthropomorphic 
god  with  animals,  plants,  stones,  and  generally  with  quasi-fetich  objects  and 
savage  rites,  is  now  explained  as  referable,  with  very  high  probability,  to  a 
form  of  religious  conservatism — an  old  rite  being  maintained  in  association 
with  the  worship  of  a  new  god. 


THE  EARLY  PHASES  OF  THOUGHT  405 

gods  ot  Polytheism  are  great  gods,  and  often  have  troops  of  spirits 
in  subservience  to  them.  The  typical  relation  indeed  is,  as  Comte 
long  ago  pointed  out,  comparable  to  that  between  a  species  and 
an  individual.  The  spirit  of  a  tree  strictly  regarded  is  limited  to 
that  tree  and  functions  only  in  this  spot.  A  tree-god  controls  all 
trees.  Similarly  all  the  great  gods  control  either  large  provinces 
of  nature — sea,  earth,  sky  (Zeus,  Poseidon,  Hades),  or  are  pro- 
tectors of  the  people,  national  gods  (Yahveh,  Ashur,  Athene), 
or  preside  over  one  or  more  of  the  main  human  functions  (Ares, 
Aphrodite).  Thus  in  the  conceptions  underlying  them  there  are 
beginnings  of  a  higher  unity,  an  approach  to  order  in  the  rehgious 
basis  of  life,  which  is  carried  further  as  by  the  anthropomorphiz- 
ing genealogies  and  hierarchies  the  many  gods  are  brought  into 
subjection  to  one  father  and  ruler  of  all.^ 

The  gods,  then,  as  opposed  to  the  spirits,  are  clearly  distinct 
from  the  natural  objects  which  they  govern,  or  the  functions 
which  they  direct.  They  are  anthropomorphic,  and  so  tend  to 
be  connected  by  family  and  political  relationships.  They  control 
the  great  powers  of  nature  and  the  main  functions  of  life.  And 
while  human  they  are  also  superhuman,  and  at  their  best  lend 
themselves  to  ideal  forms  of  beauty  and  of  ethical  thought. 

10,  If  Animism  is  the  typical  religion  of  savagery,  the  cult  of 
the  greater  gods  has  its  central  point  in  the  earlier  civilizations. 
Yet  to  describe  the  rehgion  of  these  civilizations  would  not  be  to 
describe  pol3i}heism.  We  have  defined  polytheism  by  marking 
it  out  sharply  from  animism  on  the  one  side,  and  (by  implication, 
from  monotheism  on  the  other.  But  in  the  concrete  develop- 
ment of  rehgious  history  these  demarcations  are  precisely  what 
we  do  not  find.  The  religion  of  the  early  civilizations  is  a  mass 
of  conceptions  in  which,  around  the  figures  of  the  greater  gods, 
a  surge  of  primitive  animistic  and  magic  practices  rises  and  falls, 

^  Inasmuch  as  the  gods  have  personalities  which  have  hardened 
into  concrete  individuals  sharply  opposed  to  one  another,  it  might 
seem  rather  that  polytheism  has  carried  us  farther  away  than  animism 
from  the  unity  of  nature,  and  that  where  (as  in  the  indigenous 
Chinese  religion)  we  have  one  supreme  spirit  of  the  sky  and  one  of 
the  earth,  we  are  nearer  to  unity.  But  that  is  misleading.  Such 
unity  as  we  find  in  animism  is  the  unity  of  a  blur,  the  unity  which 
precedes  differentiation.  The  Chinese  religion  —  an  exceptional 
survival  of  animism  in  a  high  but  very  conservative  civilization — 
no  doubt  arrives  at  a  systematization  in  which  something  like  the 
hierarchy  of  Polytheism  is  reproduced ;  but,  if  I  understand  it  aright, 
in  a  much  less  articulate  fashion.  What,  e.  g.  is  the  relation  between 
the  earth  spirit  and  the  countless  spirits  of  hills,  groves,  rivers,  etCj 
upon  the  earth  ?  To  this  polytheism  would  have  a  definite  answec. 
They  would  be  subjects,  or  daughters,  of  the  earth-mother. 


406  MORA<Lli:    IN  EVOLUTION 

while  here  and  there,  thiGUj'^h  the  obscurity,  there  dimly  looms 
the  outline  of  a  higher  principle. 

Thus,  to  confine  ourselves  to  the  two  most  ancient  civiHzations, 
we  have  in  Babylonia  and  Egypt,  amid  much  that  is  obscure, 
fairly  typical  examples  of  the  stage  of  polytheism  in  which  the 
animistic  foundation  is  plainly  visible,  in  which  magic  still  plays 
an  important  part,  in  wliich  the  conception  of  godhead  retains 
plentiful  traces  of  its  lowly  origin,  while,  on  the  other  hand,  there 
are  the  beginnings  evident  of  the  stage  of  thought  which  was 
destined  to  supersede  polytheism.  These  rehgions,  in  fact,  have 
their  centre  of  gravity  in  the  polytheistic  phase,  while  they  put 
out  ramifications  into  the  phases  below  and  above. 

"  The  greater  gods  of  the  Egyptian  pantheon  are,  as  they  stand 
in  the  liistorical  period,  impersonations  of  the  greater  forces 
that  surrounded  the  Egyptian  and  controlled  his  life — the  sky, 
the  earth,  the  stars,  the  sun,  the  Nile."  ^  In  its  early  phases  the 
religious  development  seems  to  have  proceeded  independently 
but  on  parallel  lines  in  the  partially  independent  nomes  or  dis- 
tricts into  which  Egypt  was  divided.  Each  of  these  originally 
had  its  chief  god,  who  very  often  personified  the  same  natural 
attributes  under  a  different  name.  In  particular,  "wherever 
there  is  some  important  change  in  the  river  (Nile),  there  they 
(these  incarnations  of  the  river)  are  more  especially  installed 
and  worshipped."  ^ 

The  result  of  this  multiplicity,  as  the  different  cults  came  into 
relation  to  each  other,  was  a  mythology  of  luxuriant  confusions 
and  inconsistencies,  which  led  the  Egyptian  priesthood  to  at- 
tempt a  remarkable  solution.  To  this  we  shall  have  to  refer  a 
little  later.  But  let  us  first  notice  that  these  greater  gods  are 
in  all  probabihty  not  the  primary  deities  of  the  Egjrptian  rehgion, 
which  has  its  roots  rather  in  primitive  animism.  The  associa- 
tion of  many  of  the  Egyptian  gods  with  a  special  sacred  animal 
has  from  the  days  of  the  Greek  travellers  down  to  the  presenv- 
generation  been  a  puzzle  of  the  greatest  difficulty.  Further 
research  into  the  earliest  Egyptian  monuments  coincides  with 
the  results  drawn  from  comparative  religion  in  making  it  prob- 
able that  the  animal  is  not  the  secondary  figure  in  the  cull,  but, 
at  least  in  point  of  tiuxt,  .nC  primary.  The  Egyptians  had  an 
animistic  religion  before  they  worsliipped  the  greater  gods  Osiris 
and  Ptah.  The  hawk-headed  figure  of  Horus  represents  pic- 
torially  a  combination  between  the  worship  of  the  sun-god  and 

^  Maspero,  The  Dawn  of  Civilization,  85-86.     Isis  of  Buto  denoted 
the  black  vegetable  mould  of  the  valley  (ib.,  99). 
"  Maspero,  99. 


THE  EARLY  PHASES  OF  THOUGHT  407 

the  earlier  worship  of  the  hawk  itself.  Tho  worship  of  Sekhet 
in  the  form  of  a  cat-headed  or  lion-headed  woman,  again,  blends 
an  anthropomorphic  cult  with  the  more  primitive  :tdoration 
of  the  cat  tribe.  Like  other  people  in  the  animistic  stage,  in 
short,  the  early  Egyptians  worshipped  animals  and  other  natural 
objects,  while  the  later  Egyptians  tended  to  conceive  of  the 
deities  as  anthropomorphic,  superhuman  spirits,  and  the  his- 
torical Egyptian  rehgion  or  mythology  was  a  compromise  or 
blending  of  the  lower  and  the  higher.  Even  the  greater  gods 
retained  many  traces  of  their  animistic  origin.  The  Egyptian 
deities,  though  great  spirits,  are  by  no  means  necessarily  eman- 
cipated from  either  the  weaknesses  or  the  wickednesses  of  man.^ 
They  have  their  wives — not  only  goddesses,  but  harems  of  mortal 
women,  priestesses  of  the  temples.  Not  only  do  they  marry 
and  are  given  in  marriage,  but  they  die  like  men  and  require 
burial.  Like  men  they  have  a  composite  nature,  consisting  of 
aoul  and  body.  The  soul  might  be  an  insect,  a  bird,  a  shadow, 
or  a  double — Ka — and  this  latter  was  not  essentially  different 
from  the  Ka  of  man.  Gods,  in  fact,  Avere  virtually  conceived  as 
men  in  their  essential  nature,  having  bones,  flesh  and  blood,  and 
a  mysterious  fluid,  Sa,  the  source  of  vigour,  with  which  they 
could  impregnate  man.^  The  dead  god,  like  the  dead  man,  re- 
quired food  and  a  house — his  temple.  Indeed,  he  could  do  with 
many  temples,  dividing  his  double  among  them  in  accordance 
with  the  accommodating  looseness  of  texture  which  that  entity 
everywhere  enjoys.  He  might  be  incorporated  in  a  statue  or 
in  a  sacred  animal.*''  Some  gods  remained  the  same  after 
death,  as  Osiris ;  others  changed  their  names  and  perhaps  their 
character.     Maspero  writes — 

"  Their  doubles,  like  those  of  men,  both  dreaded  and  regretted 
the  light.  All  sentiment  was  extinguished  by  the  hunger  from 
which  they  sufl^ered,  and  gods  who  were  noted  for  their  com- 
passionate kindness  when  alive,  because  pitiless  and  ferocious 
tyrants  in  the  tomb.  When  once  men  were  bidden  to  the  pre- 
sence of  Sokaris,  Khontamentit,  or  even  of  Osiris,  '  mortals  come 
terrifying  their  hearts  with  fear  of  the  god,  and  none  dareth  to 
look  him  in  the  face  either  among  gods  or  men ;  for  him  the  great 
are  as  the  small.  He  spareth  not  those  who  love  him ;  he  beareth 
away  the  child  from  its  mother,  and  the  old  man  who  walketh 
en  his  way;  full  of  fear,  all  creatures  make  supplication  before 
him,  but  he  turneth  not  his  face  towards  them.'  Only  by  the 
unfailing  payment  of  tribute,  and  by  feeding  him  as  though  ho 

i  Maspero,  p.  126.  '  ib.,  108-110.  =>  i&.,  116-110. 


408  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

were  a  simple  human  double,  could  living  or  dead  escape  the 
consequences  of  his  furious  temper."  .  .  . 

All  offerings  to  the  dead  were  presented  to  him — 

"  He  was  humbly  prayed  to  transmit  them  to  such  or  such  a 
double,  whose  name  and  parentage  were  pointed  out  to  him. 
He  took  possession  of  them,  kept  part  for  his  own  use,  and  of  his 
bounty  gave  the  remainder  to  its  destined  recipient."  ^ 

In  Egypt,  as  among  other  primitive  peoples,  "  men  did  not 
die.  They  were  assassinated."  The  murderer  might  belong 
to  their  world  and  be  recognized  as  another  man,  an  animal, 
an  inanimate  object.  Or  he  might  be  a  spirit,  a  god,  demon,  or 
disembodied  soul.^  At  least  in  the  earher  period  some  of  the 
gods  were  cannibals.  Sahu,  i.  e.  Orion,  is  represented  on  the 
P3rramid  of  Unas  in  the  sixth  dynasty  as  a  hunter.  He  hunted 
the  gods,  killed  and  devoured  them,  and  by  so  doing,  in  ac- 
cordance with  true  cannibal  theory,  assimilated  their  virtues,^ 
But  what  is  even  more  remarkable,  a  man  might  do  the  same 
thing,  and,  by  so  doing,  obtain  control  over  the  divinity. 
King  Unas,  in  his  address  to  the  deities  of  the  dead,  boasts  that 
the  gods  have  been  lassoed  for  Unas  by  one  poAver,  brought 
towards  him  by  another.  "  Shosmu  has  cut  them  up  for  Unas 
and  had  the  pieces  cooked  in  broihng  cauldrons.  It  is  Unas  who 
devours  their  magical  virtues  and  eats  their  souls,  and  the  great 
ones  among  them  are  for  Unas'  feast  in  the  morning,  the  middle 
ones  among  them,  male  and  female,  are  for  his  roast  meat,  the 
small  ones  for  his  evening  meal.  The  old  ones,  male  and  female, 
are  for  his  furnace."  Again,  "  the  inliabitants  of  the  sky  are 
made  his  servants,  and  the  limbs  of  their  womenkind  are  thro"VMi 
into  the  cauldrons.  Unas  has  taken  the  hearts  of  the  gods,  has 
devoured  the  red  crown,  has  eaten  the  white.  His  victuals  are 
those  whose  magic  virtues  are  nourished  on  hearts,  he  has  eaten  the 
■wdsdom  of  every  god."*  It  is  to  us  a  little  bizarre  for  a  man  to  re- 
commend himself  to  the  heavenly  host  on  the  ground  that  he  has 
eaten  them,  but  the  animistic  view  of  nature,  with  its  spirits,  that 
are  at  once  immaterial  and  material,  that  can  live  by  perishing, 
that  may  nourish  man  yet  exist  apart  from  him,  which  are  more 
powerful  than  he  and  yet  controllable  by  him,  solves  all  these 
contradictions.  Unas  controls  the  gods  because  he  has  possessed 
himseK  of  their  virtues  bj^  eating  them.  Isis  obtained  control 
over  Re  in  his  decrepit  old  age  by  steahng  his  name,  by  the  know-^ 

1  Maspero,  117-118.  -  ib.,  111. 

'  Maspero,  The  Dawn  of  Civilization,  97,  98. 
^  Maspero,  Recueil  de  Travaux,  p.  59  ff. 


THE  EARLY  PHASES  OF  THOUGHT     401^ 

ledge  of  which  she  had  over  him  a  magical  control.  In  the  same 
way  men  could  control  the  gods  by  magical  incantations,  the 
use  of  wax  effigies,  etc.^  Tliis  is  in  line  with  the  lowest  ideas  of 
witchcraft.  Side  by  side  with  it  we  find  the  typical  conceptions 
of  anthropomorpliic  religion,  e.  g.  sacrifice  as  a  contract  between 
deity  and  worshipper.  The  god  liimself  prescribes  the  details, 
and  of  course  undertakes  to  fulfil  his  side  of  the  bargain.  He 
abohshes  human  sacrifice,  declaring  that  he  will  be  satisfied  with 
an  animal.  But  he  is  still  a  stickler  for  form.  Any  error  of 
detail  would  void  the  contract,  and  this  is  all  to  the  good  of  the 
priestly  order. 

But  if  on  its  lower  side  the  Egyptian  religion  is  thus  rooted  in 
animism  and  magic,  if  the  gods  figure  almost  as  demons  who 
destroy  men,  and  are  responsible  for  such  deaths  as  cannot  be 
assigned  to  obvious  physical  causes,  if  they  have  human  con- 
cubines and  can  be  controlled  by  magic — on  its  other  side  the 
esoteric  philosophy  of  the  priests  tends  to  transcend  polytheism, 
and  to  conceive  the  ultimate  unity  of  the  Divine.  The  very 
multiplicity  of  gods — especially  of  gods  with  similar  functions 
and  differing  only  in  name — was  a  stimulus  to  thought,  and 
called  for  some  theory  to  explain  so  bewildering  a  confusion. 
As  the  unity  of  Egyptian  culture  grew,  the  separate  nome-gods 
were  necessarily  united  in  one  pantheon.  In  each  nome  a  local 
trinity  or  triad  was  found,  the  nome-god  being  associated  some- 
times vnih.  wife  and  son,  sometimes  Avith  two  goddesses,  "who 
were  at  once  his  sisters  and  his  wives  according  to  the  national 
custom."  2  Whether  deliberately  introduced  for  the  purpose 
or  not,  the  system  of  triads  had  the  effect  of  reconcihng  the 
supremacy  of  the  old  nome-gods  in  each  locahty  with  a  recog- 
nition of  gods  originating  in  other  parts.  The  god  who  was 
supreme  in  one  nome  would  enter  the  triad  of  another  nome  in 
a  subordinate  position. 

"  Hathor,  supreme  at  Denderah,  shrank  into  insignificance 
before  her  husband,  Haroeris,  at  Edfu.  .  .  .  On  the  other  hand, 
Haroeris,  when  at  Denderah  .  .  ,  was  nothing  more  than  the 
almost  useless  consort  of  the  lady  Hathor."  * 

A  still  more  elaborate  system  of  Enneads,  or  groups  of  nine 
gods  and  goddesses,  arose  in  the  Old  Kingdom.  The  earliest 
recorded  is  the  Ennead  of  Heliopolis,  the  best  known  is  that  of 
Memphis,  the  centre  of  which  was  Ptah.  In  the  Ennead,  Atum 
(one  of  the  names  of  the  sun  god)  is  the  creator  of  things,  but 

'  Maspero,  The  Dawn  of  Civilization,  212,  214. 

*  ib.,  104.  "   ib.,  106. 


410  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

the  members  of  Atum  are  made  up  of  the  Ennead,  and  the  heart 
and  tongue  of  the  Ennead  is  Ptah. 

"  When  the  eyes  see,  the  ears  hear,  and  the  nose  breathes  they 
transmit  to  the  heart.  It  is  he  (the  heart)  who  brings  forth  every 
issue,  and  it  is  the  tongue  which  transmits  the  thought  of  the 
heart.  He  fashioned  all  gods,  even  Atum  and  his  Ennead.  .  .  . 
It  was  he  who  made  the  kas  and  [created]  the  qualities  (^.  e.  of 
the  sun  god) ;  who  made  all  food,  all  offerings  by  his  word ;  who 
made  that  which  is  loved  and  that  which  is  hated.  It  was  he 
who  gave  life  to  the  peaceful  and  death  to  the  guilty.  .  .  .  He 
fashioned  the  gods,  he  made  the  cities.  .  .  .  Then  the  gods 
entered  into  their  bodies  of  every  wood  and  every  stone  and 
every  metal.  Everything  grew  upon  its  trees  whence  they 
came  forth."  ^ 

This  is  neither  pure  Pantheism  nor  Monotheism,  but  it  is  the 
germ  of  either  or  both.  One  god  is  not  set  up  to  the  exclusion  of 
others  as  in  Monotheism,  nor  is  all  the  universe  merged  in  a 
divine  spirit  as  in  Pantheism.  Rather  nine  great  gods  are  some- 
how merged  in  one  which  is  the  central  principle  among  them, 
and  this  principle  is  the  heart,  which  figures  the  mind  or  soul  in 
the  concrete  terms  of  early  thought.  The  unity  is  not  that  of 
a  profound  mysticism  which  has  seen  through  differences  to  a 
deeper  identity,  nor  yet  is  it  the  purely  ciiildish  blurring  of 
differences  that  we  find  in  magic.  It  is  something  on  the  way 
from  the  lower  to  the  higher  stage  of  thought,  and  it  would 
doubtless  have  proceeded  further  and  faster  in  Egypt  but  for 
the  multiplicity  of  local  centres,  each  jealous  for  the  sole  deity 
of  its  oAm  domain. 

"  The  feudal  spirit,  always  alert  and  jealous,  prevented  the 
higher  dogma,  which  was  dimly  apprehended  in  the  temples, 
from  triumphing  over  local  religions  and  extending  over  the 
whole  land.  Egypt  had  as  many  '  sole  '  deities  as  she  had  large 
cities  or  even  important  temples.  She  never  accepted  the  idea 
of  the  sole  god  '  beside  whom  there  is  no  other.'  "  ^ 

The  monotheistic  tendency  nevertheless  developed  in  later 
periods,  mainly  in  the  form  of  an  elevation  of  the  sun  god  to  a 
"upreme  position.     Thus,  in  the  Instruction  for  King  Mery-ke-re 
)f  the  Middle  Kingdom  we  read — 

"  God  made  heaven  and  earth  at  their  (men's  )  desire; 
They  are  his  own  images  proceeding  from  his  flesh." 

1  Breasted,  Development  of  Religion  and  Thought  in  Ancient  Egypt, 
pp.  43-46. 

"  Maspero,  Dawn  of  Civilization,  p.   152. 


THE  EARLY  PHASES   OF  THOUGHT  411 

He  "  knows  every  man."  He  may  hide  himself  for  a  genera- 
tion, but  his  authority  is  always  there.^ 

The  expansion  of  Egypt  under  the  New  Kingdom  would  make 
men  think  of  the  power  of  the  greater  gods  in  terms  of  the  whole 
world  rather  than  of  Egypt  alone,  and  so  it  is  perhaps  that  a  more 
definite  monotheism  makes  its  appearance. ^  In  a  hymn  of 
Amenhotep  III.'s  reign  {circ.  1400  B.C.)  the  sun  god  is  he — 

"  Who  determines  his  own  birth  .  .  . 
Illuminating  the  Two  Lands  (Egypt)  with  his  disk, 
The  primordial  being  who  himself  made  himself  .  .  . 
Sole  lord  taking  captive  all  lands  every  day."  ^ 

Amenhotep  IV.  about  1375  B.C.  made  an  extraordinary  attempt 
to  establish  the  worship  of  the  sun  god  under  the  name  of  Aton 
to  the  exclusion  of  every  other.  No  other  gods  or  images  of 
gods  or  formulas  swearing  by  gods  were  tolerated.  Even  in  the 
charms  for  the  dead  Osiris  might  not  be  named.*  This  was 
certainly  monolatry  and  it  would  seem  also  true  monotheism, 
for  Aton  is  addressed  as  creator  and  father  of  all — 

"  0  sole  god  whose  powers  no  other  possesseth, 
Thou  didst  create  the  earth  according  to  thy  heart 
While  thou  wast  alone  .  .  . 
The  foreign  countries  Syria  and  Kush, 
The  Land  of  Egypt,  .  .  . 
O  god  who  himself  fashioned  himself  .  .  . 
Thou  art  the  mother  and  the  father  of  all  that  thou  hast  made."^ 

Amenhotep  IV.  was  in  advance  of  his  age  and  his  reforms 
were  swept  away.  For  people  found  that  "if  men  prayed  to  a 
god  for  succour,  he  came  not  ...  if  men  besought  a  goddess 
likewise,  she  came  not  at  all."  ^  Yet  under  other  names,  mainly 
as  Amon-Re,  the  supremacy  of  the  sun  god  and  the  monotheistic 
tendency  survived  and,  as  we  shall  see  further,  takes  a  more 
distinctly  ethical  turn,  as  in  the  hymn  to  Amen  Re — 

"  Hearing  the  complaint  of  him  who  is  oppressed, 
Kindly  of  heart  when  called  upon. 

He  delivereth  the  timid  from  him  who  is  of  a  froward  heart, 
He  judgeth  the  cause  of  the  weak  and  the  oppressed.  .  .  . 
One  and  only  one,  maker  of  all  that  are. 
From  whose  eyes  mankind  issued, 

^  Gardiner,  Journal  of  Egyptian  Archaeology,  January  1914,  pp.  33,  34. 
Mr.  Gardiner  speaks  of  the  lines  quoted  as  perhaps  the  earliest  monotheistic 
passage  in  Egyptian  hterature. 

^  Mr.  Breasted  lays  great  stress  on  this  political  factor  (op.  cit.  pp.  47, 
315,  etc.). 

»  Cf.  p.  317.         *  p.  340.         s  Op.  cit.,  pp.  326-330,  etc.         «  p.  345. 


412  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

By  whose  mouth  the  gods  were  created, 

Who  makest  the  herbage,  and  makest  to  live  the  cattle,  goats, 

swine  and  sheep,  etc.,  etc.  .  .  . 
Sole  king  is  he  even  in  the  midst  of  the  gods ; 
Many  are  his  names,  none  knoweth  their  number,"  ^ 

This  is  not  monotheism.  It  reminds  us  rather  of  the  psalm 
that  begins,  "  God  sat  among  the  congregation  of  gods,"  in  which 
Jehovah  appears  as  the  chief  figure  of  a  Pantheon.  It  reminds 
us  still  more  forcibly  of  the  Vedic  hymns  in  which  each  god  in 
turn  is  extolled  as  the  one  and  only  god. 

Still  later  we  find  the  pantheistic  strain — 

"  Thy  form  is  the  Nile,  the  first  born,  older  than  all  the  gods; 
thou  art  the  great  waters,  thou  art  the  sky,  thou  art  the  earth, 
thou  art  the  nether  world,  thou  art  the  water,  thou  art  the  air 
that  is  between  them.  Men  rejoice  because  of  thee,  (for)  thou 
ceasest  not  to  care  for  all  that  is."  ^ 

Egyptian  reHgion  rose  to  an  esoteric  doctrine  which  was  far 
above  the  crude  animism  from  which  it  started,  and  tended 
alternately  towards  monotheism  and  pantheism  without  reaching 
either  or  even  deciding  definitely  on  its  true  road.  For  it  at  no 
time  embodied  either  the  spiritual  message  of  an  apostle  or  the 
reasoned  system  of  a  thinker.  Yet  in  its  dim  prevision  of  real 
unity  underlying  differences  of  form  and  tradition  and  its  ever 
closer  association  of  religion  with  ethics  it  reached  the  highest 
point  short  of  those  "  discoveries  "  in  the  region  of  spiritual 
truth  which  have  laid  the  basis  of  the  world  religions. 

n.  In  Babylon,  as  in  Egypt,  primitive  animism  and  the 
magic  which  is  correlative  to  it,  underlie  throughout  the  wor- 
ship of  the  greater  gods.  In  its  progress  to  a  higher  stage  the 
Babylonian  rehgion,  it  would  seem,  worked  by  differentiation. 
The  more  important  natural  forces  became  gods,  the  inferior 
ones  were,  as  a  general  rule,  relegated  to  the  secondary  position 
of  mere  spirits.^  But  at  Babylon  these  inferior  gods  became 
in  large  measure  demons,  often  malevolent  demons,*  and  the 
Babylonian  magic,  which  was  so  important  a  feature  in  the  life 
of  the  people,  had  special  reference  to  these  demons.     They  could 

1  Griffith,  World's  Literature,  6312,  etc. 

*  From  a  hymn  of  the  Persian  period,  late  in  fifth  century  B.C.  (Breasted, 
p.  361). 

*  Jastrow,  Religion  of  Babylon  and  Assyria,  p.  49. 

*  As  an  illustration,  Nun-gal  was,  by  origin,  probably  a  lower  god  of 
Sippar.  He  disappears  as  a  god,  and  his  name  becomes  a  collective 
designation  for  a  powerful  group  of  demons  {ib.,  168). 


THE  EARLY  PHASES  OF  THOUGHT  413 

be  dealt  with  in  one  of  two  different  ways,  for  the  bewitched  man 
might  either  appeal  to  a  sorcerer,  who  could  control  the  spirit 
directly,  by  potions,  tjang  knots  which  would  strangle  him, 
burning  images,  and  so  on,  or  to  an  exorcist,  who  would  apply 
to  the  gods  for  their  help  against  the  demon,  and  if  properly 
treated  would  dehver  the  victim  out  of  their  hand.  Here  is  a 
description  of  the  Storm  Demons  of  Eridu — 

"  Seven  are  they,  they  are  seven, 
In  the  subterranean  deep  they  are  seven, 
Perched  (?)  in  the  sky  they  are  seven, 
In  a  section  of  the  subterranean  deep  they  were  reared, 
They  are  neither  male  nor  are  they  female, 
They  are  destructive  whirlwinds. 
They  have  no  wife  nor  do  they  beget  offspring. 
Compassion  and  mercy  they  do  not  know. 
Prayer  and  supplication  they  do  not  hear. 
Horses  bred  on  the  mountains  are  they. 
Hostile  to  Ea  are  they. 
Powerful  ones  among  the  gods  are  they. 
To  work  mischief  in  the  street  they  settle  themselves  in  the 

highway. 
Evil  are  they,  they  are  evil, 
Seven  are  they,  they  are  seven,  seven,  and  again  seven  are 

they."  1 

Next  hear  how  the  demons  took  possession  of  a  man  and  how 
they  were  driven  out — 

"  They  have  used  all  kinds  of  charms, 
to  entwine  me  as  with  ropes,  etc.  .  .  . 
But  I,  by  command  of  Marduk,  the  lord  of  charms, 
by  Marduk,  the  master  of  bewitchment, 
both  the  male  and  female  witch, 
as  with  ropes  I  will  entwine, 
as  in  a  cage  I  will  catch, 
as  with  cords  I  will  tie, 
as  in  a  net  I  will  overpower, 
as  in  a  sling  I  will  twist, 
as  a  fabric  I  will  tear, 
with  dirty  water  as  from  a  well  I  will  fill, 
as  a  wall  throw  them  down." 

This  is  declaimed  by  the  exorciser  and  accompanied  by 
Bymbohc  actions  .^ 

Often  the  gods  are  described  in  terms  of  the  crudest  animism. 
When  Ut-Napishtim  sacrifices  after  the  flood,  "  The  gods  inhaled 

1  Jastrow,  264.  ^  ib.,  272. 


414  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

the  odour,  the  gods  inhaled  the  sweet  odour,  the  gods  gathered 
hke  flies  around  the  sacrifice."  ^  The  finest  hymns  and  prayers 
are  associated  Avith  incantation  rituals.  The  efficacy  of  prayer 
depends  on  its  being  uttered  by  the  right  person  and  in  the  right 
manner,  for  the  approved  form  of  words  is  of  magical  efficacy .^ 
The  gods  are  of  limited  power.  They  are  taken  captive,  and 
released  by  Marduk,  "  who  showed  mercy  towards  the  captured 
gods,  removed  the  yoke  from  the  gods  who  were  hostile  to  him."  ^ 
They  sanction  the  Flood  and  then  bitterly  regret,  but  cannot 
undo  what  they  have  done.  The  gods  wept  with  Ishtar,  "  the 
gods  in  their  depression  sat  down  to  weep."  ^  Bel  alone  was 
ruthless.  He  bitterly  resented  the  preservation  of  Ut-Napishtim 
— "  "VN^iat  person  has  escaped  (?)  ?  No  one  was  to  survive  the 
destruction."     The  good  Ea  expostulates  with  him. 

"  Punish  the  sinner  for  his  sins, 
Punish  the  evil-doer  for  his  evil  deeds. 
But  be  merciful  so  as  not  to  root  out  completely, 
Be  considerate  not  to  destroy  everything. 
Instead  of  bringing  in  a  deluge. 
Let  lions  come  and  diminish  mankind.  .  .  . 
Let  tigers,  famine,  pestilence,  come  and  waste  the  land."  " 

Thus  adjured,  Bel  came  to  his  senses,  took  Ut-Napishtim  by 
the  hand  and  was  reconciled. 

Thus,  as  is  natural  on  anthropomorphic  principle,  there  are 
among  gods,  as  among  men,  good  and  bad,  kindly  rulers  and 
headstrong  tyrants.  We  have  seen  Ea  interceding  for  mankind. 
He  is  the  water-god,  the  giver  of  fertility ;  he  teaches  the  arts 
of  civilization,  and  liis  cult  is  favourable  to  human  feehng.  He 
tends  to  be  the  god  of  mankind  generally,  as  dissociated  from 
any  particular  spot.  Marduk,  again,  is  a  magnified  king,  the 
protector  of  the  weak,  he  releases  the  imprisoned,  and  punishes 
the  evil-doer.  But  Shamash  in  the  Assyrian  cult  is  the  centre 
of  a  higher  conception  than  any  other  deity .^  While  Ashur  and 
Ishtar  are  partial  to  Assyria,  the  favours  of  Shamash  are  be- 
stowed on  the  kings  for  righteousness,  and  it  is  in  the  presence 
of  Shamash  that  Tiglath-Pileser  sets  his  captives  free.  The 
following  hymn  to  Shamash  will  illustrate  his  character — 

"  The  law  of  mankind  dost  thou  direct. 
Eternally  just  in  the  heavens  art  thou. 
Of  faithful  judgment  towards  all  the  world  art  thou."  ' 
1  Jastrow,  503.         ^  ,-5.^  353.         3   ^^^  433_         4  ,^-j,^  502.  ^  ib.,  504. 

*  With  the  exception,  perhaps,  of  Sin,     See  the  hymn  to  Sin  quoted  in 
.Jastrow,  p.  303. 
7  Jastrow,  300. 


THE  EARLY   PHASES   OF  THOUGHT  415 

Yet  in  this  hymn,  \vhich  is  a  prayer  for  the  king's  life,  the 
later  lines  are  a  distinct  echo  of  the  incantation  formulse— 

"  Cleanse  him  like  a  vessel  .  .  . 
Illumine  him  like  a  vessel  of  .  .  . 
Like  the  coj^per  of  a  polished  tablet  let  him  be  bright. 
Release  him  from  the  ban." 

With  this  may  be  compared  Nebuchadrezzar's  hymn  to 
Marduk  on  his  accession — 

"  O,  Eternal  ruler  !    Lord  of  the  Universe  !  .  .  . 
It  is  thou  who  hast  created  me, 

And  thou  hast  entrusted  to  me  sovereignty  over  mankind. 
According  to  thy  mercy,  0  Lord,  which  thou  bestowest  upon 

all, 
Cause  me  to  love  thy  supreme  rule. 
Implant  the  fear  of  thy  divinity  in  my  heart."  ^ 

In  such  a  conception  of  prayer  there  was  surely  the  poten- 
tiality of  a  high  development  of  ethical  rehgion.  Yet  worship 
fails  to  differentiate  itself  wholly  from  magical  incantation,^  and 
though  there  are  good  gods  who  love  justice,  they  are  not  fused 
into  the  unity  of  one  real  creator  of  things.  In  spite  of  some 
occasional  expressions,^  the  better  opinion  appears  to  be  that 
there  was  no  real  monotheistic  tendency  among  the  Babylonians. 

12.  In  the  rehgion,  or  rather  the  religions,  of  the  Greeks, 
again,  as  in  the  light  of  modern  research  and  the  comparative 
method  we  are  coming  gradually  to  understand  the  subject 
anew,  we  see  three  distinct  stages  of  thought  intertwined.  At 
the  base  we  have  the  demons  of  animism  and  the  magical  rites 
of  "riddance."  We  have  the  Keres,  not  awful  mysterious  fates 
as  they  already  appear  at  times  to  be  in  Homer,  but  flitting 
mischievous  demons  bringing  all  manner  of  ills,  driven  away  with 
sticks  or  purged  mth  strong  scents  and  holy  plants  like  rue  and 
buckthorn.^  We  have  the  conception  of  a  quasi -physical  pollu- 
tion arising  now  from  breach  of  ceremonial,  now  from  an  outrage 
on  the  most  sacred  human  relations,  and  extending  to  physical 
objects  ^  as  well  as  to  man.  We  have  the  li\'ing,  self -avenging 
curse,  the  thin  ghost  squealing  like  a  bat,  and  crowding  to 
"  drink  the  life-blood  in  the  trench  Ulysses  made,"  the  animal 
god,  the  bogy,  the  monster  brood.     Above  these  fearsome  shapes 

1  Jastrow,  296.  =  ib.,  296  seq.,  314. 

^  See,  e.  g.  the  hymn  to  Sin,  referred  to  above,  and  cf.  Jastrow,  319, 

*  Harrison,  Prolegomena  to  the  Study  of  Greek  Religion,  p.  168. 

*  e.  g.  the  pollution  of  the  ?arth  by  blood. 


416  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

we  have  the  more  gracious,  strong,  beautiful,  and  finally  ideal 
human  forms  of  the  Olympian  gods — essentially  mere  men  and 
women  in  the  first  instance,  as  every  reader  of  Homer  knows,  but 
built  on  a  greater  scale ;  turbulent,  laughter-loving,  now  tender 
and  friendly,  now  unreasonably  resentful ;  joining  in  the  fights  of 
mortal  men,  and  capable  of  being  wounded  by  them,  prosecuting 
the  blood  feud,  as  Poseidon  against  Odysseus,  with  no  more 
regard  to  the  inherent  justice  of  the  case  than  the  human  avenger 
would  show ;  placated  by  sacrifice  and  trusted  to  perform  their 
part  in  the  implied  sacrificial  compact ;  united,  finally,  in  intricate 
theogonies,  and  so  affording  a  crude  basis  for  the  framework  of 
things  and  the  process  of  creation.  But  the  Olympian  gods, 
though  human  in  their  essence,  were  superhuman  in  the  types 
of  their  might,  majesty,  and  beauty.  They  have  incarnated 
for  all  subsequent  time  the  ideal  types  of  finite  humanity,  the 
satisfaction  of  a  mind  reposing  on  the  work  that  it  has  done  and 
knowing  that  it  is  good,  not  troubled  as  yet  with  the  infinite 
beyond  and  the  poverty  of  man's  power  to  cope  with  it.  They 
are  "the  happy  ones,"  glorified  children  of  a  time — not  as  an 
older  generation  supposed  when  the  world  was  young,  for  the 
world  in  Homer's  day  was  already  old,  but  when  for  a  while  it 
seemed  to  be  rene^ving  its  youth  under  fortunate  conditions, 
beneath  a  sunny  sky.  But  the  Greek  mind  outgrew  anthropo- 
morphism and  the  higher  development  took  two  directions.  On 
the  more  purely  religious  side  in  connection  with  the  Orphic 
mysteries  it  followed  a  line  not  unlike  and  greatly  influenced  by 
the  esoteric  doctrine  of  the  Egyptian  priests.  The  movement 
was  in  part  an  advance,  in  part  a  reversion  to  older  methods. 
The  initiated  felt  dimly  for  a  higher  rehgious  conception  by  the 
method  of  mystical  identifications,  first  between  the  gods  in 
their  various  forms — 

"  One  Zeus,  one  Hades,  one  Helios,  one  Dionysos, 
Yea  in  all  things  One  God,  his  name  why  speak  I  asunder  ?  "  ^ 

Secondly  between  the  god  and  the  worshipper — 

"  I  also  avow  me  that  I  am  of  your  blessed  race," 

says  the  initiated,  and  the  reply  is — 

"  Happy  and  Blessed  one ;  thou  shalt  be  god  instead  of  mortal."  ^ 

Similarly  in  the  Egyptian  Book  of  the  Dead,  the  soul  which 
passes  the  tests  becomes  itself  Osiris.  But  as  the  Book  of  the 
Dead  is  essentially  a  provision  of  magical  formulas,  whereby 

*  Harrison,  p.  656.  *  From  an  Orphic  hjTnn,  translated,  ib.,  586. 


THE  EARLY   PHASES   OF  THOUGHT  417 

admittance  to  the  realms  of  bliss  is  to  be  enforced,  so  it  would 
seem  that  the  Orphic  ritual  is  at  bottom  a  ritual  of  magic .^  It  is 
the  performance  of  ceremonial  acts  of  occult  efficacy  upon  which 
the  soul  is  to  rely.  Here,  as  so  often  in  mysticism,  tlie  spiritual 
consciousness  overleaps  itself  and  falls  back  intellectually  on 
primitive  confusions,  morally  on  the  purges  and  quasi-physical 
disinfectants  of  savage  religion.  It  is  much  if  purity  of  thought 
is  insisted  on  as  a  condition  and  the  worshipper  is  told  that  "  he 
who  enters  the  incense-laden  shrine  must  be  pure,  and  purity  is 
to  be  of  holy  heart."  ^ 

A  truer  spirituahty  is  to  be  found  in  the  reasoned  theism  of 
the  philosophers  and  the  philosophic  poets  of  Greece,  whom  the 
mob  of  educated  and  uneducated  ahke  took  for  atheists,  who 
were  aware  that  the  gods  of  the  popular  religion  were  beings 
made  by  man  in  his  own  image,  that  ethical  purity  must  be 
attained  by  etliical  and  not  by  magic  methods,  and  who  first 
taught  the  Avorld,  what  it  has  too  often  forgotten,  that  goodness 
and  God  are  identical.  These  are  the  essential  doctrines  of  a 
spiritual  rehgion ;  they  carry  us  outside  the  region  of  Polytheism, 
and  their  consideration  must  be  deferred  to  a  later  place.  For 
polytheism  proper  is  outgrown  when  the  stage  of  philosophic 
reflection  is  reached.  Its  anthropomorphic  deities  belong  to 
the  phase  of  thought  which  intervenes  between  the  primitive 
confusion  of  categories  and  the  philosophic  movement  which 
establishes  the  leading  conceptions  found  in  experience  as  clear- 
cut,  independent  objects  of  thought.  It  is  the  stage  of  the 
plastic  imagination  in  wliich  the  mind  is  fully  capable  of  forming 
for  itself  a  concrete  imagery  of  things  unseen  with  all  the  articu- 
lateness  and  vividness  of  so  many  objects  of  perception.  Its 
fictitious  personahties  are  no  longer  mere  pallid  doubles  of  this 
or  that  function.  They  are  many-sided  beings  with  distinctly 
conceived  attributes  and  a  regular  hfe  history.  If  their  origin 
is  traceable  to  animistic  confusions,  if  their  birth  is  in  some 
primitive  personification  of  a  function  or  an  attribute,  their 
adult  life  is  passed  on  a  higher  plane.  Their  world  is  articulate 
in  the  sense  that  its  parts  are  not  only  distinct  but  interconnected. 
The  gods  are  related  by  ties  of  blood  and  political  subordination, 
and  in  so  far  as  each  is  responsible  for  some  great  department 
of  nature  or  human  life,  the  theogonies  which  form  an  integral 
part  of  polytheism  may  be  said  to  form  a  first  attempt,  not 
perhaps  at  a  theory  of  the  universe,  but  at  an  imaginative  picture 

*  See  Harrison,  pp.  587-589. 

*  ib.,  479.  "Offia,  rendered  as  holy,  means  the  righteousness  which  the 
gods  ordain,  and  is  not  confined  to  naatters  of  ceremcnial. 

E  E 


418  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

of  the  agencies  by  which  its  framework  is  maintained.  The 
thought  of  the  polytheistic  stage  is  wider  in  its  reach,  just  as  it 
is  more  distinct  in  its  representation,  than  that  of  animism.  Its 
departmental  gods  represent  a  wider  grouping  of  phenomena 
in  proportion  as  a  god  of  vegetation  has  a  wider  scope  than  the 
spirit  of  this  particular  plant.  The  endeavour  to  connect  the 
several  gods  represent  an  attempt  at  a  still  wider  interconnection 
of  the  parts  of  human  experience.  But  all  these  endeavours  go 
on  in  the  form  of  concrete  imagery  and  without  any  critical  test 
of  truth  or  any  reflective  examination  of  the  conceptions  used. 
The  world  of  ideas  is  now  a  picture  with  many  clearly  drawn 
figures  in  which  the  several  categories  are  no  longer  hopelessly 
interchanged  and  confused,  but  the  thoughts  imbedded  in  this 
picture  are  not  yet  separated  out  and  held  before  the  mind  as 
objects  of  critical  examination.  It  is  a  world  whose  parts  ex- 
hibit some  order  and  interconnection,  wherein  a  wider  grouping 
of  the  phenomena  of  the  perceptual  world  is  mirrored,  but  this 
order  is  built  up  by  imagination  with  the  aid  of  fanciful  analogies 
and  ill -understood  myths,  adding  little  to  the  rational  insight 
into  the  actual  scheme  of  things. 


CHAPTER  II 

ETHICAL  CONCEPTIONS   IN   EARLY   THOUGHT 

1.  In  the  world  of  thought  dominated  by  Magic,  by  Animism, 
or  by  Polytheism,  what  account  do  men  render  to  themselves  of 
the  basis  of  conduct  ?  Wbat  reasons  do  they  give  for  the  rules 
wliich  they  acknowledge,  and  what  do  they  suppose  to  be  their 
meaning  and  end  ?  How  does  the  violation  of  rule  affect  them, 
and  how  do  they  act  when  such  violation  has  occurred  ?  To 
these  questions  no  single  and  simple  answer  can  be  given. 

No  doubt,  as  was  said  at  the  outset,  custom  is  binding  upon 
primitive  man,  and  binding  upon  him  in  truth  because  it  is 
custom.  But  while  this  is  the  real  moral  force  which  the  on- 
looker recognizes  as  the  essential  point,  primitive  races  have 
often  a  definite  conception  of  their  own  as  to  the  reasons  of 
their  obeying  custom.  Not  infrequently  its  breach  will  bring 
misfortune  upon  the  wrong-doer,  on  some  one  connected  with 
him,  or  on  the  community.  Thus  the  Aleuts  hold  that  the 
whale  avoids  dissolute  tribes,  on  which  aecount  whalers  must 
avoid  women  during  the  fishing  season.  But  the  whalers  may 
have  to  suffer  for  the  snns  of  others  as  well  as  their  own,  for  the 
whale  would  punish  them  if  their  wives  were  unfaithful  during 
their  absence,  or  if  their  sisters  were  unchaste  before  marriage.^ 
Similarly,  the  Australians  hold  that  certain  breaches  of  custom 
cause  the  Erkincha  disease  and  other  penal  ties. ^  Among  the 
Eastern  Eskimo,  though  abortion  and  infanticide  are  common, 
an  opinion  is  growing  against  them  on  the  ground  that  they 
bring  misfortune  in  the  village  where  the  child's  wailing  is 
heard  .^ 

The  process  whereby  breach  of  custom  thus  brings  about  its 

^  Reclus,  p.  52;  ib.,  p.  67.  Among  the  Konyaga  loose  behaviour  is 
considered  to  be  punished  by  difficult  confinements. 

*  Spencer  and  Gillen,  vol.  i.  pp.  168,  411,  471 ;  cf.  Howitt,  Organization 
of  the  Australian  Tribes,  p.  104,  and  Tribes  of  S.-E.  Australia,  p.  296. 

^  Reclus,  p.  34.  According  to  Westermarck  (p.  61)  unchastity  on  the  parfc 
of  a  girl  is  considered  by  the  natives  of  Loango  to  bring  ruin  on  a  country, 
and  some  of  the  Dyaks  think  that  a  pregnant  unmarried  woiTian  is  offensive 
to  the  superior  powers  (ib.,  63).  Among  the  Atkha  Aleuts  purification 
was  required  for  sexiial  immorality  (Yakof,  U.S.,  10th  Census,  vol.  viii.  p.  12). 

419 


420  MORALS   IN  EVOLUTION 

own  penalty  is  not  always  ea^y  to  trace.  The  cases  in  which  we 
have  full  information,  however,  fall  into  two  principal  classes.  In 
the  first,  the  connection  is  "  direct,"  i.  e.  an  evil  influence  is  set 
up  by  the  misdeed  wliich,  like  any  physical  cause,  produces 
disease  or  whatever  the  bad  result  may  be  :  these  cases  are  in 
line  with  primitive  magic.  They  involve  what  we  have  called  the 
materia  magica,  and  so,  though  no  magician  and  no  magic  art 
is  necessarily  involved,  the  sanction  may  conveniently  be  calk  d 
magical.  In  other  instances  the  trespass  is  held  to  offend  a 
certain  spirit,  or  possibly  to  put  the  evil-doer  or  his  friends  into 
the  power  of  the  evil  spirit.  This  conception  belongs  to  the 
department  of  animism,  and  here  the  sanction  may  be  called 
religious.  Finally,  the  two  conceptions  can  be  blended,  magical 
and  rehgious  elements  being  entangled  together. 

To  begin  with  magic  influences.  Wlien  the  Dakota  violates 
a  female  captive  or  breaks  the  rule  of  continence  upon  the 
war-path,  he  not  only  displeases  the  spirits  of  the  deceased, 
but  also  the  "war-medicine,"  and  on  both  grounds  brings  down 
misfortunes  on  his  party .^  Taboos  on  intercourse  have  been 
frequently  mentioned  as  forming  a  large  portion  of  primitive  life, 
and  as  influencing  the  marriage  laws  all  over  the  world,  and  the 
taboo  acts  like  a  magical  quality.  For  instance,  the  AustraHan 
native  must  not  eat  food  killed  by  certain  relations,  nor  generally 
food  into  which  such  persons  "  project  their  smell."  Here  the 
taboo  is  a  quahty  which  affects  the  food,  and  would  directly 
injure  the  eater. ^  We  have  seen  that  over  a  considerable  part 
of  the  savage  world  taboo  is  the  method  of  protecting  property, 
e.g.  in  Rotuma  the  natives  are  honest,  but  their  honesty  arises 
from  the  fear  that  if  one  touches  the  food  of  another  the  owner 
might  kill  him  by  its  means  .^  In  the  Melanesian  practice  *  the 
owner  of  the  property  controls  the  taboo.     We  are  expressly 

*  Schoolcraft,  vol.  iv.  p.  63.  According  to  Schoolcraft-Drake  (vol.  i. 
p.  188)  the  Winnebagos  attribute  their  respect  for  women  in  war  to  the  direct 
command  of  the  Great  Spirit.  Here  the  sanction  is  purely  religious,  but 
we  have  seen  that  the  conception  of  the  Great  Spirit  among  the  Red  Indians 
is  the  centre  of  manifold  confusion. 

*  Spencer  and  Gillen,  vol.  i.  p.  469. 

^  Gardiner,  J.  A.  I.,  vol.  xxvii.  p.  409.  We  have  referred  above  to  the 
imprecations  pronounced  over  the  boundary-stones  by  the  Babylonians. 
The  imprecations  would  make  the  stone  itself  avenge  any  disturbance  of 
it  (Maspero,  p.  762).  Similarly  the  stones  set  up  by  Laban  and  Jacob 
are  witnesses  to  the  division  of  the  land  (Gen.  xxxi.  45-52).  At  a  later 
stage  the  stone  has  become  inanimate,  but  a  curse  on  any  one  who  shall 
move  it  is  pronounced  by  the  whole  people  (Deut.  sxvii.).  The  curse  is 
still  the  punishment,  though  its  operation  is  perhnps  theological  rather  than 
magica,!. 

*  Referred  to  above.  Part  I.  chap.  viii. ;   Part  II.  chap.  i. 


ETHICAL  CONCEPTIONS  IN  EARLi'  THOUGHT    421 

told  that  it  has  no  authority  from  a  spirit.^  The  infectiousness 
of  the  taboo  is,  as  we  have  seen,  an  important  element  in  early 
criminal  law,  the  offender  who  has  broken  the  taboo  transferring 
its  dangerous  character  to  himself,  and  so  not  only  incurring  a 
curse,  but  also  involving  himself  in  the  penalty  of  exclusion  from 
the  community .2  Thus  the  breaking  of  taboo  carries  its  own 
punishment.  The  process  works  automatically  and  without 
need  of  the  intervention  of  a  spirit.  In  a  quite  similar  way  we 
have  seen  that  some  forms  of  oath  and  ordeal  provide  automatic 
punishments  of  perjury.  A  fetish  object  is  laid  on  the  stomach 
in  Great  Bassam,  a  stone  is  powdered  and  drunk  in  water  in 
Ashanti.  The  operation  in  both  cases  is  magical,^  Often  in 
early  society  the  laws  are  protected  by  a  curse  pronounced  by 
the  people  as  a  whole  or  by  a  priest  as  their  representative  on  any 
one  who  shall  break  them.  Thus,  we  have  the  well-known  list 
of  curses  in  the  Book  of  Deuteronomy,  and  a  quite  analogous 
set  of  inscriptions  recording  the  curses  pronounced  against 
offenders  in  the  early  Greek  states.*  In  the  same  way,  paternal 
authority  is  fortified  by  the  power  of  the  parental  curse  and 
blessing.  This  action  is  automatic,  and  though  we  may  say  that 
it  incorporates  an  ethical  idea  it  fails  to  work  in  strict  accordance 
\nth  etliical  conditions.  The  operation  of  the  magical  agency  is, 
if  the  term  may  be  coined,  paramoral — working  by  the  side  of 
the  ethical  principle,  but  not  always  on  the  same  lines.  The 
point  is  well  illustrated  in  the  story  of  the  sons  of  Isaac.  Jacob 
secures  by  fraud  the  blessing  intended  for  Esau,  and  once  given, 
the  blessing  cannot  be  withdraAvn.  It  is  quite  comparable  to  a 
piece  of  goods  made  over  once  for  all  and  not  to  be  resumed. 
The  most  Esau  can  hope  is  that  the  store  may  not  be  exhausted — 
"  Hast  thou  not  reserved  a  blessing  for  me  ?  "  "  Hast  thou  but 
one  blessing,  my  father  ?  "  ^  Yet  if  the  blessing  were  the  true 
expression  of  the  father's  loving  gratitude  won  by  good  service, 
Jacob  should  rather  have  had  a  curse  for  his  deceit. 

2.  Grotesque  as  the  magical  doctrine  of  punishment  appears 
when  stated  in  set  terms  or  illustrated  in  concrete  practice, 

^  Codrington,  J.  A.  I.,  vol.  x.  p.  279.  Compare  the  use  of  stones  by 
Eskimo  (Reclias,  p.  110,  and  cf.  Tvlor  on  the  mending  of  hedges  by  a 
cotton  thread  among  the  Kunama,  Contemp.  Beinew,  1873,  p.  704). 

^  See  Jevons,  Introduction  to  the  History  of  Religion,  pp.  70-87. 

'  Post,  A.  J.,  ii.  107,  108. 

*  Deut.  xx\-ii.  15  et  soq.  Cf.  Harrison,  p.  142,  for  selections  from  the 
"  Dirse  of  Teos."  "  \MiosccTcr  maketh  baneful  drugs  against  the  Teans, 
,  .  .  may  he  perish,  both  he  and  his  offspring,"  etc. 

5  Gen.  xxvii.  .'IG-SS. 


422  MORALS   IN  EVOLUTION 

puerile  as  the  whole  machinery  of  magic  stones,  avenging  beans, 
and  death-deaHng  gibberish  looks  when  viewed  from  behind  the 
scenes,  yet  the  conception  of  an  inherent  retribution  following 
as  an  automatic  consequence  of  the  wrong  act  lies  close  to 
the  permanent  moral  consciousness  of  mankind,  closer  than  the 
alternative  theory  of  punishment  ah  extra  inflicted  by  a  vengeful 
spirit  or  a  just  god.  For  here  as  elsewhere,  the  magical  doctrine 
merely  crystallizes  a  diffused  psychological  state  into  a  material 
object  or  a  physical  occurrence.  We  can  all  put  ourselves 
without  the  slightest  difficulty  into  the  mental  attitude  of  the 
savage  who  breaks  a  taboo.  We  have  many  tilings  that  are 
taboo  to  us  and  we  know  what  it  is  to  handle  them.  Whatever 
we  beHeve  or  disbelieve  in  rehgion  or  in  morals,  there  remain  for 
all  of  us  certain  things  to  do  which  affects  us  with  a  greater  or 
less  degree  of  mental  discomfort,  varying  from  uneasiness  to 
acute  remorse  or  the  extreme  of  cold  self -horror.  These  are 
in  strictness  feelings  attendant  or  consequent  upon  the  action. 
ExternaHze  them,  turn  what  we  feel  about  the  act  into  some 
physical  attribute  of  the  thing  or  person  with  which  the  act  is 
concerned,  some  noxious  emanation,  some  death-dealing  "  smell," 
and  the  feehng  becomes  a  taboo.  Once  aga,in,  take  away  the 
taboo  and  at  first  sight  the  basis  of  the  feeling  seems  to  be  re- 
moved, and  moral  obligation  to  disappear.  But  then  comes  a 
rational  consideration  of  the  whole  circumstances  of  the  case — 
the  deliberate  view  of  the  total  effect  of  the  bad  act  on  our  own 
character,  on  the  lives  and  happiness  of  others,  on  the  social 
order,  on  everything  that  we  hold  in  affection  and  esteem.  On 
this  view  we  can  see  that  our  horror  has  its  legitimate  function, 
that  it  has  grown  up  as  an  integral  part  of  the  conditions  which 
constitute  us  fit  members  of  a  human  society,  so  that  before  we 
can  reason  out  all  that  a  bad  act  implies  we  have  a  feehng  about 
it  in  wliich  those  consequences  are  in  a  manner  represented. 
Now  this  feehng  is  the  great  permanent  fact  of  the  moral  con- 
sciousness persisting  through  all  stages  of  development.  The 
conceptions  to  wliich  it  gives  rise  vary  greatly,  and  their  varia- 
tions affect  and  are  affected  by  the  whole  scope  and  character 
of  practical  morality,  so  that  their  history  is  the  history  of  moral 
development.  The  simplest  of  all  ways  of  conceiving  the  facts 
is  that  of  attributing  malefic  quality  to  the  bad  act  itself — the 
act,  or  some  person  or  thing  affected  by  it,  taking  on  itself  by 
the  primitive  mental  process  of  assimilation  the  quality  of  the 
mental  feeling  which  arises  in  us  when  the  act  is  contemplated 
in  our  minds.  So  near,  indeed,  is  this  to  the  permanent  tenden- 
cies of  the  moral  consciousness  that  language  to  this  day  speaks 


ETHICAL  CONCEPTIONS   IN  EARLY  THOUGHT    423 

of  the  act  as  noble,  base,  or  horrible,  as  if  these  were  qualities 
attaching  to  a  physical  event,  and  not  expressions  for  feehngs 
which  the  phj^sical  event  excites  and  psychological  and  social 
consequences  that  follow  from  it. 

We  may  even  go  a  step  further,  and  say  that  in  considerable 
measure  wrong-doing  is  still  conceived  rather  magically  than 
ethically.  Take,  for  example,  the  case  of  sexual  intercourse.  It 
is  hardly  too  much  to  say  that  for  the  average  moral  consciousness 
this  is  still  held  to  be  sanctified  by  marriage  as  by  the  removal 
of  a  taboo,  so  that  neither  the  production  of  children  without 
means  to  maintain  them,  nor  the  indulgence  of  physical  passion 
without  psychical  love,  is  strongly  condemned  when  covered  by 
the  ceremony.  On  the  other  hand,  the  woman  who  breaks  the 
taboo  uncovered  by  the  ceremony  is  stamped  once  for  all  with  the 
scarlet  letter,  without  regard  to  the  question  whether  she  was 
the  experienced  temptress  or  one  whose  fault  was  merely  to  have 
loved  and  trusted  too  much.  She  is  marked,  tabooed.  Though 
condemned  most  loudly  by  the  self -styled  "  morahst,"  the  con- 
demnation of  her,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  is  not  really  moral — 
that  is  to  say,  based  on  a  rational  view  of  her  character  and  its 
potentialities  for  good  and  evil,  but  magical,  based  on  a  supposed 
bad  quality,  acquired  once  for  all  by  the  breach  of  a  taboo,  in 
view  of  which  she  is  a  piece  of  damaged  goods  in  the  social 
market.  And,  like  all  magical  qualities,  the  taboo  is  eminently 
infectious,  and  all  respectable  women  are  seen  gathering  their 
skirts  about  them  to  avoid  that  contact  with  the  offender  which 
would  communicate  the  stain  to  themselves. 

On  the  other  hand,  a  man  may  be  said  to  incur  a  magical 
rather  than  an  ethical  condemnation  in  cases  of  cowardice  and 
perhaps  of  certain  kinds  of  dishonesty.  The  "  prison -taint  " 
hangs  in  a  measure  about  one  who  has  ever  been  convicted  and 
degrades  him  below  much  greater  criminals  who  have  kept 
witliin  the  law.  In  all  these  matters  the  function  of  the  ethical 
thinker  is  to  plead  for  that  rational  consideration  of  character 
and  conduct,  that  a-vyyvwfjir] ,  which  is  the  truest  safeguard  against 
Pharisaism,  and  which,  making  us  aware  of  the  extreme  fallibility 
of  our  judgments  upon  other  people,  bids  us  confine  such  judg- 
ments to  the  minimum  point  requisite  for  regulating  our  dealings 
with  prudence  and  justice.  We  must  so  far  "  judge  "  a  convicted 
cheat  as  to  beware  of  trusting  him  for  the  future,  but  as  to  the 
intrinsic  worth  of  his  character  when  all  is  summed  up,  and  how 
it  compares  with  that  of  many  who  need  no  repentance — of  this, 
omniscience  alone  can  judge.  "  Judge  not  "  is  a  standing  protest 
against  magical  condemnations. 


424  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

3.  Close  as  the  magical  judgment  stands  to  the  permanent 
conditions  of  the  moral  consciousness  it  is  not  the  only  form  in 
Avhich  the  primitive  mind  conceives  the  sanction  of  conduct. 

As  the  behef  in  spirits  generally  accompanies  that  in  the 
efficacy  of  magic,  so  the  magical  conception  of  punishment  very 
readily  yields  to  or  blends  with  the  conception  of  spiritual 
intervention.  Thus,  the  oath  often  takes  the  form  of  invoking 
the  vengeance  of  a  spirit.^  In  the  case  of  the  North  American 
Indians  we  have  seen  that  the  spirit  and  the  "war-medicine" 
worked  together  to  secure  self-restraint.  The  Dakotas  attribute 
bad  luck  in  hunting  to  an  offence  committed  by  some  of  the 
hunter's  family  against  the  spirits  of  the  dead.  The  taboo  on  an 
offender  may  be  due  to  the  fact  that  the  spirits  are  wroth  with 
him.  Thus,  a  murderer  may  be  avoided  because  he  is  pursued 
by  the  ghost  of  his  victim  and,  again,  the  avenger  of  blood  who 
fails  to  do  his  duty  may  himself  be  pursued  by  the  indignant 
spirit  of  his  slain  relative.  We  are  not,  indeed,  to  suppose  that 
the  ordinary  spirit  of  animism  has  a  detached  or  impartial 
interest  in  human  conduct ;  on  the  contrary,  animism  is  for  the 
most  part  non-moral,  and  a  good  deal  of  it  is  immoral.  There 
is  no  reason  why  the  spirit  of  a  river  should  be  any  more  con- 
cerned with  morahty  than  the  river  itself,  while,  on  the  contrary, 
there  is  some  reason  why  the  spirit  of  a  disease  should  be  more 
immoral  than  the  disease  itself,  for,  abstracted  from  the  spirit 
which  guides  or  animates  it,  smallpox  is  not  a  being  which  bears 
ill-will  to  men,  but  the  spirit  of  smallpox  is  a  monster  going  about 
seeking  whom  it  may  devour,  and  perhaps  demanding  sacrifices 
to  appease  it.  Hence,  savage  animism  tends  often  to  what, 
from  our  point  of  view,  are  cruelties  and  immoralities  which 
would  othermse  not  occur.  The  spirits  of  men,  however,  may 
be  naturally  expected  to  look  upon  conduct  just  as  men  them- 
selves do,  and  consequently  will  applaud  the  good  and  reprobate 
the  evil  in  the  same  way.  Here  is  a  possible  means  of  connecting 
rehgion  with  morahty  which  is  not  left  altogether  unused  in  the 
savage  world.  Thus,  the  Manes  become  the  natural  guardians 
of  morality  in  the  family ;  the  son  who  kills  his  father  is  naturally 
punished  by  the  ghost  just  as  he  would  be  by  the  living  man  had 
his  blow  not  been  fatal.^  It  is  but  a  shght  extension  of  this  idea 
that  the  spirit  of  the  father  should  avenge  other  crimes,  or  that 
the  spirits  of  remoter  ancestors  should  participate  in  the  ven- 

-  Post,  Afrikanische  Jurisprudenz,  ii.  127. 

'  See  Leist,  p.  314,  who  quotes  Iliad,  xxi.  412;  Odyssey,  xi.  280.  The 
only  doubt  in  such  passages  is  wliether  it  is  the  curse  or  the  ghost  of  tlie 
parent  which  operates. 


ETHICAL  CONCEPTIONS  IN  EARLY  THOUGHT    425 

geance,  so  that  the  boy  who  strikes  his  father  or  mother  "is 
devoted  "  to  the  Divi  parentum,^  or  that  a  similar  fate  should 
punish  other  crimes  in  a  family  such  as  incest  or  cruelty  to  a 
mother.2  Again,  when  customs  have  been  first  instituted  by 
an  ancestor  or  a  predecessor  of  an  heroic  age  his  spirit  continues 
to  take  an  interest  in  their  observance,  and  he  is  angry  with  and 
perhaps  punishes  those  who  disregard  them.  As  far  down  in 
the  scale  as  the  natives  of  South-Eastern  Australia  we  find  spirits 
of  this  kind.  The  tribes  north  of  the  Herbert  Paver  recognize  a 
being  called  Kohin,  who  once  came  down  to  earth,  but  now^  has 
his  home  in  the  Milky  Way,  though  he  roams  about  by  night  on 
earth,  kilhng  those  whom  he  meets.  He  is  offended  by  breaches 
of  the  marriage  taboos,  by  the  eating  of  forbidden  food,  or  by 
neglect  to  wear  mourning  for  the  prescribed  period,  and  sooner 
or  later  the  offending  native  dies.^ 

4.  The  spirit  of  animism,  however,  is  not  as  such  a  moral  being 
whom  wickedness  offends  :  he  is  concerned  only  with  the  conduct 
wliich  affects  himself,  and  so  animistic  rehgion  often  presents 
itself  in  the  mass  as  wholly  non-moral.'*    The  savage  prays  in  the 

1  Law  of  Servius  Tullius  (Brtms,  p.  14). 

*  Leist,  p.  320,  quoting  Iliad,  ix.  454,  and  Odyssey,  ii.  134. 

^  Grenerally  speaking,  in  South-East  Atistralia  "  a  belief  exists  in  an 
anthropomorphic  supernatural  being  who  lives  in  the  sky,  and  who  is 
supposed  to  have  some  kind  of  influence  on  the  morals  of  the  natives  " 
(Howitt,  p.  500). 

Mr.  Howitt  adds  that  "  no  such  belief  seems  to  obtain  in  the  remainder 
of  Australia  "  ;  and  Messrs.  Spencer  and  Gillen  declare  still  more  definitely 
that  the  Central  Australian  natives  "  have  no  idea  whatever  of  the  existence 
of  any  supreme  being  who  is  pleased  if  thej^  follow  a  certain  line  of  what 
we  call  moral  conduct,  and  displeased  if  they  do  not  do  so.  They  have 
not  the  vaguest  idea  of  a  personal  individual  other  than  an  actual  living 
member  of  the  tribe  who  approves  or  disapproves  of  their  conduct,  so  far 
as  anything  like  what  we  call  morality  is  concerned  "  (Spencer  and  Gillen, 
vol.  ii.  p.  491). 

The  only  possible  exception  is  in  the  case  of  the  Kaitish  tribe,  who 
recognize  a  superior  being  called  Atnatu,  who  is  displeased  if  the  bull-roarer 
is  not  sounded  in  the  initiation  ceremony. 

*  Thus,  Captain  Ellis  denies  broadly  that  there  is  anj-  connection  between 
religion  and  morals  in  any  of  the  three  peoples  of  whom  he  writes  (the 
Tshi,  the  Ewe,  and  the  Yoruba),  becaiise,  he  says,  the  savage  only  revenges 
what  affects  himself  ( Yoruba,  p.  293).  Other  instances  that  I  have  found 
scattered  among  the  accovuits  of  a  large  nvimber  of  peoples  are  the  follow- 
ing. In  Africa,  among  the  Basonge  the  ghost  of  a  father  appears  to  his 
son  in  a  dream  and  chides  him  for  bad  conduct  (Overbergh,  Mon.,  iii. 
325).  Among  the  Koita  of  New  Guinea  the  ghost  would  punish  any  neglect 
of  funeral  rites  and  anj-  infringement  of  tribal  custom  (Seli,gm.aTWi, 
p.  191),  while,  among  the  Roro  tribes,  the  ghosts  bring  good  luck,  biit  if 
annoyed  by  too  much  quarrelling  auiong  the  women,  may  spoil  the  hujiting 
(Seligmann,  p.  310).  The  Fuegians  are  said  to  believe  in  a  spirit  in  the  form 
of  a  big  black  man,  who  sends  storms  wlien  they  do  wrong  (Garson,  J.  ^4.  /, 


426  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

simplest  and  most  direct  manner  for  the  fulfilment  of  his  desires, 
without  the  smallest  regard  to  what  we  should  consider  moral 
obligations.  The  warrior  does  not  even  stop  to  explain  the 
justice  of  his  cause  to  the  deity  as  more  civilized  men  are  wont 
to  do.  "  Great  Quahootze,"  prays  a  Nootka  Indian  in  preparing 
for  war,  "  let  me  live,  not  be  sick ;  find  the  enemy,  not  fear  him ; 
find  him  asleep  and  kill  a  great  many  of  him."  ^ 

The  spirit  is  moved  by  the  same  considerations  which  move 
the  savage  himself.  An  offering  pleases  him  and  he  will  pay  for 
it.  He  may  be  expected  to  stand  by  his  friends  like  a  primitive 
man,  and  hate  his  enemies,  according  to  the  same  model.  For 
the  rest,  his  character  is  drawn  from  the  object  which  he  animates, 
or  the  process  which  he  personifies,  or  the  function  over  which 
he  presides.  Thus,  if  he  is  a  disease  spirit  he  is  evil,  and  the  very 
living  worship  of  evil  spirits  together  with  the  comparative  neglect 
of  those  which  enjoy  a  good  character  is  in  itself  a  strong  mark 

XV.  145).  WTiere  higher  gods  come  into  play,  the  ethical  influence  is 
more  often  noted.  Thus,  among  tlio  Coast  Salish,  the  Great  Transformer 
will  some  time  descend  from  heaven  again  and  punish  the  bad  (Boas, 
B.  A.,  1890,  p.  580).  The  Comanches,  according  to  Schoolcraft  (ii.  225), 
believe  that  the  Great  Spirit  punishes  them  for  lying  and  other  offences. 
Among  the  Winnibagoes  respect  for  women  in  war  is  said  to  be  enjoined 
by  the  Great  Spirit  (Schoolcraft,  iv.  53).  Among  the  Tsimshian,  though 
we  do  not  hear  of  future  retribution,  heaven  hates  murderers,  adulterers, 
and  foolish  talkers,  while  it  loves  those  who  pity  the  poor  and  do  not  try 
to  become  rich  by  selling  dear  (Boas,  B.  A.,  1889,  p.  846). 

Among  the  Blackfeet,  the  sun  is  all-beneficent,  and  good  to  those  who  do 
right.  Penances  are  done  in  the  medicine  lodge  to  please  him,  and  a 
woman,  anxious  for  a  sick  child,  builds  a  lodge  to  the  sun  and  vows  she  has 
not  committed  adultery  (Grinnell,  Blackfeet  Lodge  Tales,  258,  264),  Among 
the  Paharias,  he  who  obeys  God's  commands  must  neither  injure,  abuse, 
beat,  nor  kill  any  one;  nor  rob,  nor  steal,  nor  waste  food  and  clothes  ;  nor 
quarrel ;  but  he  will  praise  God  morning  and  evening,  and  women  must 
do  this  too.  Such  a  man  is  born  again  as  a  chief,  while  others  become 
animals  (Dalton,  p.  265  seq. — some  doubt  as  to  authenticity).  Among 
tlio  Kayans,  Hose  and  McDougall  state  that  fear  of  the  toh  serves  as  a 
constant  check  on  the  breach  of  customs,  while  the  part  which  the  major 
spirits,  or  gods,  play,  remains  extremely  vague.  On  the  whole,  the  gods 
make  for  morality  but,  "  except  so  far  as  conduct  is  accurately  prescribed 
by  custom  and  tradition,  their  influence  seems  to  be  negligible  "  (ii.  204). 
Among  the  simple  Punans,  "  religious  beliefs  probably  influence  their  con- 
duct less  strongly  than  do  those  of  the  Kayans  "  (ib.,  p.  187).  The  Karaya 
are  said  to  have  no  morals  in  their  religion  (Ehrenreich,  op.  cit.,  34). 
In  British  Guiana,  im  Thurm  denies  any  connection  of  morality  with  anim- 
ism [op.  cit.,  p.  342).  The  Gonds  are  said  to  have  no  moral  deity  (Forsyth, 
Highlands  of  Central  India,  145).  The  Batak  religion  is  said  to  be  wholly 
non-moral  (Miiller,  op.  cit.,  p.  13).  Compare  Tylor  [Contemporary  Review, 
April  1873,  p.  710)  on  tlie  Papuans  and  Caribs.  Speaking  generally. 
Professor  Tylor  considers  that  savage  animism  is  almost  devoid  of  the 
ethical  element  [Primitive,  Culture,  vol.  ii.  p.  360). 

^  Tylor,  vol.  ii.  p.  366,  where  a  number  of  similar  prayers  for  direct 
material  advantages  are  given. 


ETHICAL  CONCEPTIONS   IN   EARLY  THOUGHT    427 

of  the  low  ethical  standard  of  animism.  As  an  ancestor  who 
cares  for  the  family  welfare,  as  protector  of  a  special  place  or  a 
class  of  people,  or  as  the  avenger  who  may  be  called  upon  in  the 
formula  of  an  oath,  a  spirit  may  resent  injuries  or  insults  affecting 
his  authority.  It  is  only  in  this  indirect  manner  that  the  lower 
animism  provides  a  sanction  of  conduct. 

A  step  forward  is  taken  when  spirits  arise  which  are  them- 
selves personifications  of  the  moral  order,  or  of  some  portions 
thereof.  We  can  conceive  such  impersonations  arising  either 
on  the  basis  of  animistic  or  of  magical  conceptions.  Wliat  is 
essential  is  that  they  should  embody  a  certain  disinterestedness 
which  transforms  their  action  from  the  sphere  of  mere  resent- 
ment to  that  of  justice.  Thus,  as  long  as  the  father's  spirit  is 
merely  acting  in  revenge  of  a  personal  injury,  it  is  not  really  a 
moral  agency,  but  if  it  is  held  to  supervise  the  family  laws 
without  reference  to  its  own  interests,  it  begins  to  be  a  disinter- 
ested judge.  Similarly,  there  is  nothing  moral  in  the  action  of  a 
curse  as  such,  but  if  the  curse,  having  materiahzed  into  a  quasi- 
spirit,  is  set  in  motion  by  certain  specified  breaches  of  morality, 
and  by  those  only,  it  has  acquired  a  more  judicial  character. 
We  seem  to  see  a  transition  of  this  kind  going  on  the  case  of 
the  Erinys.  At  first  probably  a  "  dark-fhtting  "  curse  which 
can  be  set  in  motion,  for  example,  by  the  angry  parent,  or  the 
despised  supphant,  it  is  already  in  Homer  a  spirit  dwelling  in 
Hades,  and  a  hard-smiting  goddess  who  avenges  wrongs.  At 
times  it  seems  to  come  without  regard  to  any  other  considera- 
tions at  the  bidding  of  those  who  have  the  right  to  call  on  it. 
Thus,  for  his  unwitting  sin  against  his  mother,  CEdipus  suffers 
"  all  that  the  Erinyes  of  a  mother  accomplish."  ^  The  father  of 
Phoenix,  though  he  certainly  had  little  right  on  his  side,  called 
on  the  hateful  Erinj^es,  and  his  curse  was  accomplished. ^  Iris 
reminds  Poseidon  that  the  Erinyes  always  wait  upon  an  elder .^ 
At  times,  too,  the  Erinyes  seem  to  be  carr3dng  out  a  vicarious 
punishment  with  a  certain  blind  and  mechanical  fatahty,  as  when 
the  Harpies  carry  off  the  daughters  of  Pandareos,  notwithstand- 
ing all  the  goddesses  had  done  for  them,  and  give  them  to  the 
hateful  Erinyes  to  haunt  them  on  account,  apparently,  of  their 
father's  crime.*  At  other  times  the  Erinyes  are  rather  the 
avengers  of  certain  wrongs,  of  the  despised  beggar,^  and  of  the 
broken  oath — for  which  "  beneath  the  earth  they  punish  men." 
Here  they  are  really  protectors  of  certain  branches  of  the  moral 
"aw.     Thus,  wha,t  is  at  one  point  merely  a  curse  embodying  the 

1  Odyssey,  xi.  280.  «  Iliad,  ix.  454.  "  ib.,  xv.  204. 

*  Odyssey,  xx.  60-78.  ^  ib.,  xvii.  475. 


428  MORALS   IN  EVOLUTION 

resentment  of  an  injured  party,  becomes  at  another  a  spirit 
dwelling  in  Hades,  flitting  in  the  dark  and  smiting  hard  when 
set  in  motion  by  those  who  have  the  power  to  do  so,  and  in  yet 
others  a  spirit  watching  over  certain  branches  of  morality.  In 
the  first  case,  where  the  curse  is  a  mere  instrument  of  revengeful 
feeling,  there  is  notliing  specifically  moral.  In  the  last,  where 
the  curse  falls  impartially  on  any  breaker  of  given  laws,  the 
moral  element  is  clear.  Between  the  two,  the  curse  that  can 
be  set  in  motion  by  defuiite  authorities  under  defhiite  conditions 
seems,  at  least  in  the  case  of  the  Erinyes,  to  be  the  link.^ 

The  Erinys  is  still  the  avenger  of  wrongs  done  to  individuals 
and  of  special  cases  of  wrong-doing,^  but  in  the  goddess  Themis 
the  Greeks  of  the  Homeric  age  had  a  more  generalized  con- 
ception of  a  patron  of  justice.  Themis  is  distinctly  a  goddess, 
she  receives  the  gods  at  their  gathering  for  the  banquet  on 
Olympus,'  but  she  has  a  double  rela.tion  to  human  justice — in 
the  first  place,  a  general  oversight ;  and  in  the  second  place,  a 
special  regard  for  the  divine  traditions  which  are  ever  growing 
up  through  the  decisions  of  oracles,  the  Upa  koI  oo-ta,  and  to  her 
sphere  belong  those  customary  rights  which,  in  early  society, 
men  who  are  unprotected  by  belonging  to  a  family  have  no 
human  means  of  enforcing,  and  thus  in  particular  the  stranger 
and  the  beggar  and  the  suppliant  are  under  her  care.'* 

Wliile  the  Erinyes  and  Themis  are  strictly  independent  beings, 
their  functions  become  closely  associated  with  the  gods,^  and 
especially  with  Zeus,  the  chief  god  of  Olympus.  Zeus  acts  in 
accordance  with  Themis.  In  the  Iliad  he  already  punishes  un- 
just decisions  with  storms,'  and  in  his  capacity  of  Zeus  Xenios 
is  the  special  protector  of  the  stranger  and  suppliant.  In  each 
several  capacity  he  appears  under  the  appropriate  name — 

As  Zeus  Timoros,  he  is  the  god  of  retribution ;  as  Zeus  Hikesios, 
the  god  to  whom  the  suppliant  flies ;  as  Zeus  Apotropaios,  he  is 
the  averter  of  ill ;    as  Zeus  Horkios,  the  god  of  the  oath,  who 

^  I  nm  indebted  to  Mr.  A.  Sidgwick  for  a  valuable  note  in  which  the 
above  passages,  with  others,  are  collated. 

^  In  later  thought,  as  in  the  well-known  fragment  of  Heraclitus,  the 
Erinyes  appear  as  guardians  of  "  law  in  the  universe."  They  "  preserve 
the  stars  from  wrong."  On  the  whole  subject,  see  Miss  Harrison's  work, 
pp.  213-239,  and  Leist,  pp.  320,  321. 

3  Leist,  p.  207 ;    Iliad,  xv.  87. 

*  Leist,  p.  21L 

■'  In  the  case  of  Phoenix,  mentioned  above,  though  the  prayer  is  addressed 
to  tho  Erinyes,  the  curse  is  carried  out  by  Zeus  of  the  underworld  and 
Persephone.  Both  Erinyes  and  gods  attend  on  the  beggar  {Odyssey, 
xvii.  475). 

'   Iliad,  xvi.  385,  quoted  by  Leist,  p.  209. 


ETHICAL  CONCEPTIONS  IN  EARLY  THOUGHT    429 

punislies  perjury,  and  by  whom  the  Athenian  judges  swear  .^ 
The  different  epithets  are  themselves  half  personifications,  and 
Zeus  is  in  a  sense  a  different  being  in  each  capacity,  just  as  in 
the  mediaeval  world  Our  Lady  of  Embrun  was  and  was  not  the 
same  being  as  Our  Lady  of  Paris.  The  function  wavers  between 
being  a  god  itself  and  being  only  the  attribute  of  a  god.  But  in 
the  most  logical  anthropomorphism,  Zeus  is  one  god  who  super- 
vises the  moral  order  generally,  and  whose  punishments  are 
carried  out  by  the  Erinyes.  The  spirit  of  animism  serves  the 
gods  of  the  higher  stage. 

The  greatest  of  the  sons  of  Zeus  had  also  a  large  part  to  play 
in  the  ethics  of  Greece,  and  particularly  in  the  side  of  ethics  that 
touches  law,  statecraft,  and  inter-state  relations.  The  special 
connection  of  Apollo  with  the  ttoAis  dates  from  an  early  stage  of 
liis  career .2  Participation  in  his  sacra  is  at  Athens  a  test  of 
civic  status,  and  he  is  especially  associated  with  the  admission 
as  matter  of  law  of  a  justifiable  homicide  that  needs  no  more  than 
ceremonial  purification.^  Though  not  ashamed  to  be  a  slave- 
owner himself,  he  assisted  in  the  emancipation  of  slaves.    His 

^  On  the  moral  functions  of  Zeus,  see  Farneil,  vol.  i.  p.  64  ff.  Wc  get  a 
similar  development  in  the  Roman  religion.  Here  the  tendency  to  deify 
abstractions,  actions,  or  functions  is  early  and  persistent.  Thus  Saturnus 
suggests  no  personality,  but  rather  a  sphere  of  operations  (whether  we 
take  the  name  as  referring  to  sowing  or  seed  maturing  in  the  soil),  in  which 
a  certain  numen  is  helpful  "  (Warde  Fowler,  Roman  Religious  Experience, 
p.  118).  It  is  probable  that  many  of  the  more  specialized  function-gods 
(Sondergotter)  are  of  later  origin,  but  if  this  is  so  it  illustrates  the  persistence 
of  the  tendency  in  the  more  formal  stages  of  a  relatively  organized  religion 
[ih.,  pp.  158-164).  Now  gods  of  harvest  functions  have  no  peculiar  moral 
interest,  but  we  also  have  Spes,  Concordia,  Pudicitia,  Pietas,  etc.,  who 
foster  the  appropriate  qualities.  These  are  mere  spiritualized  abstractions, 
and  bear  the  same  relation  to  Hope,  Concord,  Modesty,  and  Piety  that  the 
spirit  of  an  object  does  to  the  object  itself.  But  we  also  find  that  the 
function-spirit  is  associated  with  one  of  the  greater  gods  as  his  epithet  : 
for  instance,  we  have  Fides  associated  closely  with  Jupiter.  Fides  is  the 
spirit  who  protects  the  oath ;  Jupiter  as  Deus  Fidius  is  the  god  who  pro- 
tacts  the  oath.  Public  acts  of  the  nation  are  sworn  by  Jupiter  Lapis,  in 
which  there  is  probably  the  blending  of  a  god  with  a  fetish.  While  Faith 
is  an  attribute  of  Jupiter,  Faith  has  also  her  own  cult  and  temple  close  to 
the  Temple  of  Jupiter.  In  the  same  way  Victoria  is  worshipped  as  well  as 
Jupiter  Victor,  and  Libertas  along  with  Jupiter  Liber.  As  the  tendency 
to  personify  abstractions  persisted  in  Rome,  some  of  these  epithet-gods  may 
even  be  later  in  time  than  the  gods  themselves,  but  be  that  as  it  may,  they 
illustrate  the  same  ambiguity  between  the  god  and  the  function  which  we 
find  in  the  Greek  religion.  See  Wissowa,  Religion  der  Romer,  especiallv 
pp.  22,  47,  48,  103  ff. 

2  Famell,  vol.  iv.  p.  161. 

^  Whether  religion  took  the  lead  in  this  reform,  as  Dr.  Farneil  is  in- 
clined to  think  (pp.  177,  306),  or  whether  we  should  say  rather  that  a  higher 
and  more  Inmian  religion  provided  means  of  wiping  away  a  stain  which 
lower  raagico-religious  ideas  first  imputed,  is  a  question  which  cannot  in 
this  special  case  be  definitely  resolved. 


430  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

oracle,  witiiout  having  any  idealistic  message  for  Greece,  teaches 
the  current  morality  at  its  best,  dwelling  on  moderation  and 
restraint,  insisting  on  the  inward  side  of  conduct,  denouncing 
perjury  and  breach  of  trust .^  But  beyond  all  this  Delphi  became 
something  of  a  spiritual  centre  for  all  Greece,  and  it  was  a  genial 
centre,  maldng  not  only  for  national  harmony  and  inter-stat<> 
justice  and  good  faith,  but  for  higher  civilization  and  artistic  and 
intellectual  development.  As  the  guardian  of  the  ttoAis  Apollo 
was  the  patron  of  colonies,  and  Greek  expansion  was  guided, 
if  not  stimulated  and  promoted,  from  the  spiritual  capital.^  His 
worship  made  for  the  recognition  of  the  common  Hellenic  bond, 
and  is  associated  with  the  development  of  the  method  of  setthng 
inter-state  disputes  by  arbitration  which  was  the  needed  correc- 
tive to  the  separation  of  the  Greek  states  and  is  the  model  of 
our  nascent  international  justice.  The  Delphic  religion  failed 
by  the  very  /nerpioTT^s,  which  was  its  chief  virtue,  to  raise  the 
whole  rehgion  of  Greece  to  a  higher  plane,  but  it  gave  the  sanction 
of  the  religious  tradition  to  the  workaday  morality  of  the  private 
citizen,  the  jurist,  and  the  statesman,  and  that — unlike  so  many 
reUgions — without  let  or  hindrance  but  with  actual  sympathy 
and  happiness  to  the  thinker  and  creator. 

5.  In  the  conception  of  a  supreme  god,  the  protector  of  the 
whole  or  of  the  most  essential  part  of  the  moral  order,  we  have 
come  to  the  threshold  of  a  spiritual  rehgion,  but  we  have  not 
yet  arrived  at  the  conception  of  a  moral  order  of  the  universe, 
nor  at  the  principle  that  God  is  good  of  necessity  because  he  is 
God.  The  immorahties  attributed  to  the  gods  of  pol3^heism 
are  notorious,  and  though  it  is  fair  to  urge  that  they  belong  to 
the  world  of  primitive  conceptions  wherein  the  gods  had  their 
birth,  still,  the  very  fact  that  they  are  retained  mihtates,  as  the 
Greek  philosophers  knew,  against  a  spiritual  religion.  The  gods 
themselves  suffered  punishment  for  their  wrong-doing.  Apollo 
was  compelled  to  become  the  slave  of  a  mortal,  and  a  regular 
penalty  of  eight  years  passed  without  nectar  or  ambrosia  lay 
upon  the  Olympians  who  swore  falsely  by  the  Styx.  If  the 
gods  are  interested  in  sin,  they  are  appeasable  by  sacrifice,  and 
for  occult  reasons  which  the  polytheist  never  made  clear  to  him- 
self, but  which  were  associated  with  his  conception  of  vicarious 
responsibility,  the  gods  themselves  put  the  impulse  to  sin  into 

^  Farnell,  IV.  211.  For  the  betrayal  of  the  suppHant,  cf.  the  well-known 
story  of  Glaucus  (Herodt.,  VI.  chap.  86).  Perhaps  more  remarkable  for  a 
richly  endowed  oracle  is  the  doctrine  of  the  widow's  mite  (Farnell,  210) 
and  the  depreciation  of  magical  purification  {ib.,  212). 

2  lb.,  200. 


ETHICAL  CONCEPTIONS  IN  EARLY  THOUGHT    431 

men's  minds.  The  Ate,  which  compels  a  man  to  folly  or  crime, 
is  a  curse  implanted  in  his  mind  by  that  same  Erinys  who  will 
avenge  the  deed,  and  punish  him  for  following  the  impulse 
implanted  by  herself  .^ 

6.  Meanwhile,  the  connection  of  religion  with  morals  develops 
on  another  line ;  the  misfortunes  which  follow  wrong-doing  may 
not  be  manifested  in  this  life,  but  whether  conceived  as  the 
automatic  consequences  of  the  act,  or  as  due  to  the  wrath  of 
the  spirits,  they  may  fall  upon  the  soul  in  its  life  beyond  the 
grave.  In  an  elementary  form  the  conception  of  retribution  in 
a  future  life  appears  within  the  savage  world,  and  though  in 
many  cases  it  is  probably  imported  from  civilized  religions, 
there  is  no  reason  to  doubt  that  there  are  uncivilized  peoples 
among  whom  it  has  growii  up  spontaneously.  The  normal 
theory  of  animism,  however,  conceives  the  soul  as  continuing  to 
live  a  life  comparable  to  that  which  it  enjoyed  upon  this  earth, 
and  dependent  upon  similar  conditions.  Its  well-being  depends, 
not  upon  its  own  actions  in  this  life,  but  upon  its  receiving 
proper  care  from  relations  and  descendants  after  death.  It 
must  be  suitably  buried,  properly  housed,  and  duly  fed.  And 
this  remains  the  dominant  conception  upon  wliich  notions  of  duty 
to  the  dead  depend,  even  when  other  elements  enter  in.  These 
elements  appear  in  different  forms  which  are  by  no  means  wholly 
ethical  in  character.  Sometimes  the  future  life  is  itself  a  privilege 
of  caste,  as  among  the  Tongans.^  Sometimes  the  fate  of  the 
dead  depends  on  the  manner  of  death .^  Among  the  Nairs  the 
childless  woman  will  suffer  in  the  future,  a  conception  which 
perhaps  connects  itself  rather  with  the  necessity  of  the  support 
of  the  dead  soul   by  children  than  with  retribution  proper.* 

1  Odyssey,  xv.  233,  cited  by  Leist,  p.  321.  Compare  Iliad,  xix.  87,  where 
Agamemnon  excuses  his  folly  (67a)  5'  ovk  alriSs  ei^i)  because  "  Zeus  and 
Fate  and  dark-flitting  Erinys  "  put  a  wild  infatuation  into  his  mind. 
The  infatuation  {'urr])  three  lines  lower  is  herself  a  goddess  and  daughter 
of  Zeus,  "  who  moves  through  the  heads  of  men  injuring  them  " — a  capital 
instance  of  the  interchange  between  magically  conceived  quality  and  spirit. 
At  a  later  date,  especially  in  J^schylus,  there  is  an  attempt  to  elaborate  the 
theory  of  Ate  upon  the  principle  of  vicarious  justice.  A  father  brings  down 
a  curse  which  besets  the  children  and  the  children's  children,  all  of  whom 
add  to  the  guilt  until  the  accumulated  iniquity  is  washed  out  by  a  tre- 
mendous catastrophe.  In  Herodotus  we  have  a  similar  order  of  ideas, 
but  with  a  special  stress  on  the  overweening  presumption  of  the  individual 
which  awakens  the  jealousy  of  God  and  brings  down  pimishment. 

^  Tylor,  vol.  ii.  p.  22.  Sometimes  the  dead  retain  in  a  future  life  the 
social  position  they  held  in  this  :    e.  g.  among  the  Yoruba  (Ellis,  p.  127). 

'  Thus,  among  the  Micronesians,  those  who  die  in  peace  reach  Paradise 
while  others  fall  into  hell  (Waitz,  vol.  v.,  ii.  p.  142). 

*  Reclus,  p.  159. 


432  MORALS   IN  EVOLUTION 

Among  the  Western  Eskimo  the  soul  has  choice  of  two  abodes, 
one  above  and  one  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  which  is  preferred 
as  less  inclement.  Here  dwell  heroic  whalers,  men  who  have 
committed  suicide  rather  than  burden  their  families,  and  well- 
tattooed  women  who  have  died  in  childbirth  ;  others  get  there 
only  by  crossing  a  narrow  bridge,  or  by  other  dangerous  and 
hurtful  paths.i  The  Ainu  hold  that  while  all  spirits  go  to  Hades, 
the  good  pass  on  to  the  place  of  God,  and  the  wicked  to  the  wet 
underground  world,  a  message  from  the  Creator  being  sent 
through  the  fire-goddess  to  direct  where  the  soul  is  to  go.^  Often 
the  warriors  retain  their  supremacy  in  the  world  to  come  :  the 
primitive  Norseman  continued  to  fight  and  to  feast  in  Walhalla, 
and  similarly  the  Tupinambas  of  Brazil  think  that  those  who 
have  lived  well — i.  e.  those  v/ho  have  well  avenged  themselves 
and  eaten  many  enemies — A\ill  live  in  beautiful  gardens,  while 
cowards  wiU  be  tormented.^  Generally  speaking,  the  savage 
view  of  the  future  life,  in  proportion  as  it  deserts  the  strict  theory 
of  the  continuance  of  the  present  mode  of  life,  is  ill  defined  and 
extremely  confused.  The  soul  haunts  the  grave,  and  requires 
supplies,  and  yet  it  goes  to  another  world,  or  is  reincarnated  in 
another  human  being  or  an  animal.  How  far  it  is  really  the 
merits  of  the  deceased  that  determine  his  fate  and  how  he  is 
judged,  or  by  what  method  his  sins  are  weighed  against  his 
virtues,  it  is  generally  very  difficult  to  determine.*    The  evidence 

^  Reclus,  p.  103.  Among  the  Central  Eskimo  those  who  have  been 
kind  to  the  poor  and  hungry,  and  have  been  happy  on  this  earth,  those  who 
have  been  killed  by  accident,  suicide  or  violence,  and  women  who  have 
died  in  childbirth,  get  to  heaven ;  while  murderers,  the  unkind,  other 
offenders,  and  those  who  die  of  disease  go  to  Sedna's  house  and  cannot 
leave  it  (Boas,  R.  B.  E.,  1885,  p.  590).  Among  the  Behring  Straits 
Eskimo,  those  who  die  naturally  go  to  the  underworld,  but  thieves, 
sorcerers,  witches,  are  in  some  way  uncomfortable  after  death  (Nelson, 
R.  B.  E.,  xviii.  423). 

2  Batchelor,  The  Ainu  of  Japan,  p.  236. 

'  Tylor,  vol.  ii.  p.  86.  Other  instances  of  savage  belief  in  retribution 
are  quoted  by  Tylor,  p.  93. 

*  Among  a  large  number  of  ethnographical  papers  chosen  for  ac- 
counts of  secular  custom  I  have  found  the  following  references  to  Future 
Retribution — 

In  North  America  the  Creeks  are  said  to  believe  in  future  retribution 
(Bartram,  Trans.  Am.  Efhn.  Society,  1853,  p.  27);  so  did  the  Natchez  (Le 
Petit,  in  the  Jesuit  Relations,  vol.  Ixviii.  p.  129). 

Among  the  Haidah,  murderers,  thieves,  those  who  disobeyed  the  shaman, 
were  tormented  in  the  cloud  region,  or  if  especially  bad  were  turned  into 
bears  (Harrison,  J.  A.  I.,  xxi.  p.  19). 

Among  the  Western  DenA,  while  the  soul  generally  lived  miserably  on 
dry  toads  (Hill-Tout,  Ethnology  of  North  America,  ITS),  it  would  seem  that 
virtuous  people  might  get  a  new  birth  (Morice,  Proceedings  of  the  Canadian 
Institute,  vol.  vii.  p.  161). 

Among  the  Nootka  the  world  of  souls  is  in  the  earth,  but  chiefs  and 


ETHICAL  CONCEPTIONS  IN  EARLY  THOUGHT    433 

taken  as  a  whole  indicates  that  a  notion  of  future  retribution 
arises  occasionally  in  animistic  religion  in  qualification  of  the 

good  men  who  always  pray  to  the  sun  and  moon,  go  to  heaven  (Boas, 
1890,  p.  597). 

The  Loucheux  are  said  to  beheve  in  futvue  retribution  (Hardisty, 
Smithsonian  Reports,  1866,  p.  318). 

But  of  the  Eastern  Dene  it  is  said  that  their  dim  conception  of  the  Great 
Spirit  has  no  influence  on  conduct  because  there  is  no  future  retribution 
(Ross,  ib.,  p.  306). 

The  Lillooet  thought  that  the  soul  of  a  man  who  had  not  supplicated  the 
chief,  or  danced  properly,  would  be  lost  (Teit,  Jesup  Expedition,  p.  277). 
Among  the  Ojibways  there  was  a  happy  place  for  the  good  departed,  while 
cowards  wandered  in  the  darkness  (P.  Jones,  History  of  the  Ojibway 
Indians,  p.  102).  Among  the  Omaha,  the  spirit  survives.  According  to  two 
natives,  the  old  men  used  to  say  the  good  men  go  to  the  good  spirit  and  the 
bad  to  the  bad  one.  The  whole  conception  seems  very  vague  (Dorsey, 
Siouan  Cults,  pp.  419-420). 

The  Assiniboins  are  said  to  believe  that,  when  they  get  South,  the  good 
and  brave  find  women  and  buffaloes,  while  the  wicked  and  cowardly  are 
confined  to  an  island  without  pleasures  {op.  cit.,  484-485). 

The  Mandans  also  hold  that  the  existence  of  the  dead  in  the  South 
depends  on  the  nature  of  their  life  in  this  world,  but  here  there  is  some 
evidence  of  white  influence  (p.  512),  while  the  Hidatsa  have  the  bridge 
story  (p.  613). 

The  Paressi  believe  in  future  retribution,  but  probably  under  Christian 
influence  (Von  der  Steinen,  p.  435). 

Among  the  Caribs,  in  the  seventeenth  century,  it  was  thought  that  the 
dead  would  go  to  the  Fortunate  Islands,  but  cowards  to  a  barren  island, 
where  they  would  be  slaves  (De  Rochefort,  p.  43). 

The  Padam  Abors  hold  some  sort  of  retribution,  probably  under  Hindu 
influence  (Dalton,  22). 

The  Badagas  believe  in  retribution,  and  enumerate  the  possible  sins  of 
the  deceased  in  order  to  avert  it  (J.  F.  Metz,  p.  82). 

They  also  let  loose  a  calf  at  the  funeral  to  bear  the  sins  (Metz,  and  Rivers, 
The  Todas,  p.  377).  A  calf  also  figures  in  the  Toda  ceremony,  possibly 
with  the  same  significance.  The  Toda  dead  have  to  cross  a  bridge  and  the 
bad  fall  into  a  kind  of  purgatory,  which,  however,  does  not  seem  to  have 
much  influence  on  the  people  (Rivers,  p.  399). 

The  Sonthals  hold  by  retribution  (E.  G.  Man,  Sonthalia,  p.  142). 

The  Sakai  and  Jakun  build  a  house  for  the  soul,  and  the  Semang  place 
food  and  drink  on  the  grave.  But  it  also  seems  that  the  souls  have  to  cross 
a  bridge,  where  the  wicked  fall  into  a  boiling  lake.  We  may  here  assume 
an  external  influence  grafted  on  a  primitive  continuance  theory  (W.  W. 
Skeat,  J.  A.  I.,  xxxii.  135,  138,  and  see  below). 

Among  the  Singpho,  good  spirits  live  in  the  sky,  while  bad  ones  become 
tigers  and  insects.  Iia  the  plain  the  Buddhistic  myth  of  the  bridge  across 
boiling  water  appears  (Wehrli,  /.  A.  E.,  xvi.  52). 

The  Bataks  of  Palawan  are  said  to  believe  in  future  judgment  and 
retribution,  but  this  may  be  duo  to  Christian  influence,  as  their  burial 
ceremony  suggests  continuance  (Venturillo,  /.  A.  E.,  xviii.  140). 

Among  the  Chenshu,  the  Atkoor  soul  goes  to  God  or  becomes  an  evil 
spirit.  The  Nundials,  on  the  other  hand,  are  said  to  know  nothing  of  God 
or  the  soul  (Newbold,  J.  R.  A.  S.,  viii.  277). 

Among  the  Larrakiah,  Foelsche  says  that  a  man  in  the  ground,  who  made 
the  first  blacks,  registers  deeds  in  a  book  and  requites  them,  but  this  notion 
must  obviously  be  imported  (J.  A.  I.,  xxiv.  192). 

In   West  Victoria  the  double  survives,  and  the  fire  is  kept  up  for  its 


434  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

continuance  theory,  but  that  it  is  not  the  prevaiHng  belief  at  this 
stage.     Where  found  it  is  partial — certain  special  qualities  or 

comfort  for  three  days.  The  good  goes  to  a  happy  land  and  those  that 
are  bad  to  evil  spirits  below  the  earth  ;  but  this  belief  may  be  due  to  white 
influence  (Dawson,  Ausf.  Aborig.,  51). 

Among  the  Oournditch  Mara  of  this  region,  however.  Stable  {Kam.  and 
Kur.,  p.  278)  also  mentions  future  retribution,  and  states  that  it  preceded 
white  influence. 

Among  the  Euahlayi,  there  are  three  deadly  sins  which  keep  the  spirit 
constantly  moving  in  the  lower  world,  where  all  is  dark  but  for  big  fires. 
These  are  unprovoked  murder,  lying  to  the  elders,  or  stealing  women  within 
the  prohibited  class  (Mrs.  K.  L.  Parker,  op.  cit.,  p.  78).  At  the  death  of  a 
man — not  of  a  woman — there  was  a  prayer  to  Baiamee  to  let  the  dead  enter 
heaven  because  he  had  kept  the  Boorah  laws. 

In  the  Banks  Islands,  food  is  shared  with  the  dead  (Codrington,  p.  271), 
but  here  ghosts  of  bad  character  are  kept  out  of  the  land  of  the  dead, 
e.  g.  a  murderer  by  the  ghost  of  the  slain,  and  such  ghosts,  fearing  to  go  to 
the  bad  place,  turn  back  to  earth,  eat  men's  souls,  and  are  wretched. 

In  Pentecost  Island  a  murdered  man  tells  other  ghosts,  who  refuse  to 
receive  the  ghost  of  the  murderer  (Codrington,  p.  288). 

The  Basonge  soul  (Overbergh,  Monog.  iii.  324)  goes  to  God  and  lives 
in  a  village  within  the  earth.  But  he  only  keeps  souls  who  have  slandered 
their  village,  and  others  are  re-born  after  a  few  months. 

There  are  here  about  a  score  of  instances  which  are  probably  free  from 
white  influence.  But  in  nearly  all  it  will  be  seen  the  belief  is  very  partial — 
some  particular  offence  or  fashion  being  singled  out — and  very  vague. 

I  noted  also  the  following  cases  of  continuance  apparently  without 
retribution,  without  including  several  in  which  continuance  appears  to  be 
implied  by  the  funeral  customs  but  is  not  explicitly  ascribed  as  a  belief. 

Continuance  Theory — 

Upon  the  Pacific  Coast  the  Kwalciutl  hold  that  the  dead  continue  like 
the  living  (Boas,  B.A.,  1889,  p.  847.) 

Among  the  Tsimshian  the  dead  go  to  a  place  similar  to  that  of  the  living 
(ibid.). 

The  Thlinkeet  think  that  those  who  die  a  violent  death  go  to  heaven, 
and  those  who  die  naturally  to  a  country  beyond  the  earth  (ibid.,  843). 
According  to  Swanton,  an  unavenged  man  could  not  get  up  to  the  higher 
regions ;  and  bad  persons  are  said  to  go  to  the  Ravens'  home.  But  this  is 
possibly  due  to  white  influence  (B.  B.  E.,  xxvi.  461). 

Among  the  Eskimo  of  Labrador  a  future  life  depends  partly  on  conduct 
but  mainly  on  the  manner  of  death  (Turner,  R.  B.  E.,  xi.  192). 

On  the  Thompson  River  some  souls  are  turned  back  by  guardians  from 
the  Sunset  Land,  but  for  what  reason  I  do  not  know  (Teit  and  Boas, 
Jesup  Expedition,  1900,  p.  342). 

Among  the  Hidatsa  the  soul  goes  to  a  place  for  the  dead,  where  it  receives 
the  same  regard  for  his  qualities  as  here  (Washington  Matthews,  Ethnology 
and  Philology  of  the  Hidatsa  Indians,  p.  49). 

Among  the  Delaware  the  soul  went  South  to  a  happy  land,  and  on  return 
was  born  again  (Brinton,  The  Lenni  Lenape  and  their  Religion,  p.  69). 

Among  the  Iroquois  how  far  future  pvmishments  were  recognized  is 
uncertain,  but  the  journey  to  the  South  world  certainly  required  supplies, 
whence  the  burial  property  of  the  dead  (Morgan,  League  of  the  Iroquois, 
pp.  168,  174). 

The  Shushwap  believed  in  a  happy  land  for  the  dead  (Teit,  Jesup 
Expedition,  600). 

The  Dakotas,   according  to  Schoolcraft  (vol.  ii.  p.  197),  have  no  ideas 


ETHICAL  CONCEPTIONS  IN  EARLY  THOUGHT    435 

acts  being  selected  for  reward  or  punishment — vague  and  un- 
systematic.    At  this  stage,  in  short,  the  behef  is  in  a  rudimentary 


of  future  retribution.  According  to  Riggs  (Contributions  to  Ethnology,  1893, 
p.  213),  the  soul  continues  but  its  destiny  is  obscure. 

Among  the  Blackfeet  the  souls  go  off  among  the  sandhills,  where  they 
can  be  seen  in  the  distance.  They  live  for  ever  and  their  occupation  is  to 
fight  with  the  Crees  (Wilson,  B.  A.,  1887,  p.  187).  They  are  also  said  to 
prowl  about  the  lodges,  seeking  to  do  injury  (Grinnell,  Blackfeet  Lodge 
Tales,  p.  273). 

Among  the  Kootenay  the  dead  are  said  to  go  to  the  sun  (Chamberlain, 
B.  A.,  1892,  p.  559). 

Among  the  Greenland  Eskimo  there  are  two  regions  for  the  dead  but  no 
clear  retribution.  The  mode  of  death  and  the  treatment  of  the  body 
ajffect  the  destination  (Nansen,  Eskimo  Life,  pp.  234-237). 

Among  the  Hoopa  in  California,  shamans  and  singers  at  the  dance  go  to 
the  sky;  all  others,  without  regard  to  good  and  evil,  go  to  the  underworld 
(Goddard,  Univ.  Calif.  Pub.  I.  p.  74).  Kroeber  {Religion  of  the  Indians  in 
California,  iv.  p.  346)  says  that  no  ideas  of  future  rewards  and  punish- 
ments based  on  conduct  in  this  life  have  yet  been  found  in  this  region. 
The  dead  go  below  the  world,  or  cross  the  ocean  and  are  occupied  in  dances. 
Powers,  however,  found  traces  of  retribution  among  the  Wintun  and  the 
Yurok  (Tribes  of  California,  pp.  58,  240).  These  may  very  well  be  importa- 
tions from  the  white  man. 

The  Comanches  believe  that  the  dead  go  to  a  happy  land  (Ten  Kate, 
Revue  d'Eth.,  vol.  iv.  p.  134). 

Among  the  Similkameem  the  spirits  of  the  dead  were  vindictive  and  had 
to  be  appeased  by  feasts,  but  the  soul  might  pass  into  an  animal  (Mrs. 
Allison,  J.  A.  I.,  xxi.  310,  313). 

Among  the  Shingu  spirits  retain  the  characteristics  of  this  life.  There 
is  no  true  retribution  (Von  der  Steinen,  p.  349). 

The  Karaya  dead  re-visit  the  village.  There  is  no  belief  in  retribution 
(Ehrenreich,  Veroff  Kon.  Mus.,  Band  I.  p.  34). 

In  British  Guiana  there  is  both  an  idea  of  transmigration  and  of  a  country 
beyond  the  sky,  but  no  future  retribution  (im  Thurm,  Among  the  Indians 
of  Guiana,  pp.  349,  359). 

Among  the  Guaycurus  souls  of  chiefs  and  of  medicine  men  go  to  the  moon. 
Those  of  common  people  roam  about  the  plain   (Von  Martins,  i.  233). 

The  Ges  appear  to  hold  a  continuance  theory,  as  they  dig  up  the  dead 
man  after  a  year,  tell  him  all  that  has  happened,  and  re-bury  him  (Von 
Martins,  p.  291). 

The  Araucanian  dead  re-visit  the  earth  as  spirits  (Latcham,  J.  A.  I., 
zxxix.  345). 

Among  the  Aucas  the  future  life  is  across  the  sea  in  a  rich  land  (D'Orbigny, 
Voyages,  ii.  258). 

Among  the  Mataccos  the  spirits  of  the  dead  go  to  an  underworld,  but 
if  not  buried,  wander  unrecognized  (Pelleschi,  Eight  Months  on  the  Gran 
Chaco,  p.  87). 

Among  the  Chahhata  arms  and  clothes  are  placed  in  the  grave,  but  the 
chiefs  deny  survival  and  say  that  the  custom  is  a  mark  of  affection  and 
reluctance  to  use  the  dead  '"lan's  things  (Dalton,  p.  19). 

The  Miris  provide  the  dead  with  all  the  necessaries  for  a  journey 
(Dalton,  p.  29  seq.). 

Among  the  Gojids  the  spirit  of  the  head  of  the  house  haunts  it  until  laid 
after  a  year  or  two,  and  meantime  is  worshipped  (Crooke,  II.  p.  435). 

Among  the  Oraons  men  who  are  killed  by  tigers  become  tigers,  otherwise 
there  is  said  to  be  no  survival ;   yet  rice  is  put  in  the  mouth  of  the  corpse 


436  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

stale.     In  the  higher  stages  of  polytheism,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  theory  of  the  future  Hfe  is  often,  though  not  always,  more 

and  a  coin  is  given  to  it,  and  we  are  told  they  believe  in  ghosts  (Dalton, 
p.  2-47  seq.). 

Among  the  Bheels  food  for  his  journey  is  placed  by  the  corpse  and 
afterwards  thrown  into  the  water  by  the  side  of  which  ho  is  burnt  (Crooke, 
II.  p.  50). 

The  views  of  the  Kubu  are  very  uncertain.  Van  Dongen  could  find  no 
trace  of  religious  belief  among  the  Ridan  Kubu.  In  another  tribe  they 
say  they  go  back  whence  they  came.  The  Djambi  Kubu  are  said  to  have 
no  cult  and  no  future  life.  The  Lekho  Kubu  worship  ancestors,  but  future 
life  has  no  more  moral  implications  than  things  that  depend  on  chance 
(Hagen,  op.  cit.,  pp.  143-145). 

The  Korwa  recognize  no  retribution  (Crooke,  North-  West  Provinces,  III. 
332). 

The  Orang  Bukit  are  said  to  have  no  belief  in  persistence  after  death 
(Knocker,  J.  A.  I.,  xxxvii.  293). 

The  Bataks  practise  temporary  burial  for  a  period  dm-ing  which  the 
ghost  floats  about  the  earth.  No  future  retribution  (Miiller,  Batak 
Sammlung,  pp.  12,  13). 

The  Sakai.  The  Krau  Sakai  bury  utensils  with  the  dead  but  believe  in 
retribution.  The  Bra  Sakai  also  leave  utensils  with  the  dead  but  deny 
any  future  life  and  have  no  retribution.  The  Central  Sakai  leave  the  body 
in  a  hut,  where  it  should  be  taken  by  a  tiger  (Wilkinson,  Papers  on 
Malay  Subjects — "The  Aboriginal  Tribes,"  p.  46). 

Among  the  Punans  the  dead  cross  a  river  and  there  is  no  future  retribu- 
tion (Hose  and  McDougall,  ii.  chap.  xix.). 

The  Waralido  not  know  where  the  soul  goes  (Wilson,  J.R.A.S.,\  843,  p.20). 

The  Katodis  burn  the  dead  and  know  nothing  of  a  future  life  (Wilson, 
J.  R.  A.  S.,  1843,  pp.  7,  26). 

Among  the  Australians  on  the  Swan  River  the  soul  feels  chilled,  and  so 
fires  are  lighted  after  the  burial.  If  a  man  is  killed  with  a  spear- thrust,  the 
soul  remains  on  the  point,  which  is  burnt  that  it  may  depart  (Salvado, 
J.  A.  I.,  vii.  289). 

In  N.-W.  Queensland  there  is  no  future  retribution  (W.  E.  Roth, 
op.  cit.,  p.  161). 

In  Victoria  the  ghost  would  haunt  the  relatives  if  not  avenged  (Brough 
Smyth,  Natives  of  Victoria,  I.  107). 

In  New  South  Wales  the  ghost  haunts  the  grave  and  the  camp  is  deserted 
after  death  (Frazer,  op.  cit.,  p.  83). 

The  dead  Narrinyeri  warriors  go  to  the  stars,  yet  may  also  walk  the  earth 
and  injure  their  enemies  (Taplin,  in  Woods'  Native  Tribes,  p.  17). 

Those  of  Encounter  Bay  have  a  future  life  with  Nurrunduri,  a  tribal 
hero,  but  recognize  no  retribution  (Meyer,  in  Woods,  p.  206). 

At  Port  Lincoln  the  soul  goes  to  an  island  but  needs  no  food.  There  is 
probably  no  original  idea  of  future  retribution.  They  seem  to  think  that 
misfortune  in  this  life  may  follow  misconduct  (Schiirmann,  in  Woods' 
Native  Tribes,  p.  235). 

In  Queensland  (J.  D.  Lang,  Queensland,  pp.  274-279)  asserts  a  dim  idea 
of  a  future  life,  but  no  judgment  and,  in  fact,  no  religion. 

The  Mycoolon  and  allied  tribes  have  a  place  for  the  dead  in  the  sky, 
where  they  are  looked  after  by  a  spirit  (Palmer,  J.  A.  I.,  xiii.  291). 

Among  the  Kamilaroi  and  allied  tribes,  according  to  Ridley  (J.  A.  I.,  ii. 
269),  some  say  that  the  good  go  to  Baiamee,  while  the  bad  perish;  others 
that  all  alike  go  to  him ;   and  yet  others  that  the  dead  becomes  a  bird. 

The  tribes  about  Lake  Eyre  (Ilowitt,  J.  A.  I.,  xx.  89)  say  that  the  spirit 
goes  to  the  sky,  but  that  tlie  Mura  Mura  punishes  offences  during  lifetime. 


ETHICAL  CONCEPTIONS  IN  EARLY  THOUGHT    437 

precise.     Among  the  Greeks,  one  view  was  that  the  heroes  passed 
to  the  Elysian  fields,  while  at  any  rate  the  worst  criminals  were 

Howitt  (pp.  432-434)  mentions  numerous  South  Australian  tribes  in 
which  the  dead  appear  as  ghosts  or  go  to  the  sky,  but  I  do  not  see  any  case 
of  retribution  among  them. 

In  the  Western  Torres  Straits  the  soul  wanders  near  the  body  at  first, 
then  goes  to  a  Western  island,  but  returns  at  nights  {Cambridge  Expedition, 
vol.  V.  p.  355). 

In  the  Eastern  Torres  Straits  ghosts  finally  went  under  the  sea  and  hence 
to  a  distant  land  (op.  cit.,  vol.  vi.  p.  252). 

Among  the  Batua  the  dead  may  appear,  and  are  then  appeased  with  a 
Imt  and  food.  Tliey  may  also  pass  into  the  beasts  (Hutereau,  Congo 
Beige,  p.  6). 

The  Azande  bury  amulets  with  the  dead  to  help  him  to  avenge  him^self 
{ih.,  p.  22). 

The  Banza  negroes  and  the  Bantu  of  the  Congo  hold  by  transmigration 
(Johnston,  ii.  362). 

The  Bayaka  have  an  imperishable  soul — doshi.  A  man  slain  in  battle 
sends  his  doshi  to  avenge  him.  Big  animals  also  have  doshi  [op.  cit., 
p.  641). 

Among  the  Bahuana  the  doshi  lingers  in  the  air  after  death,  visiting 
friends  and  haunting  enemies,  and  persecuting  relatives  if  the  burial  is 
not  proper  (Torday  and  Joyce,  J.  A.  I.,  xxxvi.  291). 

The  Bangala  connect  the  dead  with  the  living  by  a  tube  (p.  649)  and  the 
Mangbetu  build  a  hut  and  bring  food,  which  gives  "  pleasure  "  to  the  dead. 
Similar  customs  are  found  in  many  other  Congolese  tribes  (pp.  650-652). 
Van  Overbergh  {Mon.,  iv.)  says  that  the  Mangbetu  place  food  in  a  hut 
for  the  dead,  away  in  the  bush,  so  that  he  may  go  there.  They  comfort 
a  smoker  by  putting  a  pipe  in  his  tomb.  The  future  life  depends  not  on 
merit  but  on  rank  (pp.  359,  377). 

The  Ababua  corpse  takes  the  nutritive  part  from  the  food  set  for  it 
(Halkin,  Monographie  Ethnographique,  i.  95). 

The  Bangala  (Van  Overbergh,  Mono.  Ethn.,  i.  271)  think  that  ghosts 
may  return  and  kill  people  or  enter  eggs.  Their  view  of  future  life  seems 
uncertain,  but  there  is  certainly  no  retribution,  and  it  wovild  appear 
to  depend  on  the  status  here.  One  account  says  that  the  soul  goes  to 
Djakombu  (pp.  271-278). 

Among  the  Mayombe  (Van  Overbergh,  ii.  305)  views  of  the  future  life 
seem  to  differ.  Probably  the  ghost  remains  in  the  forests.  Gifts  of  food 
are  continued  only  while  they  are  remembered  (p.  289). 

Among  the  Nandi  (Hollis,  p.  41)  the  shadow  goes  underground  and  enjoys 
the  same  fortunes  as  in  this  life.     There  is  no  retribution. 

Among  the  Masai  the  ordinary  soul  perishes  with  the  body,  but  that  of 
a  rich  man  or  medicine  man  turns  into  a  snake,  and  looks  after  his  children, 
while  some  people  are  so  important  that  their  souls  go  to  heaven  (Hollis, 
pp.  307-308). 

Among  the  Melanesians  the  soul  continues  after  death  (Codrington, 
p.  207),  but  in  what  way  it  is  difficult  to  find.  In  some  islands  its  abode 
is  above,  in  others  below  the  ground. 

In  British  New  Guinea  the  Koita  soul  goes  to  a  mountain  and  lives  just  as 
on  the  earth,  both  as  to  rank,  character,  etc.  Their  life  seems  to  be  about 
as  long  as  that  of  their  memory  on  earth  (Seligmann,  op.  cit.,  p.  190). 

Among  the  Bora  the  dead  go  to  a  place  in  the  bush  where  food  abounds, 
but  on  the  way  an  evil  spirit,  like  fire,  intercepts  them  and  asks  if  their 
nose  and  ears  are  pierced,  in  which  case  he  directs  them  on. 

Among  the  Southern  Massim,  the  shadow  spirits  go  to  a  world 
which  is  jast  like  this  but  inverts  day  and  night.     They  are  received  by 


438  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

cast  into  Tartarus.  The  Egyptian  soul  underwent  a  regular 
trial  before  Osiris,  and  the  Mexicans  had  a  Book  of  the  Dead, 
similar  to  that  of  the  Egyptians,  giving  a  full  account  of  the 
dangers  through  which  the  soul  must  pass,  and  in  particular  of 
its  trial  before  the  Judgment  seat  of  Tezcatlipoca.^  Thus  the 
liighest  polytheism  shows  a  tendency  to  the  development  and 
systematization  of  the  vague  ideas  of  retribution  floating  here 
and  there  through  early  religious  beliefs,  into  an  elaborate 
doctrine  of  future  judgment.  The  development,  however,  is 
very  irregular.  We  find  nothing  of  it,  for  example,  in  the 
Babylonish  religion,  nor,  till  monotheism  was  well  estabhshed, 
in  that  of  the  Hebrews ;  its  place  in  the  regular  Greek  cults  is 
secondary,  particularly  in  the  earlier  period,  and  it  is  only  in 
connection  with  the  Orphic  mysteries  that  it  comes  to  occupy  a 
central  position.  In  India,  as  we  shall  see,  the  rival  doctrine  of 
transmigration  tends  to  take  its  place,  though  the  two  theories 
are  also  combined. 

7.  But  the  imperfect  morality  of  the  doctrine  of  future  retribu- 
tion is  most  apparent  when  we  turn  to  the  methods  by  wliich  sin 
is  purged  away  and  future  happiness  is  secured.  This  introduces 
us  to  a  group  of  ethical  problems  which  at  every  stage  are  treated 
in  close  connection  with  the  prevailing  conception  of  the  ethical 
basis.  These  problems  centre  upon  the  relation  of  the  imperfect 
human  being  to  the  moral  law.  By  what  internal  merit  or 
external  grace  preventing  him  does  a  man  come  to  reject  evil  and 
choose  good  ?  How  does  he  grow  in  grace  ?  When  he  has  done 
wrong  what  means  of  reconciliation  are  open  to  him  ?  These 
are  questions  of  what  might  be  called  moral  dynamics,  of  the 
forces  which  the  prevalent  ideal  of  conduct  can  bring  to  bear 
on  the  individual.  As  such  their  character  must  clearly  be 
determined  primarily  by  the  nature  of  the  grounds  on  which 
morality  is  conceived  to  rest.  At  a  later  stage  these  questions 
are  clearly  recognized  as  questions  of  moral  psychology.     We 


a  being  who  lives  there  with  wife  and  children,  and  who  assigns  them  their 
gardens  (Seligmann,  p.  655). 

The  Tube  Tube,  after  burial,  go  to  a  hill  on  another  island,  where  they 
live  like  men  (p.  C57). 

These  two  sets  of  instances,  taken  as  they  are  at  random  from  authorities 
selected  for  other  reasons,  fall  in  with  the  view  that,  apart  from  civilized 
influence,  the  theoxy  of  retribution  is  the  rarer  among  simple  peoples,  which 
is  also  vague  and  very  partial. 

^  Payne,  vol.  ii.  p.  406.  In  Yucataai  also  there  was  a  distinction  between 
the  Hnppy  Land,  where  the  pfood  men  and  virgins  went,  and  the  evil  lot 
which  befell  the  wicked  after  death  (Waitz,  vol.  iv.  p.  311). 


ETHICAL  CONCEPTIONS  IN  EARLY  THOUGHT    439 

have  now  to  see  how  they  are  treated  in  the  lower  strata  of 
ethical  thought. 

In  the  early  stages  of  moral  development  men  have,  broadly 
speaking,  two  methods  of  dealing  with  their  sins,  one  affiliating 
itself  to  the  magical,  the  other  to  the  religious  conception  of 
verong-doing,  while  as  before  the  two  are  not  infrequently  blended 
into  one.  Under  the  magical  conception  sins,  if  we  may  so  call 
them,  are,  like  other  evils,  things  that  can  byappropriate  methods 
be  purged  out  of  a  man  or  a  place  or  a  community.  They  may 
be  transferred  to  a  scapegoat,  taken  from  those  who  have  com- 
mitted them,  put  into  the  animal  or  man  who  is  to  bear  them, 
and  driven  away  into  the  wilderness  or  destroyed.  They  may 
be  got  rid  of  by  a  solemn  formula  in  which  the  wrong-doer 
repudiates  them,  swears  them  off,  while  magical  ceremonies  are 
at  the  same  time  performed  to  complete  their  destruction.  On 
the  other  hand,  where  the  wrong-doer  is  held  to  offend  some 
spirit,  the  curative  process  would  naturally  consist  in  either 
quelling,  subduing,  driving  away  that  spirit,  or  in  appeasing  and 
reconciling  it.  The  former  process  will  closely  connect  itself 
wth  magical  arts,  the  latter  leads  on  to  the  sacrifices  which  form 
the  central  feature  of  the  cult  of  the  gods. 

The  expulsion  of  evils  by  transferring  them  to  a  man  or  an 
animal  is  f-requently  performed  on  behalf  of  the  whole  com- 
munity ;  it  is  famihar  to  us  from  the  scapegoat  to  whom  the 
sins  of  the  Children  of  Israel  were  transferred  on  the  Day  of 
Atonement.  Laden  with  these  sins,  the  beast  was  driven  away 
into  the  wilderness  and  the  people  were  free.  Among  the 
aborigines  of  China  the  ills  and  disasters  of  the  people  during 
the  past  year  are  represented  by  stones  and  bits  of  iron  which 
are  placed  in  a  Jar  and  blown  up.^  It  is  not  necessarily  sin  or 
wrong-doing  that  is  thus  destroyed.  Some  Chinese  tribes  pro- 
tect themselves  from  pestilences  by  selecting  a  man  to  attract 
all  the  evil  influences  into  him  by  certain  rites,  after  which  he 
is  driven  away  from  the  village. ^  Ghosts  may  be  driven  off 
like  other  evil  influences.^  Thus  the  homicide,  even  the  suc- 
cessful warrior,  must  be  washed  to  rid  himself  of  the  ghost  of 
the  slain,  and  the  same  process  may  be  applied  to  the  weapons 
used  to  commit  the  deed.  The  purification  by  which  llic  ghost 
or  evil  influence  is  expelled  lends  itself  in  our  minds  to  an  ethical 
interpretation,  but  we  see  from  the  fact  of  its  application  to 

1  Frazer,  2nd  ed.,  vol.  iii.  p.  106.  *  ib.,  p.  104. 

'  ib.,  vol.  i.  p.  334  ff.,  quotes  the  practice  of  the  Basutos,  etc.,  and 
refers  to  the  driving  away  of  the  ghost  by  the  Arunta  alluded  to  above,  and 
to  the  taboos  placed  in  various  parts  of  the  world  upon  those  who  have  slain 
a  man. 


440  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

actions  which  the  savage  regards  as  not  only  innocent  hut  laud- 
able, that  it  is  rather  the  supposed  physical  influence,  whether 
ghostly  or  magical,  that  is  dreaded  and  that  the  purifying  rites 
have  to  remove.^  The  slayer  of  his  own  kindred  who  has  com- 
mitted a  moral  offence  will  also  undoubtedly  have  to  undergo 
purification.  But  in  this  respect  he  is  merely  on  the  level  with 
the  lauded  slayer  of  an  enemy.  Both  alike  may  be  haunted; 
that  the  one  is  haunted  for  an  act  held  immoral  is  an  accident ; 
he  is  not  haunted  because  the  act  is  immoral,  nor  is  the  act 
immoral  because  he  is  haunted.  He  is  haunted  because  he  has 
angered  a  spirit,  a  thing  which  another  man  may  do  in  the  course 
of  his  duty  to  his  friends  or  his  community.^  All  that  we  can 
say  at  this  stage  is  that  immoral  actions  are  among  those  which 
incur  the  wrath  of  spirits  or  the  breaking  of  a  taboo,  but  so  little 
is  the  moral  conception  differentiated  from  the  general  vague 
mass  of  doubt  and  fear  with  Avhich  primitive  man  views  the 
effect  of  his  conduct  upon  the  influences  that  surround  him,  that 
the  righteous  and  the  unrighteous,  the  good  and  the  bad,  in  so 
far  as  they  bring  those  influences  into  play  are  all  lumped  to- 
gether under  the  one  designation  of  that  which  is  tabooed  or  set 
apart  from  ordinary  use  and  from  contact  with  humanity.  To 
us  the  holy  and  the  unclean  stand  at  opposite  poles  of  thought, 
but  in  the  primitive  world  they  are  not  yet  distinct.  The 
Polynesian  "taboo,"  the  Latin  "  sacer,"  the  Greek  "hagios," 
are  simply  the  things  set  apart  for  the  gods  or  the  spirits,  or 
separated  from  the  use  of  man,  because  filled  "vnth  dangerous 
influences.  If  we  translate  "  sacer  "  by  our  word  "  sacred,"  we 
must  say  the  parricide  is  sacred.  Of  course,  he  was  not  sacred, 
but  he  was  set  apart  for  the  vengeance  of  the  family  god.  Simi- 
larly the  city  of  the  idolaters  devoted  to  destruction  by  the 
Hebrew  invaders  is  not  sacred  in  our  sense,  nor  were  their  posses- 
sions too  holy  to  touch  as  we  conceive  holiness.  Rather  were 
they  unclean  and  accursed.     They  were  like  the  holy  things  only 

1  After  visiting  a  grave  among  the  Ainu,  Mr.  Batchelor  was  beaten  and 
brushed  down  with  magic  wands  to  drive  away  evil  influences  and  diseases 
{op.  cit.,  p.  221).     Similar  ideas  vmderlie  primitive  mourning  generally. 

*  Compare  Frazer,  vol.  i.  p.  340  ff.  Any  alarming  incident  that  causes 
danger  may  require  purification  to  avert  it.  Thus  in  North  Aracan, 
on  the  occasion  of  a  death  by  accident,  or  through  an  animal,  or  in 
childbirth,  the  whole  village  is  tabooed,  while  the  homicide,  or  man 
wounded  by  a  wild  beast,  must  abstain  from  flesh  for  several  months 
(St.  John,  J.  A.  I.,  2seq.).  Among  the  Ngurla,  people  who  have  been 
absent  when  a  relative  dies  must  not  speak  on  their  return  to  camp  till 
they  have  stood  the  spear- throwing  ordeal  (Curr,  Australian  Race,  i. 
289).  Howitt  (p.  462)  reports  a  similar  practice  among  the  Wiimbaio. 
For  dangers  attaching  to  homicide,  incest,  etc.,  see  above,  Part  i.  chap.  iii. 
pp.  88-91. 


ETHICAL  CONCEPTIONS  IN  EARLY  THOUGHT    441 

in  this,  that  they  were  set  apart  for  Jehovah  to  do  what  he  would 
with  them.^ 

The  purification  of  the  community  from  all  ills,  physical  and 
moral,  is  often  an  amiual  affair,  and  since  it  is  necessary  that 
all  transgressions  Avhich  involve  the  possibiHty  of  calamity'  must 
be  known  in  order  to  be  got  rid  of,  it  is  sometimes  preceded 
by  an  annual  confession  of  sins.^  The  Creek  Indians,  for  ex- 
ample, held  a  ceremony  called  the  "  Busk  "  every  summer,  in 
the  course  of  which  "  all  the  men  A^ho  were  not  known  to  have 
violated  the  law  of  the  fkst-fruit  offerings  and  that  of  marriage 
during  the  year  "  were  summoned  to  hold  a  solemn  fast.  All 
impure  people  were  kept  apart,  also  fasting,  and  after  other 
ceremonies  a  new  fire  was  kindled  which  was  held  to  atone  for 
all  great  crimes  except  murder.^ 

8.  But  the  simplest  method  for  ridding  oneself  of  sins  is 
merely  to  deny  or  repudiate  them  in  the  proper  form  wliich 
the  tradition  of  the  priest  assures  the  sufferer  to  be  efficient  in 
ridding  him  of  the  load  of  guilt.  This  method  of  purification 
was  highly  developed  in  Babylonia,  and  also  plays  an  important 
part  in  the  Egyptian  conceptions  of  the  future  judgment.  In 
Babylon  there  seems  to  have  been  no  question  of  reward  or 
punishment  in  a  future  life,  but  there  was  a  very  strong  con- 
viction that  a  god  or  demon  might  be  given  an  opening  for 
attack  upon  a  man  by  any  of  his  sins  of  commission  or  omission. 
Hence  the  so-called  penitential  psalms  of  the  Babylonians  and 
the  incantation  texts  wliich  throw  so  strong  a  light  upon  their 
ethical  ideas.  It  has  been  rightly  pointed  out  that  the  peni- 
tential psalms  have  many  of  the  characteristics  of  magical 
formulae.  "  The  lapse  "  in  them  "  from  the  ethical  strain  to  the 
incantation  refrain  is  as  sudden  as  it  is  common."     There  is  no 

^  Compare  Frazer,  vol.  i.  p.  343,  etc. 

^  The  tribes  of  Guatemala  are  said  to  have  made  confession  of  sma 
(Waitz,  vol.  iv.  p.  265)  in  time  of  calamity.  In  Yucatan  there  was  a 
private  confession  followed  by  a  kind  of  baptism,  the  purpose  of  which 
was  to  remove  evil  spirits  (ib.,  pp.  306,  307).  The  Iroquois  practised  a 
public  confession  at  their  religious  festivals,  but  Morgan  considers  that 
they  had  perhaps  learnt  this  from  the  Jesuits  (The  League  of  the  Iroquois, 
p.  170).  The  conception  was  further  developed  in  Mexico,  where  confession 
was  demanded  once  in  a  lifetime,  and  penances  were  imposed  including 
blood-letting  and  fasting,  the  sacrifice  of  a  slave,  and  benevolence  to  the 
sick  and  needy ;  from  our  point  of  view  a  curious  confusion  of  barbarous 
and  moral  methods  of  winning  divine  favour.  These  penances  might  avert 
punishment  (Waitz,  vol.  iv.  p.   129). 

^  Frazer,  vol.  ii.  p.  330,  etc.  Among  the  Central  Eskimo,  the  Angakoq 
visits  a  sick  man  and  requires  confession,  e.  g.  if  he  has  worked  or  eaten  when 
forbidden,  and  if  so  atonement  is  required,  as  exchange  of  wives  or  the 
adoption  of  a  child  (Boas,  R.  B.  E.,  vi.  692). 


442  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

question  in  them  of  retribution  proper  nor  of  genuine  contrition. 
The  psalm  is  an  enumeration  of  possible  causes  of  suffering. 
The  mere  mention  of  the  right  cause  goes  a  long  way  to  relieve 
it,  especially  if  the  priest  calls  upon  the  right  spirit.  Hence 
the  length  of  the  list  of  sins,  which  is  due  to  the  desire  to  make 
it  exhaustive.  "  Speaking  the  right  words,  and  pronouncing 
the  right  name  constituted,  together  with  the  correct  ceremony 
and  the  bringing  of  the  right  sacrifice,  the  conditions  upon  which 
depends  the  success  of  the  priest  in  the  incantation  ritual."  ^ 
Here  is  an  illustration— 

"  O  that  the  wrath  of  my  lord's  heart  return  to  its  former 
condition, 
0  that  the  god  who  is  unknown  be  pacified, 
0  that  the  goddess  unknown  be  pacified. 
O  that  the  god  known  or  unknown  be  pacified, 

0  that  the  goddess  known  or  unknown  be  pacified.  .  .  . 
The  sin  I  have  committed,  I  know  not.  .  .  . 

The  sin  I  have  committed,  change  to  mercy, 

The  wrong  I  have  done,  may  the  wind  carry  off, 

Tear  asunder  my  many  transgressions  as  a  garment, 

My  god,  my  sins  are  seven  times  seven,  forgive  me  my  sins."  ^ 

It  is  in  keeping  with  the  same  line  of  thought  that  the  in- 
cantation texts  appear  as  a  list  of  all  possible  sins,  by  which 
the  patient  who  is  suffering  from  misfortune,  from  fever  or  from 
the  headache  demon,  who  seems  to  have  been  particularly  active 
in  the  Babylonian  swamps,  might  have  been  placed  under  the 
ban.  The  reciter  of  the  incantation  calls  on  the  great  gods, 
"lords  of  redemption, on  behalf  of  so-and-so,  who  is  sick,  wretched, 
or  in  trouble,  has  offended  his  gods,  spoken  evil,  despised  father 
or  mother,"  and  so  forth,^  and  he  demands  on  the  chair,  by  the 
bellows,  by  the  writing-table,  by  the  halidom  of  his  lord  and  lady, 
that  the  ban  be  taken  off.  He  calls  on  the  gods  of  the  master 
of  the  house,  the  god  of  the  sinner,  or  the  great  gods  "  as  many  as 
are  present,"  the  "  pan  of  coals — thou  child  of  Ea,"  to  come  and 
extinguish  the  sins,  transgressions  and  bonds  of  so-and-so,  and 
banish  his  curse.  The  oddly  placed  invocation  to  the  coal- 
scuttle is  a  reference  to  the  ritual  where  the  sin  or  curse  was 
burnt  up.*  In  another  process  the  table  of  sins  is  thrown  into 
the  water  .^ 

1  Jastrow,  Religion  of  Babylonia  and  Assyria,  p.  292,  *  ib. ,  320. 
^  For  the  list  of  offences,  see  below. 

*  From  the  Incantation  Table  Surpu  (burning)  (Zinimern,  Beitrdge, 
pp.  3-9). 

i  ib.,  Table  IV.  p.  23. 


ETHICAL  CONCEPTIONS  IN  EARLY  THOUGHT    443 

These  incantation  tablets  of  the  Babylonians  help  us  to 
understand  the  famous  125th  chapter  of  the  Egyptian  Book  of  the 
Dead,  by  far  the  oldest  representation  of  a  Day  of  Judgment. 
If  we  look  at  this  account  carefully  we  shall  see  that  here  again 
it  is  not  really  a  confession  of  sins,  nor  a  plea  for  forgiveness,  nor 
even  in  reahty  a  self -justification  that  is  in  question.  The  dead 
man  enumerates  all  possible  sins  that  occur  to  the  Egyptian  mind 
as  Ukely  to  anger  the  gods,  and  he  rejects  them  in  the  appropriate 
language.  Whether  he  was  really  and  truly  guilty  of  them 
seems  to  have  been  a  secondary  matter.  The  point  is  that  he 
rids  himself  of  them  by  repudiating  them  in  the  proper  formulae. 
In  fact,  the  introduction  to  the  confession  explains  that  this 
"  shall  be  said  "  when  the  deceased  "  cometh  forth  into  the  haU 
of  Double  Maati,  so  that  he  may  be  separated  from  every  sin 
which  he  hath  done,"  The  first  thing  that  the  deceased  says  to 
Osiris  is,  "I  know  the«,  and  I  know  thy  name,  and  I  know  the 
names  of  the  two-and-forty  gods  .  .  .  who  five  as  wardens  of 
sinners  and  who  feed  upon  their  blood."  Knowing  the  names 
of  these  cannibal  spirits  he  has  magic  power  over  them,  and  he 
addresses  each  one  in  turn,  repudiating  the  sins  wliich  put  him 
in  the  power  of  each  spirit.  "  Hail  thou,  whose  strides  are  long, 
who  comest  forth  from  Annu,  I  have  not  done  iniquity.  Hail 
thou,  who  art  embraced  by  flames,  who  comest  forth  from  Kher- 
aha,  I  have  not  robbed  with  violence,"  ^  and  so  on  through  a 
hst  of  forty-two  gods  and  forty-two  sins.  The  confession  con- 
cluded, he  again  protests  that  he  knows  the  names  of  the  gods, 
he  has  "  heard  that  mighty  word  which  the  spiritual  bodies 
(v.  I.  the  Ass)  spake  unto  the  cat,"  he  has  purified  his  breast,  his 
hinder  parts  and  his  imier  parts,  and  he  opens  the  doors  by  telling 
their  names. ^     At  every  turn  magical  lore  holds  the  master- 

1  For  the  full  list  of  sins,  see  below. 

'  Budge,  Book  of  the  Dead,  vol.  ii.  pp.  355—377.  In  Egypt  we  can  parti- 
ally trace  the  development  by  which  the  future  life  and  the  rule  of  tlie  gods 
in  general  became  associated  with  morality.  The  oldest  tombs  contain 
provision  for  the  continuance  of  life,  and  this  principle  maintains  itself 
against  the  doctrine  of  retribution  to  the  end.  With  it  as  equally  non- 
moral  we  may  rank  the  mass  of  magical  prescriptions  which  make  up  the 
bulk  of  the  Booh  of  the  Dead.  Now,  in  the  P\Tamid  texts  which  are  our 
main  sources  for  the  ideas  of  the  Old  Kingdom,  rites  and  formulae  predomin- 
ate and  ethical  considerations  "  play  a  very  imimportant  part  "  (Gardiner, 
Enc.  of  Eihics,  art.  "  Ethics  and  Morality — Egyptian,"  p.  470).  Indeed,  the 
kings  boast  of  violence  and  adultery  (Breasted,  op.  cit.,  p.  177).  On  the 
other  hand,  as  Mr.  Gardiner  points  out,  the  morality  of  kings  is  not  always 
exactly  that  of  lower  people  and  the  fimeral  stelae  of  the  officials  always 
record  their  good  deeds.  "  I  gave  bread  to  all  the  hungry  ...  I  clothed 
him  who  was  naked  ...  I  never  oppressed  any  one  in  possession  of  hia 
property"  (27th  century  B.C.):  and  again  :  "  Never  did  I  say  avipht  evil  to 
a  powerful  one  against  anybody.     I  desired  that  it  might  be  well  with  me 


444  MORALS  IN   EVOLUTION 

key,  and  the  repudiation  of  sins  is  itself  a  magical  formula  for 
destrojang  them.^ 

Wliere  the  religious  element  predominates  wrong-doing  is 
held  to  be  an  offence  against  a  spirit.  We  have  seen  that  it  is 
still  possible  that  the  means  of  expiation  should  closely  resemble 
those  of  magic.  The  spirit  may  be  merely  driven  away,  or 
frightened  off,  or  got  rid  of  by  deception.  But  the  commoner 
case,  particularly  as  the  spirit  develops  into  a  god,  is  to  appease 
him  by  sacrifice.  Just  as  the  sacrifice  may  be  offered  to  secure 
a  boon,  so  it  may  be  used  to  avert  wrath,  and  as  primitive 
sacrifice  is  held  by  many  modern  authorities  to  be  primarily  a 
means  of  communication  between  the  worshipper  and  the  deity, 
the  piacular  form  would  tend  to  grow  as  magical  beliefs  gave 
way  to  the  divine  governance  of  the  world,  and  calamities  were 
held  to  be  the  direct  expression  of  divine  wrath.  At  this  point 
the  value  of  the  sacrifice  became  the  essential  feature,  and  men 
gave  to  the  gods  what  they  held  most  dear  to  themselves ;  hence 
costly  hecatombs  and  human  sacrifice.^    The  eminently  un- 

in  the  Great  God's  presence  "  (Breasted,  pp.  168,  170,  etc.).  The  founda- 
tion of  these  addresses  was  the  desire  to  obtain  mortviary  offerings.  But 
during  the  period  of  the  Pyramid  builders  the  notion  of  a  judgment  arising 
apparently  from  the  myth  of  the  trial  of  Osiris  was  beginning  to  make  itself 
felt,  and  Mr.  Breasted  shows  that  a  reference  to  the  "  justification  "  of  a 
mortal  was  introduced  in  the  later  part  of  that  period  (p.  177).  Between 
this  time  and  the  Middle  Kingdom,  or  about  2000  B.C.,  the  connection  of 
Osiris  with  the  dead  was  progressively  strengthened  and  from  this  time 
every  dead  person  is  spoken  of  as  "  justified  "  (p.  256).  Finally,  we  have 
the  full  judgment  scenes  (in  which,  however,  the  magical  element  is  strongly 
maintained),  dating  in  our  earliest  copies  from  the  18th  Dynasty,  though, 
of  course,  much  older  in  its  composition. 

^  This  interpretation  of  the  Negative  Confession  is  supported  by  the 
authority  of  Mr.  Griffith  (Stories  of  the  High  Priests  of  Memphis,  p.  46). 
It  was  impossible,  as  Mr.  Griffith  points  out,  for  a  man  to  be  innocent  of 
all  the  sins,  so  exhaustively  enumerated,  but  "  by  denial  of  sin  in  correct 
terms,  and  by  magic  adjuration  of  the  heart  not  to  betray  him  in  the  scales, 
the  deceased  outwitted  the  gods,"  and  so  the  worst  cvilprit  could  escape 
punishment.  Thus,  on  the  one  hand,  the  idea  of  pvmishment  developed 
imtil  it  seemed  that  no  salvation  was  possible  for  any  one ;  on  the  other, 
"  purely  mechanical  means  were  provided,  which,  as  it  would  seem,  the 
greatest  sinner  could  embrace  with  full  assurance  of  bliss." 

In  a  description  of  the  Last  Judgment  found  in  the  Tale  of  Khammas, 
dating  from  the  first  century  after  Christ,  the  evil  deeds  of  a  man  are 
weighed  against  his  good  deeds.  Here  the  magical  element  has  receded  in 
favour  of  the  moral. 

*  See  Robertson  Smith,  Religion  of  the  Semites,  p.  394,  etc.  Of  course, 
this  is  not  the  sole  origin  of  human  sacrifice,  which  is  common  enough  from 
barbaric  times  in  association  with  the  cult  of  the  dead,  but  in  earlier 
civilizations  it  had  a  special  tendency  to  crop  out  anew  in  connection  with 
national  calamities  ;  e.  g.  among  the  Jews  and  occasionally  at  Rome.  "  A 
most  unroman  practice,"  says  Livy.  Human  sacrifice  occurred  in  Greece 
"  sporadically  "  throughout  the  historic  period,  but  the  balance  of  the 


ETHICAL  CONCEPTIONS  IN  EARLY  THOUGHT    445 

spiritual  conception  of  atoning  for  sin  by  these  means  is  one 
of  the  points  seized  upon  by  the  advance  guard  of  spiritual 
rehgion.  The  Jahveh  of  the  Prophets  desired  mercy  and  not 
sacrifice,  and  the  cultivated  Roman  saw  the  folly  and  the  moral 
levity  of  the  belief  that  the  guilt  of  blood  could  be  washed  away 
by  water.^ 

Upon  tlie  whole,  then,  in  the  earlier  stages  of  moral  develop- 
ment the  mode  of  dealing  Avitli  guilt  consists  either  in  putting 
it  away  or  repudiating  it  by  a  magical  process,  or  in  appeasing 
or  conciliating  the  gods  whom  it  has  offended.  Neither  of  these 
methods  can  be  regarded  as  ethical  in  themselves.  They  may 
incidentally  involve  elements  of  retributive  justice,  as  where  a 
penance  is  imposed  as  part  of  the  means  of  purification,  or  a 
costly  sacrifice  is  enjoined  as  necessary  to  buy  off  punishment. 
They  may  also,  where  confession  is  exacted,  have  recuperative 
moral  effect.  It  is  permissible  to  think  that  these  ethical 
elements  have  not  been  without  their  influence  in  determining 
the  form  which  expiation  takes,  and  particularly  in  a  religion 
like  that  of  Mexico,  where  civilized  elements  rub  shoulders  with 
the  most  unspeakable  barbarities,  we  seem  to  find  the  moral 
element  coming  into  prominence.  But  speaking  generally  and 
looking  at  the  principle  of  the  thing,  we  find  the  ethical  element 
but  little  developed  on  this  side.  The  removal  of  sin  belongs 
either  to  the  region  of  magical  mechanism  or  of  spiritual 
commerce. 

9.  In  the  variety  of  customs  and  beliefs  at  which  we  have 
glanced  we  seem  to  recognize  two  fairly  distinct  stages  of  ethical 
development.  In  the  lower,  the  force  behind  custom — apart,  of 
course,  from  the  physical  restraints  imposed  by  society  itself — is 

evidence  is  strong  against  the  belief  that  it  was  a  real  feature  of  the  Attic 
Thargelia  in  the  Periclean  age.     Though  occasionally  suggested  it  was 
clearly  repugnant  to  the  general  feeling  in  the  fifth  and   fourth  centuries 
.'Farnell,  iv.  208  and  275  seq.). 
^  Professor  Tylor  (vol.  ii.  p.  439)  quotes  Ovid — 

"  Ah,  nimium  faciles  qui  tristia  crimina  cosdis 
Fluininea  tolli  posse  putetis  aqua." 

In  somewhat  similar  strain  Horace — 

"  Immunis  aram  si  tetigit  manus 
Non  sumptuosa  blandior  hostia 
Mollivit  aversos  Penates 
Farre  pio  et  saliente  mica." 

Still  more  remarkable  the  epigrams  ascribed  to  Delphi :  "  Lustration 
is  an  easy  matter  for  the  good,  but  an  evil  man  the  whole  of  ocean  cannot 
cleanse  with  its  streams  "  (Farnell,  p.  212,  and  cf.  the  doctrine  of  tho 
widow's  mite,  ib.,  210). 


446  MORALS  IN   EVOLUTION 

the  fear  of  magical  influences  or  of  revengeful  spirits.  Neither 
of  these  is  of  essentiallj^  ctliical  character.  The  vengeance  of  a 
ghost  is  verj'  different  from  the  judgment  of  a  god.  It  does  not 
consider  the  rights  and  wrongs  of  the  case,  but  acts,  hke  the 
vengeance  of  the  savage  himself,  on  the  principle  of  retaliation. 
The  magical  taboo  may  be  held  to  embody  what  we  call  moral 
feehngs,  but  it  impHes  no  clear  recognition  of  the  distinctive 
nature  of  morahty.  It  does  not  necessarily  apply  to  all  wrong 
actions,^  while  it  does  apply  to  many  acts  that  are  innocent  or 
are  even  deemed  laudable, ^  as  well  as  to  numerous  acts  of  no 
moral  significance,  and  in  all  cases  its  action  as  conceived  by  the 
savage  is  what  we  should  call  mechanical  rather  than  ethical. 
Thus  the  conceptions  which  serve  as  a  basis  for  ethical  conduct 
are  themselves  devoid  of  etliical  character,  and  the  means  taken 
for  averting  the  consequences  of  guilt,  as  purifications,  incanta- 
tions, and  the  appeasement  of  offended  spirits,  are  of  the  same 
nature.  A  step  in  advance  is  taken  w^hen  spiritual  agencies 
arise  who  take  interest  in  certain  moral  acts  as  such,  protecting 
the  helpless  and  supphant  because  they  are  helpless  or  supphant, 
and  punishing  the  murderer  because  he  is  a  murderer.  In  this 
way  certain  departments  of  action  are  marked  out  in  which  a 
distinctly  religious  sanction  is  found  for  certain  rules  of  conduct, 
and  this  idea  is  generahzed  in  proportion  as  the  avenging  deities 
become  the  ministers  or  possiblj^  the  attributes  of  some,  or,  it 
may  be,  of  one  of  the  greater  gods,  who  thus  comes  to  be  an  up- 
holder of  the  moral  order  as  a  whole.  Such  a  god  will  be  a  judge 
of  men  who  rewards  or  punishes  in  accordance  with  an  impartial 
law.  As  a  judge  he  differs  materially  from  a  vengeful  spirit. 
Unfortunately,  the  conception  of  judgment  is  too  often  associated 
■s\'ith  means  of  appeasing  the  divine  wrath  in  which  very  primitive 
and  non-moral  conceptions  are  wont  to  survive.  If  the  behef 
in  a  future  Judgment  represents  the  ethical  conception  of  retri- 
bution, means  of  securing  a  favourable  judgment  wiU  very  prob- 
ably be  supphed  by  a  special  application  of  primitive  magic. 
Bearing  these  limitations  in  mind,  we  may,  nevertheless,  recognize 
at  this  second  stage  a  distinctly  etliical  element  in  the  divinely 

1  «.  g.  Theft  and  adultery.  Theft  may,  indeed,  violate  a  taboo,  but 
this  is  a  penalty  imposed  by  the  self-interest  of  the  owner. 

*  e.  g.  Involuntary  homicide  or  the  lawful  slaying  of  an  enemy.  Here 
the  distinction  confies  to  a  head.  WTiile  the  moral  consciousness  would 
allow  contact  with  the  dead  to  pollute  only  so  far  as  guilt  is  marked,  the 
genuine  magical  or  animistic  point  of  view  is  that  the  guilt  (of  homicide) 
pollutes  only  so  far  as  dangerous  contact  with  the  dead  is  involved.  The 
failure  to  differentiate  the  holy  and  unclean  which  has  been  noted  above 
may  be  taken  as  typical  of  magical  and  animistic  thought. 


ETHICAL  COXCEPTIONS  IN  EARLY  THOUGHT    447 

appointed  sanctions  on  which  the  social  order  rests.     Morality 
is  based  on  a  partially  moralized  religion. 

We  may  fruitfully  compare  tliis  advance  with  the  development 
which  we  found  in  studpng  primitive  justice.  We  there  had 
evidence  of  a  stage  at  wliich  acts  infringing  the  rights  of  others 
beyond  a  very  narrow  circle  are  not,  strictly  speaking,  regarded 
as  inherently  wrong,  but  rather  as  legitimate  occasions  for 
vengeance  to  be  inflicted  by  the  sufferer  and  his  kinsfolk  if  strong 
enough  to  do  so.  It  is  not  my  right  to  my  property  wliich  is 
sacred  at  this  stage,  but  rather  my  right  to  the  protection  of  my 
kindred.  The  personal  rights  and  duties  which  constitute  the 
elements  of  social  order  are  not  yet  regarded  as  valuable  in  them- 
selves and  deserving  of  the  general  support  of  impartial  persons. 
The  main  categorical  imperative  is  "  Stand  by  thy  kin."  Doubt- 
less the  organization  of  the  blood  feud  tends  on  the  whole  to  the 
maintenance  of  a  certain  order,  and  thus  indirectly  the  elements 
of  social  order  are  protected  by  this  same  "imperative."  But 
this  does  not  amount  to  a  direct  recognition  of  the  primary 
rights  of  person  and  property.  Putting  these  facts  together  and 
taking  them  in  connection  with  what  we  now  see  of  the  basis  of 
morality,  we  may  infer  that  moral  feehng  is  not  at  this  stage 
disengaged  on  the  one  hand  from  the  sentiments  making  for  the 
solidarity  of  a  little  group,  nor  on  the  other  from  a  prudential 
dread  of  human  vengeance  or  of  mysterious  forces  in  which  there 
is  nothing  peculiarly  moral.  Nor,  conversely,  do  the  mass  of 
feehngs  which  surround  and  sanctify  custom  directly  support 
those  rights  and  duties  in  which,  to  our  thinking,  the  elements 
of  the  moral  order  consist,  but  rather  that  mutual  aid  among 
kinsfolk  by  wliich,  as  chance  directs,  the  moral  order  may  be 
supported  or  may  be  overridden.  Above  the  stage  of  the  blood 
feud  we  saw  the  rise  of  public  justice  and  the  growing  predomin- 
ance of  the  view  that  breaches  of  the  social  order  are  wrongs  to 
be  punished  rather  than  personal  injuries  to  be  avenged.  We 
saw  how  society  became  directly  interested  in  maintaining  the 
elements  of  social  peace,  and  safeguarding  the  primary  rights  of 
person  and  property  for  members  of  its  body,  so  that  as  far  as 
the  social  tie  extends  the  simple  social  obligations  are  recognized 
as  binding.!    We  seem  to  see  here  the  emergence  of  a  more 

*  In  a  sense  the  wider  society  thus  attains  the  "  solidarity  "  which  the 
primary  group  reached  at  a  lower  stage.  But  to  represent  the  whole  pro- 
cess as  a  simple  widening  of  group  morality  by  an  extension  of  the  social 
unit  would  not  do  justice  to  the  change  involved.  Within  the  enlarged 
family  or  any  group  of  similar  dimensions  every  relation  is  personal,  and 
the  dependence  of  each  on  the  protection  of  the  whole  is  direct  and  present 


448  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

distinctly  ethical  consciousness  which  corresponds  with,  and  in 
fact  often  finds  embodiment  in,  the  higher  and  clearer  conceptions 
of  distinct  superhuman  personalities  who  judge  impartiallj' 
between  good  and  e\'il.  In  tliis  conception,  however  crudely 
and  indistinctly  worked  out,  the  "ethical  basis"  is  no  longer 
wholly  "  unethical."  Not  indeed  in  the  form  of  a  coherent  ideal, 
or  a  reasoned  truth,  but  as  a  working  rule  ordained  by  a  just  God 
the  ethical  begins  to  make  itself  felt  as  a  distinct  element  of  the 
human  consciousness.  This  emergence  constitutes  the  first  step 
onwards  in  ethical  evolution. 

The  same  development  may  be  described  from  a  converse 
point  of  view  by  altering  the  question,  and  instead  of  inquiring 
into  the  basis  of  early  morality,  asking  what  is  the  ethical  char- 
acter of  early  religion.  The  reply  will  be  that  in  the  first  stage 
we  find  that  spirits,  as  such,  are  not  concerned  with  morahty, 
though  some  spirits  by  their  position  may  be  affected  by  certain 
kinds  of  conduct  wliich  they  may  resent.  In  the  second  stage 
we  find  spirits^  whose  essential  function  is  to  preside  over  certain 
branches  of  the  law,  and  as  development  proceeds  they  become 
servants  of  gods,  who  supervise  morals  generally.  Yet  even  at 
this  stage,  gods  are  not  always,  or  necessarily,  perfect  beings ; 
if  there  are  some  who  represent  physical  and  moral  ideals,  there 
are  others  who  exliibit  not  only  the  evil  passions  of  contemporary 
men,  but  sometimes  also  the  darkest  practices  of  primitive 
humanity  wliich  their  own  worshippers  have  outgrown.  Some 
gods  are  good,  but  goodness  is  not  yet  the  essential  attribute  of 
God. 

to  the  mind.  When  several  such  groups  form  one  society,  the  first  result 
is  the  practice  of  collective  self-redress.  Wlien  this  is  overcome  it  is  by  the 
institution  of  an  impersonal  justice,  that  is  precisely  one  which  disregards 
personal  ties,  and  the  wider  society  so  established  has  a  unity  which  differs 
from  group  solidarity  because  it  ceases  to  be  directly  and  obviously  true 
that  its  members  stand  and  fall  together.  Within  it  great  divergences  of 
interest  appear,  both  between  individuals  and  groups,  and  the  unity  which 
imposes  restraints  upon  these  interests  is  one  that  has  to  overcome  the 
solidarity  of  the  group.  It  is  not  till  the  impersonal  justice  which  is  the 
basis  of  this  order  has  been  established  that  we  can  say  with  certainty  that 
the  ethical  judgment  has  achieved  distinctness  from  the  impulses  and 
feelings  which  brought  it  to  birth,  and  begun  the  work  of  framing  an  order 
in  which  feeling  is  to  be  subordinate.  Of  course,  as  long  as  any  of  the 
imreal  distinctions  of  group  morality  remain  this  order  is  not  complete,  but 
it  is  not  till  impartial  justice  passes  the  limits  of  the  primary  group  that 
it  can  be  said  with  certainty  to  have  begun. 

^  In  themselves  these  spirits,  whether  idealized  ghosts  or  personified 
functions  like  Fides,  are  rather  a  special  development  of  animism  than 
members  of  the  circle  of  the  gods.  But  though  not  at  first  identical  with 
the  gods,  they  are  a  collateral  product  of  growing  religious  thought,  and  in 
fact  tend,  as  we  have  seen,  to  fuse  with  them. 


ETHICAL  CONCEPTIONS  IN  EARLY  THOUGHT    449 

10.  In  these  early  stages  tliD  ethical  consciousness  is  still 
struggling  for  distinct  recognition.  It  is  far  as  yet  from  the 
position  in  which  it  can  dominate  the  customary  code  or  infuse 
its  own  ideal  into  the  mass  of  social  tradition.  The  morals  of 
early  society  are  therefore  still  governed  by  the  conditions  under 
which  social  life  has  arisen — that  is  to  say,  in  particular  by  the 
principles  of  group-moraUty,  in  which  the  elements  of  hatred 
and  revenge,  of  self-assertion  and  domination — in  a  word,  of  all 
the  quahties  that  make  for  success  in  strife,  are  at  least  as 
prominent  as  the  principles  of  love,  sympathy,  forgiveness, 
harmonious  co-operation,  which  make  directly  for  the  peaceable 
life  of  an  ordered  society.  Early  society,  we  might  say,  is 
founded  on  the  two  complementary  principles  of  attraction  and 
repulsion,  and  both  are  represented  in  its  codes.  True,  early 
societies  differ  greatly  in  character,  and  we  have  noted  instances 
in  wliich,  whether  owing  to  fortunate  surroundings  or  to  a  happj^ 
strain  of  moral  inheritance,  a  simple,  primitive  life  is  lived  in 
almost  idylHc  peace  and  harmony.  But  these  are  rare,  and 
such  a  character  is  hardly  at  this  stage  to  be  found  among  the 
peoples  which  make  the  deepest  mark  upon  the  world.  The 
condition  of  a  low  general  culture  favours  rather  the  tribes 
which  allow  a  large  sphere  of  operation  to  the  miUtary  instincts. 
Especially  in  the  races  wliich  are  starting  on  a  great  career  of 
influence  in  the  civiHzed  world  the  blend  of  mihtant  and  domestic 
virtues  is  conspicuous,  and  the  type  that  results,  famihar  to  us 
from  the  annals  of  early  Greece  and  Rome,  from  Hebrew  history, 
and  the  accounts  of  primitive  German  life,  is  in  many  respects 
admirable.  The  closely  knit  patriarchal  family,  the  loyalty  to 
the  chief,  the  mutual  help  of  the  Idnsfolk,  the  respect  for  woman 
qualifying  the  inferiority  of  her  legal  status,  the  sanctity  of  the 
oath,  the  open-handed  hospitality,  the  regard  for  the  suppliant 
and  the  stranger — these  are  among  the  virtues  of  primitive 
society  to  which  its  descendants  sometimes  look  back  with  regret 
for  their  relative  decline  under  the  softening  influences  of  culture. 
The  other  side  of  the  account  is  the  comparative  moral  isolation 
of  each  society,  the  ferocity  often  shown  to  enemies,  the  dis- 
regard of  human  rights  where  not  protected  by  equal  membership 
of  the  social  group,  the  permission  of  piracy  and  slave-deahng, 
the  frequent  appearance  of  barbarous  rehgious  rites. 

1 1 .  In  the  early  Oriental  civilizations  there  is  a  certain  blunting 
of  the  edges  of  the  barbarian  ideals.  Though  war  and  conquest, 
slave-dealing  and  the  imposition  of  tribute,  play  a  large  part  in 
national  life  and  political  history,  privs.tf>  ethics  are  more  con- 

G  G 


450  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

cerned  with  quiet  industrial  life  and  the  arts  of  peace.  Political 
freedom  is  gone  :  the  personal  poAver  of  the  chief  or  the  great 
warrior  counts  for  less ;  the  family  pride  of  powerful  groups  of 
kinsfolk  is  lowered.  The  ethical  codes  reflect  a  softening  of 
manners  along  with  a  certain  loss  of  the  elements  of  chivalrous 
idealism  which  mark  the  best  of  the  barbarian  world,  and  which 
are  not  yet  replaced  by  the  idealism  of  religion  or  of  humanity. 
It  happens  that  both  from  ancient  Babylonia  and  Egypt  we  have 
remarkably  full  statements  of  what  were  doubtless  recognized 
as  the  principal  moral  obligations  in  the  documents  already 
mentioned — the  Babylonian  Incantation  tablets  and  the  Egyptian 
Book  of  the  Dead. 

In  the  second  of  the  Shurpu  Incantation  Tablets,^  already 
referred  to,  the  exorcist  asks  on  behalf  of  his  victim — 

"  Has  he  offended  his  god  .  .  .  offended  his  goddess  ? 
Has  he  uttered  calamitous  things  ? 
Has  he  said  evil  things  ? 
Has  he  said  impure  things  ? 
Has  he  allowed  unjust  things  to  be  said  ? 
Has  he  made  a  judge  take  a  bribe  ? 
Has  he  oppressed  weakness  ? 
Has  he  divided  father  and  son  ? 
Has  he  divided  son  and  father  ? 
Has  he  divided  mother  and  daughter  ? 
Has  he  divided  daughter  and  mother  ?  " 

And  so  for  several  pairs  of  relations. 

"  Has  he  not  set  the  captive  free  ?  .  .  .  loosed  the  bonds  of  the 

fettered  ? 
Denied  a  prisoner  the  light  of  day  ? 
Said  of  a  captive  '  Seize  him  '  ...  of  one  who  is  bound,  '  Bind 

him'? 
Is  there  any  sin  against  a  god  .  .  .  any  trespass  against  a 

goddess  ? 
Any  violence  towards  his  forbears  .  .  .  any  hatred  towards  his 

elder  brother  ? 
Has  he  scorned  father  and  mother  .  .  .  affronted  his  elder 

sister  ? 
Has  he  given  in  small  things  .  .  .  denied  in  great  things  ? 
Has  he  said  '  yes  '  for  '  no  '  ? 

*  Zimmern  (Delitzsch  u.  Haupt,  Bibliothek.),  Beitrage  zur  Kenntniss 
der  Babylonischen  Religion,  1901,  p.  3,  Tables  II.,  III.,  VIII.  Owing  to 
their  magical  character,  as  explained  above,  the  tablets  are  full  of  repeti- 
tions, sometimes  with  slight  differences  of  phraseology,  but  the  list  given  in 
the  text  covers,  I  believe,  all  the  distinct  causes  of  offence  enumerated.  I 
have  let  a  fpw  repetitions  stand  by  way  of  illustration. 


ETHICAL  CONCEPTIONS  IN  EARLY  THOUGHT    451 

'  No  '  for  '  yes  '  ? 
Has  he  used  false  weights  ? 

Has  he  taken  bad  money  .  .  .  not  taken  good  money  ? 
Disinherited  a  legitimate  son  .  .  .  put  m  an  illegitimate  son  ? 
Made  false  boundaries  .  .  .  not  allowed  true  boundaries  ? 
Displaced  boundary,  landmark,  limit  ? 
Has  he  set  foot  in  his  neighbour's  house  ? 
Approached  his  neighbour's  wife, 
Shed  his  neighbour's  blood. 
Stolen  his  neighbour's  dress  ? 
Has  he  not  let  a  man  go  out  of  his  power  ? 
Driven  a  respectable  man  out  of  his  family, 
Divided  a  united  kindred. 
Raised  himself  against  his  superior  ? 
Was  he  sincere  with  his  lips  .  .  .  false  in  his  heart, 
Saying  '  yes  '  with  his  lips  .  .  .  '  no  '  with  his  heart  ? 
Is  it  for  all  unrighteousness  that  he  meditated, 
To  persecute  the  righteous,  to  repudiate, 
To  annihilate,  to  drive  away,  to  destroy, 
To  raise  up — to  stir  up  violence, 
To  outrage,  to  rob,  to  procure  robbery, 
To  engage  in  evil  ? 
Is  his  mouth  loose  and  obscene, 
(Are)  his  lips  deceitful  and  refractory  ? 

Has  he  committed  an  impurity  .  .  .  taught  indecent  things  ? 
Has  he  engaged  in  magic  and  witchcraft  ? 
Has  he  made  a  promise  with  heart  and  lips,  but  not  kept  it, 
Through  a  present  dishonoured  the  name  of  his  god. 
Consecrated  and  vowed  something,  but  kept  it  back, 
Presented  something  .  .  .  but  eaten  it  ? 
Has  he  angered  his  god  and  goddess  against  him  ?  " 
"  Whether  he  has  pointed  to  a  figure  with  his  finger  ? 
Whether  through  the  figure  of  his  father  or  mother  ...  he  is 

cursed. 
Through  the  figure  of  his  elder  brother  or  elder  sister  .  .  .  he  is 

cursed,  etc." 
"  Whether  he  has  wrought  wickedness  to  his  town, 
Spread  a  report  about  his  town. 
Maligned  the  fair  name  of  his  town  ? 
Whether  he  has  approached  an  accursed  one. 
Whether  an  accursed  one  has  approached  him, 
Whether  he  has  slept  in  an  accursed  one's  bed, 
Sat  on  the  accursed  one's  chair  .  .  . 
He  demands,  he  demands  " — 

The  list  may  be  completed  from  the  remaining  tables.     Thus 
Table  III.  mentions — 


452  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

"  A  curse  through  pointmg  with  the  finger  at  fire, 
Through  taking  fire  and  swearing  b_y  god, 
Through  demanding  due  instead  of  giving  it. 
Through  sitting  facing  the  sun, 
Through  tearing  up  plants  from  the  field, 
Tlu-ough  bow,  brazen  dagger,  or  spear. 
Through  slaying  3"oung  game. 

Through  stealing  up  to  a  companion  and  slaying  him, 
Through  being  besought  for  a  day  about  a  gutter  and  refusing, 
Tlirough  being  besought  for  a  day  about  a  cistern  and  refusing, 
Through  taking  a  bucket  and  swearing  by  god. 
Through  asking  any  one  about  hunting,  in  the  stable, 
Through  swearing  by  god  with  unwashed  hands  upheld, 
Through  stopping  a  neighbour's  canal. 
Instead  of  being  compUant  to  an  opponent,  remaining  inimical 

to  him. 
Through  producing  a  weapon  in  an  assembly, 
Through  interceding  for  a  sinner." 

Further,  in  Table  IV.  we  find  a  curse  through 

"  Abandoning  instead  of  protecting  manservant,  maidservant, 
master  or  mistress, 
Abandoning  instead  of  protecting  woman,  wiie  or  son." 

The  hst  of  possible  offences  would  doubtless  tend  to  grow  as 
fresh  possibihties  of  offences  occurred,  while  people  were  afraid  of 
leaving  out  anjiiliing  for  fear  of  losing  the  magical  effect.  As 
to  the  contents  of  the  code,  it  \^ill  be  seen  that  the  simple  ethical 
duties,  respect  for  hfe,  property,  and  sex,  all  figure ;  that  great 
stress  is  laid  upon  the  family  tie  and  upon  disturbances  of  the 
peace  among  relations  and  friends,  that  violence  is  deprecated, 
and  that  at  least  in  one  place,  if  not  forgiveness  of  enemies,  at 
any  rate  reconciliation  with  enemies  seems  to  be  recommended. 
Finally,  the  duties  to  prisoners  and  captives,  the  obhgation  to 
protect  the  slave  and  the  dependent  are  freely  recognized.  In 
mentioning  these  points,  however,  we  have  indicated  the  highest 
limit  which  the  code  touches. 

With  the  Babylonian  tablets  we  may  compare  the  well-known 
chap.  cxxv.  of  the  Book  of  the  Dead}  There  are  two  Confessions. 
The  first  runs  as  follows — 

^  Translations  of  this  chapter  vary  greatly.  In  the  text  I  have  followed 
that  of  ]Mr.  LI.  Griffith,  World's  Literature,  p.  5320.  The  variants  in 
brackets  are  from  Mr.  Gardiner's  article  in  the  Enc.  Religion  and  Ethics. 
The  concluding  address  to  the  gods  is  from  Dr.  Budge's  translation  in  the 
Book  of  the  Dead.  In  view  of  the  variations  of  reading  the  details  cannot 
be  pressed.  Yet  in  spite  of  the  unethical  treatment  it  is  difficult  to  suppose 
that  any  offences  considered  deadly  would  be  omitted. 


ETHICAL  CONCEPTIONS  IN  EARLY  THOUGHT    453 

I  have  not  done  injury  to  men. 

I  have  not  oppressed  those  beneath  me  (brought  misery  upon 
my  fellows). 

I  have  not  acted  perversely  [prevaricated  ?]  instead  of  straight- 
forwardly (wrought  injuries  in  the  place  of  right). 

I  have  not  known  vanity  (known  what  is  not). 

I  have  not  been  a  doer  of  mischief. 

(I  have  not  made  the  beginning  of  every  day  laborious  in  the 
sight  of  him  who  worked  for  me.) 

(My  name  has  not  approached  the  ship  of  him  who  is  first.) 

(I  have  not  slighted  C?)  God.) 

(I  have  not  impoverished  the  poor.) 

I  have  not  done  what  the  gods  abominate. 

I  have  not  turned  the  servant  against  his  master  (traduced 
the  slave  to  him  who  is  set  over  him). 

I  have  not  caused  hunger. 

I  have  not  caused  weeping. 

I  have  not  murdered. 

I  have  not  commanded  murder.  -* 

I  have  not  caused  suffering  to  men  (made  every  one  suffer). 

I  have  not  cut  short  the  rations  of  the  temple. 

I  have  not  diminished  the  offerings  of  the  gods. 

I  have  not  taken  the  provisions  of  the  blessed  dead. 

I  have  not  committed  fornication,  nor  impurity  in  what  was 
sacred  to  the  god  of  my  city.  (In  the  service  of  the  god 
of  my  city.) 

I  have  not  added  to,  nor  diminished  the  measures  of  grain. 

I  have  not  diminished  the  palm  measure. 

I  have  not  falsified  the  cubit  of  land  (added  to  nor  filched  away). 

I  have  not  added  to  the  weights  of  the  balance. 

I  have  not  nullified  the  plummet  of  the  scales. 

I  have  not  taken  milk  from  the  mouth  of  babes. 

I  have  not  driven  cattle  from  their  herbage. 

I  have  not  trapped  birds,  the  bones  of  the  gods. 

I  have  not  caught  fish  in  their  pools  (1). 

I  have  not  stopped  water  in  its  season. 

I  have  not  dammed  running  water. 

I  have  not  quenched  fire  when  burning.     (In  its  [appointed] 

time.) 
I  have  not  disturbed  the  cycle  of  gods,  when  at  their  choice 
meats  (neglected  the  feast  days  in  respect  of  their  sacri- 
ficial joints). 

I  have  not  driven  off  the  cattle  of  the  sacred  estate. 

I  have  not  stopped  a  god  in  his  comings  forth, 

(I  am  pure.     I  am  pure.     I  am  pure.)     ^ 

»  Griffith,  World's  Literature,  5320. 


454  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

After   an   adjuration    to    the    gods,  the    Second    Confession 
follows — 

"  I  have  not  done  injustice  (wickedness). 
I  have  not  robbed. 

I  have  not  coveted  (?)  (been  grasping  ?). 
I  have  not  stolen. 
I  have  not  slain  men. 
I  have  not  diminished  the  corn  measure. 
I  have  not  acted  crookedly. 
I  have  not  stolen  the  property  of  the  gods. 
I  have  not  spoken  falsehood. 
I  have  not  taken  food  away. 

I  have  not  been  lazy  (?)  (I  have  not  been  resentful  ?). 
I  have  not  trespassed  (been  neglectful). 
I  have  not  slain  a  sacred  animal. 

I  have  not  been  niggardly  in  grain  (robbed  the  loaves). 
I  have  not  stolen. 

I  have  not  been  a  pilferer  (an  eavesdropper). 
My  mouth  hath  not  run  on  (have  not  been  a  gossip). 
I  have  not  been  a  tale-bearer  (made  mischief)  in  business  not 

mine  own. 
I  have  not  committed  adultery  with  another  man's  wife. 
I  have  not  been  impure. 
I  have  not  made  disturbance. 
I  have  not  transgressed  (laid  schemes). 
My  mouth  has  not  been  hot. 
I  have  not  been  deaf  to  the  words  of  truth. 
I  have  not  made  confusion. 
I  have  not  caused  weeping. 
I  am  not  given  to  unnatural   lust.      (I   have   not  .  .  .  the 

copulator  who  was  copulating.) 
I  have  not  borne  a  grudge  (made  suppressions). 
I  have  not  quarrelled  (reviled). 

I  am  not  of  aggressive  hand  (have  not  been  violent). 
I  am  not  of  inconstant  mind  (hasty). 
I  have  not  spoiled  the  colour  of  him  who  washes  his  god  (?) 

(neglected  the  nature  of  the  god's  satisfaction). 
My  voice  has  not  been  too  voluble  in  my  speech. 
I  have  not  deceived  nor  done  ill  (done  harm  to  the  doer  of 

evil). 
I  have  not  cursed  the  king. 
I  have  not  waded  over  the  water. 
My  voice  is  not  loud  (haughty). 
I  have  not  cursed  God. 

I  have  not  made  bubbles  (?)  (been  puffed  up). 
I  have  not  made  (mijust)  preferences  (comparisons  with  myself). 


ETHICAL  CONCEPTIONS  IN  EARLY  THOUGHT    455 

I  have  not  acted  the  rich  man  except  in  mj^  own  things  (made 

a  show  with  possessions  not  nij^  own). 
I  have  not  offended  the  god  of  my  city  (thought  scorn  of)."  ^ 

Then  follows  a  further  adjuration. ^ 

"  Homage  to  you,  0  ye  gods  who  dwell  in  your  Hall  of  double 
Maati,  I,  even  I,  know  3'ou,  and  I  know  your  names  ...  I  have 
not  cursed  God,  and  let  not  evil  hap  come  upon  me  through  the 
king  who  dwelleth  in  my  day  ^.  .  .  I  have  performed  the  com- 
mandments of  men  (as  well  as)  the  things  whereat  are  gratified 
the  gods  ...  I  have  given  bread  to  the  hungry  man,  and  vv^ater 
to  the  thirsty  man,  and  apparel  to  the  naked  man,  and  a  boat 
to  the  (shipwrecked)  mariner.  I  have  made  holy  offerings  to 
the  gods,  and  sepulchral  meals  to  the  khus.  Be  ye  then  my 
deliverers." 

Not  only  are  homicide,  violence,  many  forms  of  dishonesty 
and  sexual  impurity*  here  repudiated,  but,  what  is  perhaps  most 
remarkable,  there  appears  a  strong  implied  condemnation  of 
any  conduct  causing  suffering  to  others,^  a  recognition  of  duty 
to  dependents,  and  a  claim  to  the  merit  of  positive  beneficence. 
There  is  also  a  noteworthy  repudiation  of  undue  self-seeking,  and 
in  one  place  something  like  an  insistence  on  forgiveness. 

The  skeleton  of  this  Negative  Confession  is  filled  in  for  us 
by  such  moralistic  writings  as  the  Precepts  of  Ptah-Hotep,  the 
Instructions  for  King  Mery-ke-re,  and  the  tale  of  the  Eloquent 
Peasant,  etc.,  dating  from  the  Middle  I^ngdom,  and  the  Maxims 
of  Ani  belonging  to  the  new  Kingdom .  Full  of  platitudes  as  these 
seem  to  the  modern  reader  wherever  their  meaning  is  not  obscure, 
they  appear  to  have  had  a  long  popularity  in  ancient  Egypt, 
and  they  are  of  historic  interest  as  perhaps  the  earliest  examples 
of  secular  ethics,  the  morals  of  worldly  wisdom  with  little  or 
no  reference  to  religious  sanctions ;  indeed,  occasionally  with 
a  certain  suggestion  in  them  that  this  life  is  all  we  have  and 

1  Griffith,  World's  Literature,  6321. 

"  Budge,  Book  of  the  Dead,  ii.  371. 

^  Or,  "  I  have  had  no  fault  towards  the  king  of  my  time  "  (Gardiner). 

*  The  references  to  impurity  are  not  free  from  ambiguity.  Professor 
Fhnders  Petrie  {Religion  and  Conscience,  p.  134)  regards  the  repudiation  in 
the  First  Confession  (which  he  considers  to  be  the  oldest)  as  dealing  only 
with  a  violation  of  the  sacred  precinct,  while  in  the  Second  Confession  he 
distinguishes  three  repudiations  of  adultery  (19),  of  mtipitrity  (20),  and 
unnatural  lust  (27).  Max  Miiller,  however  [Liebespoesie,  p.  17),  understands 
tlie  reference  to  impurity  as  a  repudiation  of  the  use  of  love  philters.  On 
the  whole,  it  seems  unlikely  that  fornication  as  such  is  one  of  the  forty-two 
sins  (cf.  Gardiner,  Enc.  Ethics,  p.  482). 

*  The  references  to  animals  are  obscure  and  can  hardly  be  pressed.  They 
seem  to  have  magical  or  religious  rather  than  a  humanitarian  purport. 


456  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

we  had  best  make  the  most  of  it.  The  tendency  of  both  Ptah- 
Hotep  and  Ani  is  to  recommend  a  certain  mildness  and  modera- 
tion of  temper,  restraint  in  language  and  in  social  intercourse, 
prudence  and  energy  in  the  conduct  of  one's  own  affairs,  a 
strenuous  minding  of  one's  own  business  and  avoidance  of  gossip, 
a  prudent  bending  to  superiors  and  an  equally  wise  moderation 
in  deahng  with  those  of  lower  estate,  a  generally  diffused  good- 
nature and  reasonableness — all  as  means  whereby  man  prospers 
in  this  world  and,  perhaps,  in  the  Valley  of  the  Dead  as  well. 
"  It  is  the  modest  C?)  that  obtain  wealth ;  never  did  the  greedy 
(?)  arrive  at  their  aim,"  says  the  optimistic  Ptah-Hotep.  "  Make 
not  terror  among  men.^  God  punisheth  the  like  .  .  .  Never 
did  violence  among  men  succeed."  ^  Again,  "  Beware  of  any 
covetous  aim.  That  is  as  the  painful  disease  of  cohc.  He 
who  entereth  on  it  is  not  successful.  It  embroileth  fathers 
and  mothers  with  the  mother's  brothers,  it  separateth  wife  and 
husband  ...  A  man  liveth  long  whose  rule  is  justice."  ^  In  the 
same  spirit  the  pupil  is  to  keep  from  relations  with  the  women 
in  the  house  which  he  enters,  but  be  kind  to  a  woman  if  he  has 
made  her  ashamed.  He  should  avoid  scandal  and  gossip.*  He 
should  prefer  gentle  to  violent  methods.  "  Greater  is  the  prayer 
to  a  kindly  person  than  force."'  He  should  avoid  presumption. 
"  Raise  not  thy  heart  lest  it  be  cast  down."  ^  If  successful  he 
should  avoid  niggardhness.  If  a  chief  or  great  officer,  he  should 
do  justice,  and  be  considerate  and  attentive  to  suitors.  If  an 
inferior,  "  Bend  thy  back  to  thy  chief,  thy  superior  of  the  king's 
house,  on  whose  property  thy  house  dependeth  .  .  .  it  is  ill  to  be 
at  variance  with  the  chief.  One  liveth  only  while  he  is  gracious."  ' 
But  to  friends,  "  Let  thy  face  be  shining  the  time  that  thou 
hast  .  .  .  The  remembrance  of  a  man  is  of  his  kindliness  in  the 
years  after  the  staff  (of  power  ?)."  ^  Or  as  Ani  puts  it,  "  Eat 
not  bread  while  another  standeth  by  .  .  .  The  one  is  rich  and  the 
other  poor,  and  bread  remaineth  to  him  who  is  open-handed. 
He  who  was  prosperous  last  year  even  in  this  may  be  a  vagrant."* 

1  This  is  taken  by  Mr.  Griffith  ( World's  Literature,  6332)  as  referring  to 
the  occupations  of  brigandage  and  pillage.  It  is  rather  a  faint  condem- 
nation. Others  understand  it  as  a  counsel  against  associating  with  the 
slave  of  another. 

-  Ptah-Hotep,  sec.  6.     Tr.  Griffith,  World's  Literature,  5332. 

*  ib.,  sec.  19. 

*  Flinders  Petrie,  Religion  and  Conscience,  117  =  Ani,  sec.  16. 
'  ib.,  155  =  Pfcah-Kotep,  sec.  20. 

«  *.,  143  =  Ptah-Hotep,  sec.  25. 
'  ib.,  150,  154  ==  Ptah-Hotep,  30,  31. 

•  ib.,  141,  143  =  Ptah-Hntep,  34. 

•  ib.,  154  =  Ani,  41;   Griffitli,  World's  Literature,  5341. 


ETHICAL  CONCEPTIONS  IN  EARLY  THOUGHT    457 

By  attending  to  Ani's  maxims  you  will  reach  an  honoured  old  age, 
and  be  ready  for  death  however  suddenly  it  comes. ^ 

There  is  much  of  kindliness,  much  of  social  good-nature,  much 
of  prudent  moderation,  something  of  self-rehance  and  dignity, 
but  "  there  is  hardly  a  single  splendid  feeling ;  there  is  not  one 
burst  of  magnanimous  sacrifice ;  there  is  not  one  heartfelt  self- 
depreciation  in  any  point  of  all  that  worldly  ^\isdom."  ^ 

A  somewhat  higher  note  is  struck  in  such  literary  pieces  of  the 
IVIiddle  Kingdom  as  the  "  Eloquent  Peasant."  This  is  in 
effect  a  bitter  satire  on  the  indifference  of  ofificial  justice  and  a 
sustained  plea  for  redress  running  the  whole  gamut  from  lauda- 
tion of  the  judge  as  the  implement  of  eternal  justice  to  the 
threat  of  suicide  and  appeal  to  the  lord  of  the  dead  if  retribution 
is  withheld. 

"  Do  justice  for  the  sake  of  the  lord  of  justice  .  .  .  for  justice 
(or  righteousness,  right,  truth  ^)  is  for  eternity.  It  descends  with 
him  that  doeth  it  into  the  grave  .  .  .  His  name  is  not  effaced  on 
earth,  he  is  remembered  because  of  good.  Such  is  the  exact 
summation  of  the  divine  word,"  * 

The  peasant  has  been  compared  to  a  Hebrew  prophet,  and 
in  the  passion  of  his  denunciation  he  is  their  forerunner.  But  it 
is  hardly  correct  to  speak  of  him  as  a  pleader  for  social  justice. 
It  is  judicial  indifference  that  he  is  satirizing,  not  the  subtler 
and  more  far-reaching  forms  of  social  wrong.^  He  reflects  the 
same  feeHng  for  legal  uprightness  which  invented  or  cherished  the 
tradition  of  a  judge  of  the  Old  Kingdom  who  always  gave  deci- 
sions against  any  member  of  his  own  family  for  fear  of  seeming 
parti ahty,  and  the  higher  view  of  the  Middle  Kingdom  which 
rebuked  such  discrimination  :  "  Now  this  is  more  than  justice."  ^ 
We  see,  however,  in  these  writings  a  more  genuine  association  of 
rehgion  with  ethics  than  that  of  the  Hall  of  Osiris,  and  we  find 
traces  of  the  same  advance  in  the  Instructions  for  King  Mery- 
ke-re  which  have  already  been  quoted  for  their  incipient  mono- 
theism. "  How  hath  he  (Re)  slain  the  fro  ward  of  heart  ?  Even 
as  a  man  smiteth  his  son  for  his  brother's  sake.    For  God  knows 

1  Flinders  Petrie,  129  =  Ani,  15. 

2  ib.,  162. 

^  Gardiner's  rendering  is  Wahrheit  (Die  Klage  des  Bauern,  p.  14). 

*  Breasted,  p.  224;  Gardiner,  loc.  cit. 

*  The  complaints  of  Ipnever  (Gardiner,  Admonitions  of  an  Egyptian 
Sage;  Breasted,  p.  204,  etc.)  may  refer  to  a  real  state  of  social  anarchy  but 
are  rather  like  the  grumbling  of  some  one  who  has  had  misfortunes  against 
the  nonveatix  riches.  The  burden  of  the  complaint  is  that  he  who  was 
a  serf  now  has  serfs,  while  the  well-to-do  man  is  hungry. 

«  Breasted,  242. 


458  MORALS  IN   EVOLUTION 

every  name."  "More  acceptable  is  the  nature  of  one  just  of 
heart  than  the  ox  of  him  who  doeth  iniquity  "^ — a  really  notable 
anticipation  of  "  I  will  have  mercy  and  not  sacrifice."  So,  too, 
earlier  in  the  document  we  read :  "  Do  justice  that  thou  mayst 
endure  upon  earth.  Calm  the  weeper.  Oppress  not  the  widow.'* 
But  a  terrible  bathos  follows  :  "  Slaughter  not,  for  it  does 
not  profit  thee,"  or,  perhaps,  "  unless  it  profit  thee."  Such  a 
transition  warns  us  against  large  conclusions  from  exceptional 
traces  of  idealism.  On  the  whole,  as  the  Egyptian  rehgion  was 
pro-spiritual,  so  Egyptian  morality  was  that  of  common-sense 
moderation.     Idealism  exists  only  in  a  few  germs. 

The  chivalry  of  barbarism  is  gone,  and  the  idealisms  of  religion 
and  of  humanity  have  not  yet  come.  To  the  rise  of  such  idealism 
we  must  now  turn. 

*  Gardiner,  Journ.  Eg.  Arch.,  Jan.  1914,  p.  34. 


CHAPTER   in 

THE   WORLD    AND    THE    SPIRIT 

1.  The  growth  of  reflection  has  in  many  races  and  under 
divers  conditions  of  culture  carried  mankind  bej^ond  the  stage 
of  Polytheism.  The  awakening  reason  demands  a  theory  of  the 
universe  and  ceases  to  be  satisfied  with  the  patchwork  schemes 
of  mythology.  The  moral  self  coming  to  partial  consciousness 
of  its  nature  and  scope  demands  a  higher  rule  of  life  and  a 
deeper  understanding  of  its  relation  to  cosmic  forces.  Instead 
of  inventing  stories  about  the  beginning  of  things  and  the  origin 
of  laws,  the  mind  begins  to  search  for  the  general  truths  under- 
lying or  permeating  experience  and  giving  unity  and  meaning 
to  human  purposes.  The  forward  step  achieved  by  thought  in 
this  movement  may  be  described  by  saying  that  the  imagery 
of  its  earlier  stage  is  replaced  by  defined  and  reasoned  con- 
ceptions formed  by  the  analysis  and  reconstruction  of  primi- 
tive ideas.  Though  first  applied  with  positive  success  in  the 
special  sciences,  and  particularly  in  the  sciences  of  number 
and  quantity,  the  ambition  of  conceptual  thought  is  always  to 
frame  a  theory  of  the  universe  and  an  ideal  of  life  and  character. 
And  fail  as  it  may  in  its  attempts  at  final  truth,  a  deeper  religion 
and  a  higher  ethics  are  the  outcome  of  each  new  effort. 

The  lines  on  which  these  efforts  proceed  are  very  various. 
We  have  already  seen  the  beginnings  of  a  tendency  to  trace 
the  scheme  of  things  to  a  single  principle,  or  at  any  rate  to  a 
first  cause,  in  the  attempts  of  polytheism  to  treat  the  many  gods 
as  different  incarnations  or  emanations  of  one  and  the  same 
Being.  But  this  tendency  does  not  always  lead  to  monotheism. 
On  the  contrary,  great  rehgious  systems  have  arisen  in  which, 
as  in  Brahmanism,  the  movement  is  rather  towards  pantheism 
than  to  monotheism,  and  the  unity  of  God  is  an  uncertain  con- 
ception waveringly  held  and  admitting  of  compromise  with  the 
polytheistic  traditions.  There  are  religions  like  Buddhism,  again, 
in  which  the  whole  theological  aspect  of  religion  is  secondary,  and 
the  central  conception  is  that  of  a  necessary  law  of  cosmic  life 
by  which  human  life  in  particular  is  determined  and  to  which 
human  beings  must  adjust  themselves.     Or  finally,  as  in  Taoism, 

459 


460      .  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

the  supreme  principle  of  things  may  be  left  undefined  as  some- 
tliing  that  we  experience  in  ourselves  if  we  throw  ourselves 
upon  it,  but  which  we  know  rather  by  following  or  Hving  in  it 
than  by  any  process  of  ratiocination.  This  mystical  interpreta- 
tion is  not  confined  to  Taoism,  but  in  one  form  or  another  lies 
near  at  hand  to  all  spiritual  religions,  and  expresses  one  mode 
of  the  religious  consciousness,  its  aspiration  to  reach  the  heart  of 
things  and  its  confidence  that  it  has  done  so  and  found  rest 
there. 

Widely  as  these  forms  of  religion  differ  from  monotheism, 
they  may  for  certain  purposes  be  grouped  along  with  it.  All 
are  or  are  on  the  way  to  become  spiritual  rehgions,  resting  on 
and  involving  a  certain  ethical  ideahsm,  and  that  power  of 
handling  conceptions  which  we  take  to  imply  a  distinct  stage 
onward  in  the  growth  of  thought.  For  in  the  spiritual  rehgions 
there  is  an  endeavour  to  render  an  articulate  account  of  the 
universe,  of  the  world  process  as  a  whole,  of  man's  place  therein 
and  the  duties  which  it  imposes  on  him.  But  this  attempt 
cannot  even  be  entered  upon  seriously  until  certain  fundamental 
conceptions  are  formed  with  tolerable  distinctness.  The  con- 
trasts of  the  permanent  and  the  changing,  of  substance  and 
attributes,  of  cause  and  accident,  of  reahty  and  appearance, 
of  the  eternal  and  the  transitory,  of  the  universal  and  the 
individual,  of  divine  and  human  personality — such  antitheses 
present  themselves  with  greater  or  less  articulateness  in  all 
attempts  to  think  out  the  problem  of  the  universe.  What  is 
common  to  all  products  of  this  stage  of  thought,  and  what 
differentiates  them  from  the  work  of  lower  stages,  is  that  in 
these  the  fundamental  conceptions  involved  in  any  attempt  to 
render  the  whole  scheme  of  things  in  systematic  fashion  have 
definitely  been  brought  into  consciousness.  The  rehgions  of 
tliis  stage  are  all  conceptual  rehgions  rising  above  mere  imagery, 
and  handling,  as  distinct  objects  of  thought,  categories  which  at 
a  lower  stage  are  still  wrapped  up  in  the  experiences  in  which 
they  are  given  to  the  senses .^ 

1  The  emergence  of  these  fundamental  conceptions  into  clear  conscious- 
ness is  to  be  regarded  as  the  result  of  a  long  process  of  development.  In 
chap.  i.  we  traced  the  growth  of  the  mind  to  the  point  at  which  concrete 
images  or  picture  ideas  could  be  distinctly  formed  and  held  apart.  But 
such  ideas  are  not  yet  fitted  for  systematic  thinking.  They  have  to  be 
further  broken  up  and  re-combined,  so  as,  in  the  first  place,  to  become 
exact,  and  applied  always  with  the  same  meaning  (as  "  universal  "  instead 
of  "  general  ").  Next,  the  elements  that  lie  within  an  idea  or  go  to 
constitute  its  character  must  be  distinguishable,  so  that  the  differences 
which  constitute  a  specific  development  of  a  general  rule,  or  the  blended 
identities   and    differences    which    constitute    co-ordinate   genera   can    be 


THE   WORLD  AND  THE  SPIRIT  461 

They  are  also  spiritual  religions,  having  at  their  best  certain 
ethical  conceptions  in  common.  Wc  have  seen  that  the 
characteristic  of  the  lowest  rehgions  is  that  their  "  spirits  "  are 
"  unspiritual."  They  are  not  even  differentiated  from  matter. 
They  blur  and  confound  the  distinction  of  good  and  evil,  holy 
and  unclean,  intelligent  purpose  and  mechanical  action.  In  the 
stage  now  reached  these  confusions  are  in  large  measure  over- 
come. The  spiritual  draws  itself  together  and  is  presented  in 
antithesis  to  the  sensual  and  the  earthly  as  the  source  of  all 
light  within  man  and  without.  The  spiritual  is  opposed  to  the 
sensible  world,  the  spirit  in  man  to  his  grosser  elements,  as  the 
underlying  spring  of  what  is  good  and  wise  and  beautiful,  and 
as  the  bond  that  connects  him  with  the  sources  of  all  that  he 
finds  of  goodness  and  wisdom  and  beauty  in  the  order  of  things. 
Finally,  with  this  conception  of  spirituahty  a  distinct  set  of 
ethical  conceptions  is  connected.  The  individual  must  enter 
into  relations  with  the  universal  spirit,  and  to  do  so  he  must 
put  off  his  individuahty.  He  must  subdue  the  senses,  and  not 
only  the  senses,  but  all  things  that  make  for  his  own  self-asser- 
tion and  hinder  his  perfect  communion  with  the  spiritual  world. 
Pride  must  give  place  to  humihty,  resentment  to  forgiveness, 
the  narrow  love  of  kinship  to  universal  benevolence,  family 
life  to  the  selfless  impersonal  brotherhood  of  monasticism. 
For  the  spirit  is  not  yet  of  this  world.  The  first  step  towards 
realizing  it  is  to  conceive  it  by  contrast  to  common  workaday 
experiences.  To  understand  how  it  may  transform  experience, 
to  bring  it  back  to  earth  without  losing  its  warmth  and  glow 
upon  the  downward  journey,  is  the  unfulfilled  task  of  a  higher 
mode  of  thought. 

2.  The  spiritual  rehgions  have  their  home  in  the  East.  Pro- 
bably the  earhest  in  point  of  time  —  though  dates  are  very 
uncertain  —  is  the  imperfectly  spirituahzed  system  of  the 
Brahmans.  It  is  impossible,  however,  even  to  touch  upon 
Brahmanism  without  saying  one  word  upon  the  preceding  stages 

assigned.  When  this  is  done  the  idea  is  transformed  into  the  concept,  and 
the  loose  thought-transitions  by  which  images  suggest  one  another  are 
superseded  by  systematic  meditation,  reasoning  and  discussion,  whereby 
concepts  are  analyzed  or  combined  and  consequences  logicaHy  inferred 
from  premises.  Fallacious  and  genuine  methods  are  distinguished,  and 
thus  the  old  confusion  of  idea  and  fact  which  made  the  world  of  make- 
believe  is  in  principle  overcome.  On  the  other  hand,  in  the  early  stages, 
the  methods  of  testing  the  original  value  of  the  conceptions  employed  by 
a  scientific  analysis  of  experience  is  little  understood,  and  there  is  accord- 
ingly a  tendency  to  construct  thought-fabrics  which  nowhere  touch  solid 
earth. 


462  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

of  Hindu  thought.  The  earhcst  phase  of  Hindu  culture  known 
to  us,  that  of  the  Vedas,  resembles  in  essentials  the  culture  of 
the  Homeric  age,  and,  generally  speaking,  it  has  all  the  charac- 
teristics of  a  barbaric  society,  wliich  is  destined  to  develop  into 
something  liigher.  Family  life  is  in  the  patriarchal  stage ;  the 
father  is  master  of  wife,  children  and  slaves.  There  is  no  caste 
as  yet,^  but  there  is  a  strong  distinction  between  the  fair- 
skinned  conquering  Aryans  and  the  subject  dark-skinned  Dasyus. 
The  gods  of  the  Vedas  are  great  gods,  controlling  the  forces  of 
nature,  who  may  rank  with  any  of  the  leading  deities  of  Poly- 
theism. Indra  is  a  man  of  war  like  Jahveh  or  Asiiur.  He  is 
the  special  protector  of  the  Arya — "  uielding  the  thunderbolt,  and 
confident  in  his  prowess  he  strode  onwards,  shattering  the  cities 
of  the  Dasyus  .  .  .  chastising  the  lawless  he  subjected  the 
black  skin  to  Manu  "  (the  white  Aryan).^  Neither  the  power 
nor  the  moral  attributes  of  the  deity  are  conceived  with  more 
consistency  or  clearness  than  in  other  polytheistic  schemes. 
Indra  is  said  to  have  created  or  lighted  up  Ushas.  But  in 
other  hymns  he  crushes  her  chariot  with  his  thunderbolt,  and 
this  smiting  of  "  a  woman  who  was  bent  on  evil  " — elsewhere 
the  recipient  of  prayer — is  extolled  as  a  "  deed  of  might  and 
manliness."^  Even  in  the  Mahabharata  and  the  Puranas, 
"  Indra,  Varuna  and  other  gods  "  are  represented  "  as  leading 
a  sensual  and  immoral  life,"  and  "  the  Apsarases  or  celestial 
nymphs  are  expressly  declared  to  be  courtesans  .  .  .  and  are 
represented  as  being  sent  by  the  gods  from  time  to  time  to 
seduce  austere  sages  into  unchastity."^  S'rl  is  described  as 
issuing  forth  from  Prajapati.  "  Beholding  her  thus  standing 
resplendent  and  trembling,  the  gods  were  covetous  of  her  and 
proposed  to  Prajapati  that  they  should  be  allowed  to  kill  her 
and  appropriate  her  gifts  " — a  genuine  magical  conception  of 
the  transference  of  powers.  "  He  replied  that  she  was  a  female 
and  that  males  did  not  generally  kill  females.  They  should, 
therefore,  take  from  her  her  gifts  without  depriving  her  of  life."^ 
The  chivalry  of  the  gods  did  not  go  beyond  respect  for  life,  it 
appears.  The  gods,  it  is  true,  release  from  sin,  but  sin  appears 
to  be  conceived  as  a  quasi-magical  bond,  and  the  sin  of  the 
father  is  regularly  visited  on  the  children.^     Virtues,  however, 

1  See  above.  Part  i.  chap.  vii.  ^  Muir,  Sanskrit  Texts,  vol.  v.  p.  113. 

3  «6.,  vol.  V.  p.  192. 

4  ib.,  pp.  323,  321;  cf.  also  p.  115.  ^  ib.,  p.  349. 

*  See  Max  Miiller,  Rig  Veda,  i.  244,  245,  etc.  :  "  Absolve  us  from  the 
sins  of  our  fathers  and  from  those  which  we  have  committed  with  our 
own  bodies.  Release  Vasishtha,  O  king,  like  a  thief  who  has  feasted  on 
stolen  cattle;  release  him  like  a  calf  from  the  rope."     Cf.  also  Rig  Veda, 


THE   WORLD   AND  THE  SPIRIT  463 

recommend  men  to  the  gods,  and  especially  liberality  conduces 
to  prosperity.  "  He  is  the  bountiful  man  who  gives  to  the  lean 
beggar  who  comes  to  him  craving  food.  Success  attends  that 
man  in  the  sacrifice  and  he  secures  for  himself  a  friend  in  the 
future."^  The  conception  of  the  divine  power  fluctuates  no 
less  than  in  other  polytheistic  religions.  On  the  one  side,  it 
tends  towards  monotheism  in  the  form  of  attributing  supreme 
position  to  whichever  deity  is  the  immediate  object  of  worship — 
Indra,  Varuna,  or  another.  At  times  with  less  of  naivete  and 
more  of  dehberate  pantheistic  feehng,  we  find  it  laid  do'VvTi  that 
one  god  is  or  includes  all  the  rest.  "  Aditi  is  the  sky,  Aditi  is 
the  air,  Aditi  is  the  mother  and  father  and  son,  Aditi  is  all  the 
gods  and  the  five  classes  of  men.  Aditi  is  whatever  has  been 
born,  Aditi  is  whatever  shall  be  born."^  We  even  get  a  distinct 
attempt  at  a  true  speculative  account  of  the  beginning  of  things. 

"  There  was  then  neither  nonentity  nor  entity;  there  was  no 
atmosphere,  nor  sky  above.  What  enveloped  (all)  ?  Where,  in 
the  receptacle  of  what  (was  it  contained)  ?  Was  it  water,  the  pro- 
found abyss  ?  Death  was  not  then,  nor  immortality ;  there  was 
no  distinction  of  day  or  night.  That  One  breathed  calmly,  self- 
supported ;  there  was  nothing  different  from,  or  above,  it.  In  the 
beginning,  darkness  existed,  enveloped  in  darkness.  All  this 
was  undistinguishable  water.  .  .  .  From  what  this  creation 
arose,  and  whether  (any  one)  made  it  or  not, — he  who  in  the 


vii.  86,  quoted  in  Muir,  p.  66,  where  the  poet  naively  explains,  "  It  was 
not  our  will,  Varuna,  but  some  seduction  which  led  us  astray — wine, 
anger,  dice,  or  thoughtlessness.  The  stronger  perverts  the  weaker.  Even 
sleep  occasions  sin." 

^  Rig  Veda,  x.  117,  quoted  in  Muir,  pp.  431,  432.  The  notion  of  future 
reward  appears  in  the  Veda  alongside  of  a  more  primitive  view.  He  who 
cooks  the  vishtarin  oblation  "  goes  to  the  gods,  and  lives  in  blessedness 
with  the  Gandharvas,  chs  quaffers  of  soma.  Yama  does  not  steal  away  the 
generative  power  of  those  who  cook  the  vishtarin  cblation"  (ib.,  p.  308). 
Here  the  question  of  oblations  is  most  prominent.  Elsewhere  we  read  of 
heroic  deeds,  austerities  and  sage  meditations,  as  contributing  to  bliss. 

"  Let  him  (the  deceased)  depart  to  those  for  whom  the  honied  beverage 
flows.  Let  him  depart  to  those  who,  through  rigorous  abstraction,  are 
invincible,  who,  through  tapas,  have  gone  to  heaven ;  to  those  who  have 
performed  great  tapas.  Let  him  depart  to  the  combatants  in  battles,  to 
the  heroes  who  have  there  sacrificed  their  lives,  or  to  those  who  have 
bestowed  thousands  of  largesses.  Let  him  depart,  Yama,  to  those  austere 
ancient  Fathers  who  have  practised  and  promoted  sacred  rites  "  (Muir, 
Sanskrit  Texts,  vol.  v.  p.  310). 

Lastly,  in  Rig  Veda,  iv.  5.  5,  there  is  a  reference  to  some  sort  of  punish- 
ment. "  This  deep  abyss  has  been  produced  (for  those  who),  being  sinners 
false,  untrue,  go  about  like  women  without  brothers,  like  wicked  females 
hostile  to  their  husbands  "  (Muir,  Sanskrit  Texts,  v.  312). 

*  Muir,  v.  351,  354. 


464  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

highest  heaven  is  its  ruler,  he  verily  knows,  (or  even)  he  does  not 
know.  .  .  .  That  One  which  lay  void,  and  wrapped  in  nothing- 
ness, was  developed  by  the  power  of  fervour."  ^ 

On  the  other  side,  the  divine  power  is  animistically  or  magically 
conceived.  The  gods  are  held  to  be  nourished  by  food,  to  be 
produced  from  other  beings,  to  sacrifice  and  to  be  sacrificed.  In 
one  hymn  Visvakarman  is  said  to  sacrifice  himself  or  to  himself, 
and  he  offers  up  heaven  and  earth.  In  another,  it  appears 
that  the  gods  sacrificed  to  the  supreme  god  or  that  they  offered 
him  up.2  Sacrifice  is  still  a  magic  process  from  which  the 
gods  derive  strength.  Its  materials  and  implements  themselves 
become  deities  and  so,  too,  do  prayers  and  hymns,  the  Vedas 
themselves,  and  the  priests  who  control  these  powers.^  The 
Brahmanic  sage  ranks  with  the  gods.* 

3.  Before  tracing  the  outcome  of  the  Vedic  reHgion  in  India 
we  must  glance  at  the  parallel  development  in  ancient  Iran. 
Springing  from  the  same  stock  as  the  Aryan  invaders  of  India 
and  worshipping  the  same  gods,  the  ancient  Persians  developed 
a  form  of  religion  which  is  in  one  respect  unique.  The  duahsm 
of  gods  and  demons,  a  frequent  incidental  feature  of  polji,heism, 
became  the  central  fact  of  their  creed.  Originally,  it  would  seem, 
one  of  the  great  gods  of  the  common  ancestors  of  the  Persian  and 
Indian  peoples,  Ahuramazda  gradually  assumed  a  position  of 
predominance  over  the  rest.  He  is  already  in  the  time  of  Darius 
the  greatest  of  all  gods,  "  who  made  this  earth,  who  made  that 
heaven,  who  made  man,  who  made  Darius  king."^  But  tliis 
supremacy  was  not  unquestioned.  The  demons  did  not  disappear 
or  become  subordinate  as  in  other  rehgions,  but  maintained  a 
perpetual  conflict  with  Aliuramazda  and  his  host,  and  obtained 
for  themselves  a  leader,  the  evil  spirit  Angra  Mainya,  or,  to  give 
him  the  name  better  known  to  us,  Ahriman.  The  world  of 
spirits  is  divided  into  two  hostile  hosts,  who  balance  one  another. 
Ahriman  is  the  precise  counterpart  of  Aliura,  the  Daevas  or 

1  Rig  Veda,  x.  129,  in  Muir,  vol.  v.  pp.  356,  357. 

*  Muir,  vol.  V.  p.  372. 

'  ib.,  V.  411,  142.  It  seems  out  of  place  to  regard  the  deification  of 
the  power  of  prayer  under  the  name  of  the  Brahmanaspati  as  imparting  a 
new  and  more  ethical  element  into  religion.  Such  personifications  belong 
rather  to  the  lower  magico-animistic  stratum  in  polytheism  (see  Muir, 
V.  272). 

*  Manu,  xiii.  49.     Cf.  ix.  317,  and  xi.  35,  etc. 

^  Zend  Avesta,  i.,  Introduction,  p.  61,  by  Darmesteter,  in  Sacred  Books 
of  the  East,  vol.  iv.  On  the  relation  of  primitive  Mazdaism  to  Vedism, 
the  precise  nature  of  which  is  uncertain,  see  ib.,  lii. 


THE  WORLD  AND  THE  SPIRIT  465 

demons  are  opposed  to  the  Amesha  Spentas,^  or  good  spirits, 
who  assist  Aliura.  Human  life  is  in  a  sense  the  arena  of  the 
confhct,  since  it  is  the  forces  that  are  held  to  work  for  man's 
good  that  are  conceived  as  being  ranged  under  Ahuramazda,  and 
the  contrary  that  fight  under  the  banner  of  Ahriman.  Yet  the 
battle  is  not  essentially  a  moral  conflict  between  good  and  evil. 
It  rages  throughout  physical  nature,  and  is  fought  in  large 
measure  by  magical  weapons.  Animals  play  a  large  part  in  the 
fight — dogs,  otters  and  hedgehogs  on  the  side  of  Ahura ;  snakes, 
tortoises,  frogs  and  ants  on  that  of  the  demons.  The  dis- 
tinction apparently  depended  on  nothing  so  rational  as  the 
utility  of  the  animals,  but  rather,  we  may  conjecture,  on  the 
nature  and  rank  of  the  god  whom  they  incarnated  in  an  earlier 
stage  of  the  creed.  To  injure  one  of  Ahura's  animal  supporters 
was  as  deadly  a  crime  ^  as  to  kill  one  of  Aliriman's  animals  was 
meritorious.  Man  also  plays  his  part.  His  prayers  and  sacrifices 
assist  the  gods  in  their  struggle  .^  Conversely,  any  deviation 
from  the  rules  of  ceremonial  functions  brings  evil  upon  the 
land.  In  particular,  any  behaviour  which  spreads  the  death  in- 
fection, e.  g.  carrying  a  corpse  by  oneself,  which  renders  a  man 
pecuharly  liable  to  be  seized  by  the  death  spirit,  or  polluting 

1  These,  however,  appear  to  belong  to  later  developments  of  the  religion 
and  are  probably  importations,  perhaps  Platonic  in  origin  {ib.,  p.  Ivi  and 
Ixi).  The  original  religion  had  a  group  of  nature  gods  surrounding  Ahura 
Mazda  (p.  Ixi). 

^  This  has  nothing  to  do  with  humanity  towards  animals,  but  is  con- 
cerned purely  with  the  mischievous  effects  supposed  to  ensue.  Thus  "  He 
who  kills  a  water-dog  (otter)  brings  about  a  drought  that  dries  up  pas- 
tures." Sweetness  and  fatness  will  not  come  back  to  the  land  till  he  is 
smitten  to  death,  and  "  the  holy  soul  of  the  dog  has  been  offered  up  a 
sacrifice."  The  murderer  receives  twice  ten  thousand  stripes,  and  offers  a 
great  number  of  gifts  to  priests  ;  among  them,  "  he  shall  godly  and  piously 
give  in  marriage  to  a  godly  man,  a  virgin  maid  whom  no  man  has  known 
to  redeem  his  own  soul,"  a  sister  or  daughter  of  his  {Zend  Avesta,  i. ; 
Sacred  Books,  vol.  iv.  p.  168  ff.). 

The  penalty  of  killing  a  shepherd's  dog  was,  at  least  nominally,  eight 
hundred  stripes.  The  murder  of  a  "  water-dog  "  was  avenged  by  ten 
thousand  stripes  (ih..  Introduction,  p.  84).  Darmesteter  thinks  that 
these  penalties  must  have  had  a  money  compensation  {ih.,  pp.  85,  86). 

*  The  gods  also  sacrifice  to  one  another.  Not  only  as  an  act  of  worship 
and  recognition,  as  e.g.  Ahura  sacrifices  to  the  ancient  gods  (Duncker,  Hist. 
Antiq.,  vol.  v.  p.  136),  but  also  to  one  another  to  add  to  their  strength. 
Thus  Tistrya,  worsted  by  Apaosha,  cries  to  Ahura  :  Oh,  Ahura  Mazda  ! 
.  .  .  men  do  not  worship  me  with  a  sacrifice  ...  If  men  had  worshipped 
me  with  sacrifice  ...  I  should  have  taken  to  me  the  strength  of  ten 
horses,  ten  bulls,  ten  moimtains,  ten  rivers.  Ahura  offers  him  a  sacri- 
fice ;  he  brings  him  thereby  the  strength  of  ten  horses,  ten  camels,  ten 
bulls,  ten  mountains,  ten  rivers ;  Tistrya  runs  back  to  the  battle-field 
and  Apaosha  flies  before  him  {Zend  Avesta,  ii. ;  Sacred  Books,  xxiii. 
99  ff.). 

HH 


466  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

the  sacred  element  of  fire  by  burning  a  corpse,  are  unpardon- 
able sins.^  They  involve  the  community  in  danger,  they 
hamper  the  gods  in  their  conflict  with  the  demons,  and  they 
afflict  the  offender  with  a  taboo  of  deadly  import. 

But  Ahuramazda  is  the  lord  of  the  moral  as  Avell  as  the 
physical  world,  and  tliere  are  breaches  of  morality  which  incur 
divine  wrath  no  less  than  magical  impurities.  Prominent 
among  these  are  falsehood  and  breach  of  faith.  "  The  ruffian 
who  lies  unto  Mitlira  brings  death  to  the  whole  country."  ^  To 
ride,  to  shoot  with  the  bow,  and  to  speak  the  truth  were,  as 
Herodotus  tells  us,  the  three  lessons  learnt  by  every  Persian 
youth.  This  is  borne  out  by  the  emphasis  laid  on  truthfulness 
and  the  honourable  observance  of  obligations.  The  principle 
holds  equally,  whether  the  other  party  to  the  bargain  be  be- 
lievers or  unbelievers,  fellow-countrymen  or  foreigners.  "  Break 
not  the  contract,  0  Spitama,  neither  the  one  that  thou  hast 
entered  into  with  one  of  the  unfaithful,  nor  the  one  that  thou 
hast  entered  into  with  one  of  the  faithful.  .  .  .  For  Mithra 
stands  for  both  the  faithful  and  the  unfaithful."  ^ 

Scarcely  less  prominent  is  the  duty  of  succouring  the  faith- 
ful with  alms.  Zarathustra's  ideal,  according  to  Mr.  Mills,  was 
to  establish  a  kingdom  under  God,  "  whose  first  care  was  to  re- 
lieve suffering  and  shelter  the  honest  and  industrious  poor."'^ 
However  this  may  be,  the  duty  of  almsgiving  is  prominent.  To 
refuse  alms  when  entreated  by  the  faithful  is  one  of  the  offences 

*  Some  specimens  are  worth  giving.  "  Two  hundred  stripes  are  awarded 
if  one  tills  land  in  which  a  corpse  has  been  buried  within  the  year,  if  a 
woman  just  delivered  of  child  drinks  water.  .  .  .  Four  hundred  stripes  if 
one,  being  in  a  state  of  uncleanness,  touches  water  or  trees.  .  .  .  Five  hun- 
dred stripes  for  killing  a  whelp,  six  hundred  for  killing  a  stray  dog,  seven 
hundred  for  a  house  dog,  eight  himdred  for  a  shepherd's  dog,  one  thousand 
stripes  for  killing  a  Vanghapara  dog,  ten  thousand  stripes  for  killing  a 
water-dog.  Capital  punishment  is  expressly  pronounced  only  against  the 
false  cleanser  and  the  carrier-alone."  Repentance  and  confession  with  the 
recital  of  an  appropriate  formula  might  save  the  offender  in  the  next  world 
but  not  in  this  (Zend  Avesta,  Introd.,  p.  84). 

»  ib.,  ii.  120. 

^  ib.,  loc.  cit.  Lower  down  the  comparative  sacredness  of  different  con- 
tracts is  expressed  numerically  in  the  form  "  Mithra  is  20-fold  between  two 
friends,"  etc.,  i.  e.  (apparently)  20  times  more  binding  than  between  two 
persons  not  connected  by  any  special  tie.  A  list  of  ten  cases  is  given,  the 
sequence  of  which  is  curious  enough.  "  Mithra,"  it  appears,  is  50-fold 
between  wife  and  husband,  but  90-fold  between  two  brothers.  He  is, 
however,  1000-fold  between  two  nations,  and,  finally,  10,000-fold  when 
connected  with  the  law  of  Mazda  (ib.,  vol.  ii.  pp.  149,  150).  Accord- 
ing to  Mr.  L.  H.  Mills  (ib.,  vol.  iii.,  Introduction,  p.  xxi),  a  mere  raid  for 
rapine  (as  opposed  to  desolation  inflicted  in  regvilar  warfare)  was  regarded 
OS  a  terrible  thing. 

*  Op.  cit.,  p.  xxii.  Darmesteter  (see  vol.  iv.  p.  Ixvii)  also  places  the 
•'  ethics  of  labour  "  among  the  original  features  of  Mazdaism, 


THE  WORLD  AND  THE  SPIRIT  467 

which  added  to  the  progeny  of  the  Drug  demon.^  Hospitality 
is  rewarded  in  the  next  Hfe,  and  niggardUness  punished.  There  is 
a  reward  for  him  who  wields  the  power  Ahura  gave  him  to 
reheve  the  poor.^  The  moral  code  as  a  whole  may  be  fairly 
represented  by  two  passages.  The  first  gives  injunctions  to  the 
faithful. 

"  So  be  ye  discreet  from  your  obedience,  most  correctly  faithful 
in  your  speech,  most  saintly  from  your  sanctity,  best  ordered  in 
your  exercise  of  power,  least  straitened  by  oppressions,  heart- 
easy  with  rejoicings,  most  merciful  of  givers,  most  helpful  to  the 
poor,  fulfilling  most  the  ritual."  ^  .  .  . 

The  second  withholds  a  blessing  and  pronounces  a  curse  on 
the  wicked. 

"  Let  not  our  waters  be  for  the  man  of  ill-intent,  of  evil  speech, 
or  deeds,  or  conscience;  let  them  not  be  for  the  offender  of  a 
friend,  nor  for  an  insulter  of  a  Magian,  nor  for  one  who  harms  the 
workmen,  nor  for  one  who  hates  his  kindred.  And  let  not  our 
good  waters  (which  are  not  only  good),  but  best,  and  Mazda-made, 
help  on  the  man  who  strives  to  mar  our  settlements,  which  are  not 
to  be  corrupted,  nor  let  him  who  would  mar  our  bodies,  (our) 
uncorrupted  (selves),  nor  the  thief,  nor  bludgeon-bearing  ruffian 
who  would  slaughter  the  disciples,  nor  a  sorcerer,  nor  a  burier  of 
dead  bodies,  nor  the  jealous,  nor  the  niggard,  nor  the  godless 
heretic  who  slays  disciples,  nor  the  evil  tyrant  among  men. 
Against  these  may  our  waters  come  as  torments."  ^ 

In  sexual  matters  the  magical  and  the  ethical  appear  to  be 
blended.  The  courtesan  is  banned  as  one  whose  look  dries  up 
more  than  one-third  of  the  mighty  floods :  "  Such  creatures 
ought  to  be  killed  more  than  gliding  snakes,  than  howling 
wolves."  5  The  Sodomite  is  a  Daeva,  a  worshipper  of  Daevas, 
and  in  his  whole  being  a  Daeva.  The  first  comer  might  kill  him 
without  trial,  and  to  do  so  was  a  means  of  redeeming  an  ordinary 
capital  crime  .^  To  touch  a  woman  during  the  menses  is  an 
offence  punishable  with  stripes.'     Abortion    practised    by  an 

1  Zend  Avesta,  i.  201.  ^  ^f,^^  vol.  ii.  p.  23.  '  ib.,  in.  368. 

*  ib.,  318.  The  principle  of  group-morality — ^here  represented  by  the  re- 
ligious bond — comes  out  quaintly  in  the  provision  that  a  would-be  doctor  is 
to  practise  first  on  Daeva  worshippers.  If  three  of  them  die  under  his  knife, 
he  is  never  to  operate  on  Mazdaists,  luider  the  same  penalty  as  for  wilful 
murder.  If  three  recover,  he  can  practise  on  Mazdaists  (ib.  i.,  85). 
Sometimes  the  blessings  of  the  creed  are  jealously  reserved,  as  in  the 
following  :  "  Mazda  !  Shall  the  thieving  nomad  share  the  good  creed  ..." 
{ib.,  iii.  46).  But  elsewhere  there  is  evidence  of  a  more  catholic  spirit 
i\nd  even  of  the  conversion  of  a  neighbouring  tribe. 

*  *.,  i.  205.  «  ib.,i.  104.  »  i6.,  p.  188. 


468  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

unmarried  girl  brings  the  guilt  of  wilful  murder  both  on  her  and 
her  lover.^  Probably  the  fear  of  bringing  a  curse  of  barrenness  on 
the  land  is  the  dominating  motive  in  these  ordinances.  The  "  first 
wailing  "  of  the  goddess  Ashi  is  over  the  courtesan  who  destroys 
her  fruit ;  the  second  is  over  the  courtesan  who  passes  off  a 
strange  child  as  her  husband's;  the  third  over  "the  worst  deed 
that  men  and  tyrants  do,  namely,  when  they  deprive  maids  that 
have  been  barren  for  a  long  time  of  marrying  and  bringing 
forth  children."  2  The  procreation  of  legitimate  cliildren  is  the 
common  point  of  interest  in  the  three  cases,  and  it  is  quite  in 
accordance  with  the  general  tendency  of  the  teaching  of  the 
A  vesta  that  this  should  be  a  primary  consideration,  and  that 
everything  hostile,  or,  on  magical  grounds,  conceived  to  be 
hostile  to  it,  should  be  a  deadly  offence.  The  intermixture  of 
magical  and  ethical  ideas  is  well  seen  in  the  list  of  evils  created 
by  Angra  Mainyu  in  all  the  lands  which  Ahuramazda  made. 
They  comprise — 

The  serpent  in  the  river,  winter,  the  locust,  plunder  and  sin,  the 
corn-carrying  ants,  the  sin  of  unbelief,  the  stained  mosquito,  the 
Pairika  Knathaiti  (idolatry),  the  sin  of  pride,  the  unnatural  sin, 
the  burying  of  the  dead,  the  evil  work  of  witchcraft,  the  sin  of 
utter  unbelief,  the  cooking  of  corpses,  abnormal  issues  in  women, 
and  barbarian  oppression.^ 

The  tendency  of  the  moral  element  to  predominate,  however, 
appears  in  the  account  of  the  circumstances  giving  value  to 
prayer.  Recitations  of  the  praise  of  Holiness  is  of  different 
value  on  different  occasions.  For  instance,  if  uttered  when  eat- 
ing the  gifts  of  Havratat  and  Ameretat,  it  is  worth  ten  others. 
If  when  drinking  Haoma  (the  Indian  Soma),  it  is  worth  a 
hundred.  The  conception  here  is  primarily  magical  —  the 
quahty  of  the  Haoma  intensifying  the  value  of  the  praise,  and 
the  fact  of  eating  or  drinking  increasing  its  effect  on  the  wor- 
shipper. But  when,  finally,  the  question  is  asked  :  "  What 
...  is  worth  all  that  is  between  the  earth,  and  the  heavens, 
and  tliis  earth,  and  that  luminous  space,  and  all  the  good  things 
made  by  Mazda,  that  are  the  offspring  of  the  good  principle  in 
greatness,  goodness,  and  fairness  ?  "  Ahura  Mazda  answered  : 
"  It  is  that  one,  0  Holy  Zarathustra,  that  a  man  delivers  to  re- 
nounce evil  thoughts,  evil  works,  and  evil  deeds."  *  Thus  in  the 
end  the  ethical  conception  of  worship  is  made  to  predominate. 

Ethical  also  in  essence  is  the  vivid  picture  of  future 
retribution.^ 

1  Zend  Avesta,  p.  178.  '  ib.,  vol.  ii.  p.  281  ff.  «  ib.,  i.  4  ff. 

*  ib.,  ii.  313.  *  ib.  ii.,  315. 


THE  WORLD   AND  THE  SPIRIT  469 

"  At  the  end  of  the  third  night,  when  the  dawn  appears,  it 
seems  to  the  soul  of  the  faithful  one  as  if  it  were  brought  amidst 
plants  and  scents ;  it  seems  as  if  a  wind  were  blowing  from  the 
region  of  the  south,  from  the  regions  of  the  south  a  sweet- 
scented  wind,  sweeter-scented  than  any  other  wind  in  the  world. 

"  And  it  seems  to  the  soul  of  the  faithful  one  as  if  he  were 
inhaling  that  wind  with  the  nostrils,  and  he  thinks  :  '  Whence 
does  that  wind  blow,  the  sweetest-scented  wind  I  ever  inhaled 
with  my  nostrils  ?  ' 

"  And  it  seems  to  him  as  if  his  own  conscience  were  advancing 
to  him  in  that  wind,  in  the  shape  of  a  maiden  fair,  bright,  white- 
armed,  strong,  tall-formed,  high-standing,  thick-breasted,  beauti- 
ful of  body,  noble,  of  a  glorious  seed,  of  the  size  of  a  maid  in  her 
fifteenth  year,  as  fair  as  the  fairest  things  in  the  world. 

"  And  the  soul  of  the  faithful  one  addresses  her,  asking  : 
'  What  maid  art  thou,  who  art  the  fairest  maid  I  have  ever 
seen  ?  ' 

"  And  she,  being  his  own  conscience,  answers  him  :  '  0  thou 
youth  of  good  thoughts,  good  words,  and  good  deeds,  of  good 
religion,  I  am  thine  own  conscience  ! 

"  *  Everybody  did  love  thee  for  that  greatness,  goodness, 
fairness,  sweet-scentedness,  victorious  strength  and  freedom  from 
sorrow,  in  which  thou  dost  appear  to  me ; 

"  '  Ajid  so  thou,  0  youth  of  good  thoughts,'  etc., '  didst  love  me 
for  that  greatness,'  etc.,  '  in  which  I  appear  to  thee. 

"  '  When  thou  wouldst  see  a  man  making  derision  and  deeds  of 
idolatry,  or  rejecting  (the  poor)  and  shutting  his  door,  then  thou 
wouldst  sit  singing  the  Gathas  and  worshipping  the  good  waters 
and  Atar,  the  son  of  Ahura  Mazda,  and  rejoicing  the  faithful  that 
would  come  from  near  or  from  afar. 

"  '  I  was  lovely,  and  thou  madest  me  still  lovelier ;  I  was  fair, 
and  thou  madest  me  still  fairer ;  I  was  desirable,  and  thou  madest 
me  stni  more  desirable;  I  was  sitting  in  a  forward  place,  and 
thou  madest  me  sit  in  the  foremost  place,  through  this  good 
thought,  through  this  good  speech,  through  this  good  deed  of 
thine;  and  so  henceforth  men  worship  me  for  my  having  long 
sacrificed  unto  and  conversed  with  Ahura  Mazda.'  " 

In  the  same  third  night  the  conscience  of  the  wicked  appears 
to  him  in  the  form  of  a  "  profligate  woman,  naked,  decayed, 
gaping,  bandy-legged,  lean-Hpped,  and  unhmitedly  spotted,  so 
that  spot  was  joined  to  spot,  like  the  most  hideous  noxious 
creature,  most  filthy,  and  most  stinking."  ^ 

The  creed  of  Zoroaster  is  not  monotheism,  though  it  had 
monotheistic  tendencies,  which  developed  in  proportion  as  stress 

^  Zend  Avesta,  ii.  319,  note. 


470  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

was  laid  on  the  final  victory  of  Ahuramazda  and  the  destruc- 
tion of  Angra  Mainya.  But  neither  was  it  ordinary  polji^heism. 
It  was  a  unique  expression  of  the  duaHsm  of  nature  which  few 
other  creeds,  if  any,  have  ever  attempted  to  face.  As  such  it 
left  a  legacy  in  the  conception  of  the  devil  to  later  rehgions.  It 
is  deeply  immersed  in  magical  ideas,  which  makes  its  code  with 
its  grotesque  offerings  and  horrible  punishments  perhaps  the 
most  extraordinary  document  in  the  whole  history  of  Ethics. 
Yet  amid  this  it  had  also  firmly  seized  certain  moral  truths — 
hardly  yet  the  deeper  truths  of  the  spiritual  religions,  but  the 
truths  consonant  to  the  character  of  an  early  civihzation — the 
purity  of  the  home  life,  truthfulness,  good  faith,  neighbourly 
help  and  hospitality.  It  conceived  that  man's  duty  is  to  master 
the  earth,  to  tend  the  kine,  to  be  fruitful  and  multiply,  and  that 
this  was  to  lend  power  to  the  good  spirit  and  aid  its  ultimate 
triumph  over  the  demonic  forces  of  Death  and  the  desert.  For 
those  who  forwarded  the  work  there  was  a  rich  reward  laid  up 
hereafter — and  for  the  evil  that  appalling  meeting  with  their 
own  conscience  which  was  the  opening  of  hell. 

4.  A  far  greater  advance  on  the  primitive  Indo-Persian 
religion  was  made  in  India  itself.  Here,  long  before  the  age 
of  Buddha,  at  a  date  quite  unknown  to  us,  the  Vedic  religion 
was  developed  into  a  metaphysical  system,  probably  the  first 
metaphysical  religion  of  history.  Not  only  had  the  gods  been 
traced  to  emanations  from  a  single  principle — this  would  not 
in  itself,  perhaps,  have  brought  the  Brahman  further  than  the 
esoteric  wisdom  of  Egypt — but,  what  is  for  ethical  purposes  more 
important,  this  supreme  principle  was  identified  with  the  true 
self  or  personality  of  man,  an  identification  which  makes  the 
spirituality  of  the  Divine  for  the  first  time  its  essential  feature. 

"  The  intelligent,  whose  body  is  spirit,  .  .  .  He  is  myself, 
within  the  heart ;  smaller  than  a  corn  of  rice,  smaller  than  a  corn 
of  barlej^,  smaller  than  a  mustard-seed,  smaller  than  a  canary- 
seed  or  the  kernel  of  a  canary-seed.  He  also  is  myself  within  the 
heart,  grea.ter  than  the  earth,  greater  than  the  sky,  greater  than 
heaven,  greater  than  all  these  worlds.  He  from  whom  all  works, 
all  desires,  all  sweet  colours  and  tastes  proceed,  who  embraces  all 
this,  who  never  speaks,  and  who  is  never  surprised,  he,  myself 
within  the  heart,  is  that  Brahman.  .  .  .  When  I  shall  have  de- 
parted from  hence,  I  shall  obtain  him  (that  Self).  He  who  has 
this  faith  has  no  doubt."  ^ 

•  Upaniahads,  i   48 


THE  WORLD  AND  THE  SPIRIT  471 

We  have  here  the  first  principle  of  all  mysticism,  that  God 
and  the  self  are  one.  But  we  hare  also  something  greater  than 
mysticism,  the  discovery  that  the  true  self  is  something  distinct 
from  and  opposed  to  the  material  body  and  thehfe  of  the  senses, 
something  that  can  be  smaller  than  a  grain  of  mustard-seed 
because  not  an  object  in  space  at  all,  yet  greater  than  the  uni- 
verse because  embracing  all  things.  Matter  is  not  spirit,  nor 
do  images  and  conceptions  drawn  from  matter  serve  to  define 
the  Spirit,  which  is  known  rather  by  its  opposition  to  them, 
as  the  self  which  we  find  when  we  get  beneath  the  bodily  shell 
and  think  away  the  objects  of  sensuous  knowledge.  Indeed, 
the  only  doubt  is  whether  the  self  as  that  which  knows  can  also 
be  known. 

"  How  should  he  (the  Self)  know  Him  by  whom  he  knows  all 
this  ?  That  self  is  to  be  described  by  No,  No  !  He  is  incompre- 
hensible, for  he  cannot  be  comprehended ;  he  is  imperishable,  for 
he  cannot  perish ;  he  is  unattached,  for  he  does  not  attach  him- 
self ;  unfettered,  he  does  not  suffer,  he  does  not  fail.  How,  O 
beloved,  should  he  know  the  Knower  ?  "  ^ 

But  this  sceptical  movement  does  not  prevent  the  triumphant 
identification  of  the  self  with  the  universal  Spirit.  The  self  is 
the  true  totality  of  things,  and  he  who  has  achieved  this  wisdom, 
attaining  to  self-knowledge  and  self-mastery,  attains  also  to  a 
lordship  of  all  things. 

"  Now  follows  the  explanation  of  the  Infinite  as  the  'I.'  *  I  am 
below;  I  am  above,  I  am  behind,  before,  right  and  left — I  am 
all  this.'  Next  follows  the  explanation  of  the  Infinite  as  the 
Self.  '  Self  is  below,  above,  behind,  before,  right  and  left — Self 
is  all  this.'  '  He  who  sees,  perceives,  and  understands  this,  loves 
the  Self,  delights  in  the  Self,  revels  in  the  Self,  rejoices  in  the 
Self — he  becomes  a  Svarag  (an  autocrat  or  self-ruler) ;  he  is  lord 
and  master  in  all  the  worlds.  But  those  who  think  difi^erently 
from  this,  live  in  perishable  worlds,  and  have  other  beings  for 
their  rulers."  ^ 

Iiuier  knowledge  is  the  centre  of  mysticism ;  through  this 
knowledge  man  achieves  self-mastery,  and  self-mastery  is 
world-mastery ;  for  the  true  self,  illusions  thrown  off,  is  the 
reality  of  all  that  is.  How  then  do  men  attain  knowledge  ? 
Neither  work,  nor  prayer,  nor  much  learning,  nor  penance,  are 

^  Upanishads,  ii.  185.  Cf.  Upanishada,  p.  112,  where  the  duality 
(of  subject  and  object)  involved  in  knowledge  is  insisted  on,  and  the 
difficulty  is  raised  how  the  self  which  is  the  knower  can  also  be  the  known. 

2  ib.,i.  123,  124. 


472  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

sufficient.  But  these,  it  would  appear,  form  a  ladder  whereby 
men  escape  from  the  impurity  of  sensual  existence,  and  reach  the 
clearer  air  of  self-mastery.  "  By  truthfulness  in  deed,  by  penance 
right  knowledge  and  abstinence  must  that  self  be  gained."  ^  The 
rules  of  morahty  and  rehgious  ceremonial  are  presupposed. 

"  There  are  three  branches  of  the  law — sacrifice,  study  and 
charity  are  the  first;  austerity  the  second;  and  to  dwell  as  a 
Brahmakarin  in  the  house  of  a  tutor,  always  mortifying  the 
body  ...  is  the  third,"  ^ 

The  Brahmanic  Code  ^  is  naturally  more  expHcit  on  this  point 
than  the  mystical  books.  And  not  only  does  it  make  conduct 
the  foundation  of  the  spiritual  life,  but  we  find  it  advancing 
to  the  ethical  view  that  good  conduct  is  truly  good  only  when 
preferred  for  its  own  sake,  independently  of  the  conception  of 
reward  or  punishment.  "  The  sages,  who  saw  that  the  sacred 
law  is  thus  grounded  on  the  rule  of  conduct,  have  taken  good 
conduct  to  be  the  most  excellent  root  of  all  austerity,"  *  and  "to 
act  solely  from  a  desire  for  rewards  is  not  laudable,  yet  an 
exemption  from  that  desire  is  not  (to  be  found)  in  this  (world), 
for  on  (that)  desire  is  grounded  the  study  of  the  Veda  and  the 
performance  of  the  actions  prescribed  by  the  Veda."^  This 
is  perhaps  a  little  halting,  but  in  the  concluding  book  of  the 
code  we  find  a  more  emphatic  sentence.  "  Acts  which  secure 
(the  fulfilment  of)  wishes  in  this  world  or  in  the  next  are  called 
pravritta  (such  as  cause  a  continuation  of  mundane  existence) ; 
but  acts  performed  \vithout  any  desire  (for  a  reward)  preceded 
by  (the  acquisition)  of  (true)  knowledge,  are  declared  to  be 
nivritta  (such  as  cause  the  cessation  of  mundane  existence)."  ^ 
Abandonment  of  all  earthly  affections  is  the  final  condition  of 
supreme  fehcity.  "  If  a  man,  though  well  enlightened,  is  still 
pierced  by  passion  and  darkness  and  attached  to  his  children, 

1  Upanishads,  ii.  39.  Sometimes  the  Brahmanist  thinker  seems  to  be 
stumbing  on  the  brink  of  the  theory  of  Election,  as  :  "  That  self  cannot 
be  gained  by  the  Veda,  nor  by  understanding,  nor  by  much  learning.  He 
whom  the  Self  chooses,  by  him  the  Self  can  be  gained"  (ib.,  ii.  11).  For 
abstinence  as  a  condition,  cf.  i.  130. 

2  ib.,  i.  35. 

^  In  citing  Manu  as  evidence  for  Brahmanic  teaching,  we  must  bear  in 
mind  that  the  code  as  we  have  it  is  a  growth  of  many  centuries  incor- 
porating elements  of  various  origin.  To  attempt  to  disentangle  the  sources 
of  different  sections,  or  to  determine  their  chronological  sequence,  would, 
however,  lead  to  a  special  inquiry  far  beyond  the  scope  of  this  work.  For 
our  purposes  we  must  be  content  to  take  the  code  with  all  its  inconsis- 
tencies at  its  face  value,  as  representing  the  ideas  at  work  in  the  Bralimanic 
world  over  a  long  period. 

*  Manu,  i.  110-  -'^  ib.,  ii.  2.  «  ib.,  xii.  89. 


THE  WORLD  AND  THE  SPIRIT  473 

wife  and  house,  then  perfect  Yoga  is  never  accomphshed."  ^  On 
the  other  hand,  perfect  knowledge  raises  man  above  the  capacity 
for  sin.  Indra  said  .  .  .  "he  who  knows  me  thus,  b}''  no  deed  of 
his  is  his  Hfe  harmed,  not  by  the  murder  of  his  mother,  not  by 
the  murder  of  his  father,  not  by  theft,  not  by  the  kilhng  of  a 
Brahman.  If  he  is  going  to  commit  a  sin,  the  bloom  does  not 
depart  from  his  face."  ^ 

Two  notes  are  sounded  here  that  echo  through  the  whole 
history  of  mystical  religion.  All  ordinary  human  ties  are 
broken  by  a  spiritual  principle  which  puts  everything  belonging 
to  this  world  into  a  secondary  place.  And  in  close  conjunction 
with  this  feature  we  have  the  elevation  of  an  inward  state  of 
mind  as  the  highest  goal,  supreme  above  all  conduct — the  one 
element  in  conduct  of  vital  importance  being  in  fact  merely  the 
self -repression  required  in  order  that  this  inward  state  may  come 
into  being.  Both  these  features  belong  to  the  first  clear  appre- 
hension of  the  spiritual  element  in  man,  and  its  sharp  opposition 
to  the  sensual.  In  this  early  stage  it  cannot  be  apprehended 
that  the  truly  spiritual  is  something  that  forms  and  inspires  the 
world  of  perception,  that  fashions  lowly  efforts  to  great  ends 
and  transfigures  humble  daily  life  with  the  light  and  glow  of 
self-sacrifice  and  love.  Become  for  the  first  time  conscious  of 
itself,  the  spirit  wants  a  dramatic  display  of  its  independence. 
It  must  show  its  utter  contempt  for  the  material  world,  and  in 
this  unfortunately  it  includes  those  very  human  relations  which 
are  the  true  sphere  of  its  activity.  It  knows  self-control  to  be 
the  foundation  of  its  existence,  and  it  makes  the  practice  of 
self-control  the  one  supreme  and  all-embracing  end  of  conduct. 
These  are  common,  and  on  the  whole  distinctive,  features  of  the 
first  stage  of  spiritual  religion.  True,  the  ascetic  tendency  and 
the  cult  of  pain  are  deeply  rooted  in  human  nature,  and  play 
an  important  part  even  in  savage  life.  Painful  initiations  as 
tests  of  viriHty  are  one  of  the  commonest  of  savage  institutions. 
Down  to  the  lowest  grades  men  honour  those  who  can  endure. 
But  it  is  with  the  rise  of  spiritual  religion  that  asceticism  takes 
rank  as  the  supreme  law  of  salvation. 

Asceticism  links  itself  naturally  to  the  conception  of  penance, 
and  here  again  we  come  in  Brahmanism  upon  the  beginnings 
of  a  spiritual  theory  of  man's  regeneration.  We  have  seen  that 
the  Babylonian  who  sought  to  avoid  the  consequences  of  his 
sins  had  no  better  method  than  to  resort  to  an  incantation, 
which  was  in  the  first  place  a  form  of  repudiation,  and  in  the 
second  place  a  ceremonial  purification,  in  which  the  sins  were 
*  Upanishads,  ii.  326.  *  ib.y  i.  2S3. 


474  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

washed  or  scoured  or  thrown  away  or  burnt  out  of  him  by  one 
of  the  processes  of  sympathetic  magic.  We  have  also  seen 
reasons  for  thinking  that  in  the  Egyptian  Judgment  of  the 
Dead,  at  least  in  its  old  form,  the  negative  confession  had  a 
similar  significance.  In  the  Brahman's  Code  we  find  a  distinct 
advance  towards  an  ethical  conception  of  repentance. 

"  By  confession,  by  repentance,  by  austerity  and  by  reciting 
(the  Veda)  a  sinner  is  freed  from  guilt,  and  in  case  no  other  course 
is  possible,  by  liberality.  In  proportion  as  a  man  who  has  done 
wrong,  himself  confesses  it,  even  so  far  he  is  freed  from  guilt,  as 
a  snake  from  its  slough.  In  proportion  as  his  heart  loathes  his 
evil  deed,  even  so  far  is  his  body  freed  from  that  guilt."  ^ 

Higher  and  lower  elements  contend  in  this  passage.  At 
times  we  seem  near  to  the  ethical  view  of  purification  through 
the  acknowledgment  of  guilt  and  the  ready  acceptance  of  in- 
evitable suffering,  as  the  way  and  means  towards  a  true  change 
of  heart.  At  other  times  we  relapse  into  the  magical  conception 
of  the  potency  of  a  formula,  and  learn  that  "  even  he  who  has 
stolen  gold  instantly  becomes  free  from  guilt  if  he  once  mutters  " 
a  certain  hymn.^  The  old  magic  crops  up  by  the  side  of  the 
higher  spiritualism,  and  the  veil  of  mystical  imagination  drawn 
over  all  forbids  that  clear,  remxorseless  scrutiny  by  which  alone 
the  doctrine  of  the  spirit  can  be  kept  pure.  Apart  from  the 
medicinal  effect  of  repentance,  confession,  and  forgiveness,  the 
Brahmanistic  religion  took  a  stringent  view  of  the  consequences 
of  guilt.  If  a  man  did  not  suffer  for  guilt  in  this  life,  it  came 
upon  him  in  the  next.  After  passing  through  hell,  he  was  re- 
incarnated in  some  loathsome  animal  form.  If  the  punishment 
did  not  fall  upon  the  simier,  it  might,  by  the  principle  of 
vicarious  justice,  fall  upon  his  sons  or  his  descendants  or  his 
ancestors.  Manu  says,  "  If  (the  punishment  falls)  not  on  (the 
offender)  himself,  (it  falls)  on  his  sons ;  if  not  on  the  sons,  (at 
least)  on  his  grandsons  " ;  but  there  is  a  saving  clause  which 
shows  that  vicarious  justice  no  longer  wholly  satisfies.  "  But 
an  iniquity  (once)  committed  never  fails  to  produce  fruit  to  him 
who  wrought  it."  ^ 

The  doctrine  of  transmigration  is  interwoven  with  the  most 
serious  aberration  in  the  Brahmanic  ethics,  since  it  offered,  asi 
we   have   seen,''   a   theoretical    justification   for  the   deepening] 
divisions  of  caste.^     We  also  saw,  it  is  true,  that  these  divisions} 

1  Manu,  xi.  228,  229,  230.  "  ib.,  xi.  251 ;  cf.  249,  250,  252. 

^  ib.,  iv.  173.  *  Part  I.  chap.  vii. 

^  The  Sudra,  and  still  more  the  outcast  Kandala,  was  justly  despised  and] 
kept  apart  from  the  Brahman  because  he  was  the  incarnation  of  a  sou) 


THE   WORLD  AND  THE  SPIRIT  475 

were  the  subject  of  much  questioning  among  thinkers.  But  it 
was  not  the  function  of  Brahmanism  to  amehorate  social  hfe. 
Life  in  human  society  was  a  hfe  of  error  in  which  the  true 
Brahman  remained  only  to  fulfil  his  duty  to  liis  ancestors  by 
begetting  a  son  to  continue  their  cult.  His  true  life  was  in  the 
forest,  conquering  the  senses  and  coming  to  the  knowledge  of 
his  spiritual  self.  Yet  with  this  contempt  for  worldly  values 
Brahmanism  is  able  to  make  some  advance  towards  those  ethical 
positions  which  characterize  the  higher  spiritual  rehgions. 

The  Brahman  is  to  avoid  causing  pain  even  within  his  rights. 
"  Let  liim  not  be  uselessly  active  with  his  hands  and  feet,  or 
with  his  eyes,  nor  crooked  (in  his  ways),  nor  talk  idly,  nor 
injure  others  by  deeds  or  even  tliink  of  it."  ^  Consideration  for 
all  life,  animal  as  well  as  human,  is  in  more  than  one  place 
urged,  though  the  rule  is  not  consistently  carried  through, 
"  For  that  twice -born  man,  by  whom  not  the  smallest  danger 
even  is  caused  to  created  beings,  there  will  be  no  danger  from 
any  (quarter)  after  he  is  freed  from  his  body."  ^  Malice  is  con- 
demned, "neither  a  man  who  (lives)  unrighteously,  nor  he  who 
(acquires)  wealth  (by  telhng)  falsehoods,  nor  he  who  always 
delights  in  doing  injury,  ever  attain  happiness  in  this  world."  ^ 
If  the  eating  of  meat  except  in  sacrifice*  is  forbidden,  this  is 
perhaps  an  outcome  of  primitive  ideas  Avhich  at  times  verge 
upon  zoolatry.  But  a  more  rational  conception  of  the  general 
sanctity  of  life  is  implied  in  the  rule,  "  Let  him  never  seek  to 
destroy  an  animal  without  a  (lawful)  reason  "  ;  and  in  some  places 
a  true  consideration  for  animals  is  blended  with  rules  traceable 
to  principles  of  magic.  "Let  him  not  travel  with  untrained 
beasts  of  burden,  nor  with  (animals)  that  are  tormented  by 
hunger  or  disease,  or  whose  horns,  eyes,  and  hoofs  have  been 
injured,  or  Avhose  tails  have  been  disfigured.  Let  him  always 
travel  with  beasts  which  are  well  broken  in,  swift,  endowed  with 
lucky  marks,  and  perfect  in  form  and  colour,  without  urging  them 
too  much  "ndth  the  goad."^  As  to  enemies,  the  Brahmanistic 
Code  does  not  go  so  far  as  Lao  Tse  in  bidding  us  to  recompense 
evil  with  good,®  but  it  preaches  rather  the  ignoring  of  an  enemy  : 

suffering  for  its  misdeeds  in  some  prior  existence.  Far  from  bringing 
relief  to  the  despised  and  oppressed,  Brahmanism  stamped  caste  divisions 
with  the  seal  of  religion,  and  if  it  did  not  invent  them,  at  least  gave  them 
the  iron  fixity  which  holds  Indian  society  bound  and  fettered  to  this  day. 

1  Manu,  iv.  177.  2  ^^ ^  ^,j   49  3  ^5^  j^    I^-q 

*  lb.,  v.  31.  5   ijj ^  -^y   67^  68_ 

'  Yet  in  the  Mahabharata  we  read  the  Buddliist  verse,  "Let  a  man  over- 
cuiiie  anger  by  kindness,  evil  by  good ;  let  him  conquer  the  stingy  by  a 
^ift,  the  liar  by  truth  "  (Rhys  Davids,  Buddhism,  p.  130  note). 


476  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

"  Let  him  not  show  particular  attention  to  an  enemy,  the 
friend  of  an  enemy,  to  a  wicked  man,  to  a  thief,  or  to  the  wife 
of  another  man."^  If  these  words  hardly  suggest  that  it  is 
forgiveness  that  is  in  question,  but  rather  the  avoidance  of 
strife,  on  the  other  hand  we  read  further  on  that  forgiveness 
and  hberaUty  are  means  to  purification.  "  The  learned  are 
purified  by  a  forgiving  disposition ;  those  who  have  committed 
forbidden  actions  by  liberahty."  ^  Yet  the  following  clause 
seems  to  be  the  Mosaic  law  at  a  little  higher  remove.  "  Making 
over  (the  merit  of  liis  own)  good  actions  to  his  friends,  and  (the 
guilt  of)  his  evil  deeds  to  his  enemies,  he  attains  the  eternal 
Brahman  by  the  practice  of  meditation."^  Lastly,  forgiveness 
is  a  maxim  of  kingcraft.  "  A  king  who  desires  his  own  welfare 
must  always  forgive  litigants,  infants,  aged  and  sick  men,  who 
inveigh  against  him.  He  who  being  abused  by  men  in  pain 
pardons  (them),  will  in  reward  of  that  (act)  be  exalted  in  heaven  ; 
but  he  who,  (proud)  of  his  kingly  state,  forgives  them  not,  will 
for  that  (reason)  sink  into  hell."  * 

For  the  rest,  the  Brahmanic  teaching,  as  we  have  seen, 
adheres  to  the  Oriental  view  of  women, ^  It  lays  down  certain 
rules  of  humanity  and  chivalry  in  warfare.^  In  private  inter- 
course it  teaches  the  duty  of  truthfulness  combined  with  courtesy. 
It  insists  much  upon  the  avoidance  of  low  occupations  and  mean 
methods  of  gain,'  and  even  preaches  holding  aloof  from  a  king 
who  is  not  of  a  true  kingly  caste. ^ 

1  Manu,  iv.  133.  '  ib.,  v.  107. 

3  ib.,  vi.  79.  *  ib.,  viii.  312,  313. 

*  See  above.  Part  I.  chap.  v.  *  Part  I.  chap.  vi. 

'  Betting  and  gambluig  are  declared  equivalent  to  "  open  theft"  (Manu, 
ix.  222). 

*  "  Let  him  not  accept  presents  from  a  king  who  is  not  descended  from 
the  Kshatriya  race,  nor  from  butchers,  oil-manufacturers,  and  pubhcans,  nor 
from  those  who  subsist  by  the  gain  of  prostitutes.  One  oil-press  is  as  (bad) 
as  ten  slaughter-houses,  one  tavern  as  (bad)  as  ten  oil-presses,  one  brothel 
as  (bad  as)  ten  taverns,  one  king  as  (bad  as)  ten  brothels.  A  king  is 
declared  to  be  equal  (in  wickedness)  to  a  butcher  who  keeps  a  hundred 
thousand  slaughter-houses  ;  to  accept  presents  from  him  is  a  terrible  (crime). 
He  who  accepts  presents  from  an  avaricious  king,  who  acts  contrary  to  the 
Institutes  (of  the  sacred  law),  will  go  in  succession  to  the  following  twenty- 
one  hells  "  (Manu,  iv.  84,  etc.).  Some  conception  of  the  spirit  of  the 
Brahmanic  Code,  and  of  the  very  diverse  elements  entering  into  it,  may 
be  obtained  by  comparing  the  lists  of  principal  and  minor  offences.  The 
following  are  mortal  sins  :  "  Killing  a  Brahmana,  drinking  (the  spirituous 
liquor  called)  Siira,  stealing  (the  gold  of  a  Brahmana),  adultery  with  a 
Guru's  wife,  and  associating  with  such  (offenders)  .  .  .  Slaying  a  friend  .  .  . 
stealing  men  .  .  .  carnal  intercourse  with  sisters  by  the  same  mother,  with 
(unmarried)  maidens,  with  females  of  the  lowest  castes,  with  the  wives  of 
a  friend,  or  of  a  son."  .  .  .  On  the  other  hand  :  "  Adultery,  selling  one- 
self, allowing  one's  younger  brother  to  marry  first,  .  .  .  giving  a  daughter 


THE   WORLD  AND  THE  SPIRIT  477 

The  Brahmanic  Code  is  not  the  work  of  reformers  or  of  men 
inspired  with  a  social  or  humane  ideal.  It  is  the  code  of  a 
society  in  which  barbaric  elements  survive,  but  which  has  made 
great  advances  in  civilization,  and  of  a  priesthood  which  has 
grasped  certain  sides  of  spiritual  truth,  but  has  neither  disen- 
cumbered itself  of  primitive  ways  of  thought,  nor  advanced  to 
the  point  at  which  the  etliical  and  spiritual  unite.  Its  spiritual 
interpretation  of  the  divine  unity  was  such  as  readily  to  make 
terms  with  polytheism.  For  though  all  the  gods  and  all  human 
beings  too  were  emanations  from  the  one  spirit,  it  does  not 
follow  that  the  many  gods  lose  their  reality.  On  the  contrary, 
the  way  is  prepared  for  the  series  of  emanations — Vishnu,  an 
emanation  from  Brahma  ;  Krishna,  an  emanation  of  Vishnu  ;  and 
Elrishna  himself  impersonated  in  many  successive  incarnations — 
a  system  which  retains  many  of  the  essentials  of  polytheism, 
under  the  shell  of  metaphysical  theory.  What  was  worse  was 
that  its  mysticism  could  make  terms  with  magic;  it  could 
find  spiritual  efiicacy  in  a  formula,  and  conceive  austerity  as 
conferring,  not  an  ethical  self -con  quest,  but  miraculous  powers. 
Finally,  at  its  best, the  Brahmanic  view  of  hfe  is  pessimistic  and 
its  highest  ideal  is  the  sage  who,  having  performed  his  duties, 
has  emancipated  himself  from  human  relations  and  entered  into 
the  spiritual  kingdom  of  the  god  within  his  breast.  It  contains 
no  message  of  comfort  for  the  sufferer,  of  love,  of  forgiveness,  of 
humihty.  StiU  less  does  it  proclaim  an  ideal  of  social  justice. 
It  leaves  us  with  the  picture  of  the  emaciated  hermit  dreaming, 
in  the  trance  of  semi -starvation,  of  himself  as  one  with  the 
centre  of  things,  a  God  self -created  by  his  own  afflicted  brain. 

5.  The  relation  of  Buddliism  to  Brahmanism  has  sometimes 
been  compared  to  that  of  Protestantism  to  the  Catholic  Church. 
It  is,  at  any  rate,  only  by  appreciating  the  central  doctrines  of 
Brahmanism  that  we  can  begin  to  understand  Buddlia's  attitude. 
The  Brahman  held  life  to  be  on  the  whole  an  evil,  from  which 
it  was  the  object  of  the  higher  knowledge  to  deliver  its  possessor. 
Every  Brahmanic  system  had  its  own  theory  of  the  method  of 
escape  from  the  chain  of  existences.  Buddha  had  a  new  theory, 
and  one  which,  with  the  same  element  of  pessimism  at  its  root, 


to  .  .  .  (either  brother)  .  .  .  defiling  a  damsel,  usury,  .  .  .  selling  a  tank, 
a  garden,  one's  wife,  or  child,  .  .  .  living  as  a  Vratya,  casting  off  a  relative, 
.  .  .  superintending  mines,  .  .  .  subsisting  on  (the  earnings  of)  one's  wife 
.  .  .  cutting  down  green  trees  for  firewood,  doing  acts  for  one's  own 
advantage  only,  .  .  .  slaying  women,  Sudras,  Vaisyas,  or  Kshatriyas,  and 
atheism  "  are  all  minor  offences  causing  loss  of  caste. 


478  MORALS   IN  EVOLUTION 

was  in  closer  touch  alike  with  average  human  nature  and  with 
the  higher  ethical  consciousness  of  mankind.  Buddha's  great 
discovery  was  the  want  of  permanence  in  the  whole  world  of 
phenomena,  the  whole  world  of  change.  Whatever  has  a 
beginning  must  also  have  an  end.  And  so  there  appeared  the 
possibility  of  an  ultimate  cessation  from  the  wheel  of  suffering, 
an  ultimate  disentanglement  from  the  chain  of  earthly  existences. 
Transmigration  is,  in  a  modified  form,  a  central  doctrine  still, 
but  it  is  not  strictly  a  transmigration  of  the  soul,  for  the  soul, 
according  to  the  strict  Buddhist,  is  a  figment.  The  constitutive 
elements  of  the  human  being  come  together  at  birth,  and  are 
dissolved  at  death.  If  the  good  and  evil  he  does  live  after  him, 
it  must  be  very  strictly  maintained  that  it  is  the  good  and  evil 
only  that  live  and  not  he  himself.  In  other  words,  every  cause 
has  its  effect.  Wliatever  good  I  do  has  a  permanent,  so  to  say, 
spiritual  efficacy,  and  equally  whatever  evil  I  do.  But  the 
effect  is  shown  in  a  pecuHar  way.  My  personality  does  not 
survive,  but  my  good  and  my  evil  works  survive,  and  they  deter- 
mine the  fate  of  another  being,  which  comes  into  existence,  as 
it  were,  to  carry  on  my  moral  destiny.  This  is  the  difficult 
and  much  misunderstood  doctrine  of  Karma,  a  doctrine  which  a 
modern  metaphysician  might  phrase  somewhat  after  this  fashion  : 
that  it  destroys  the  substantiahty  of  the  soul  while  leaving  its 
causality ;  the  stream  of  moral  consequences  becomes  a  stream  of 
mere  causation  from  which  the  personahty  of  the  moral  subject 
is  removed.  But,  further.  Karma  has,  as  it  were,  one  central 
cause — Desire,  the  will  to  live,  self-assertion.  It  is  on  account 
of  this  desire  that  I  maintain  my  individuahty,  that  I  remain  shut 
up  within  my  selfish  interests,  that  I  maintain  myself  as  a  dis- 
tinct being  from  the  universe  at  large ;  and  because  this  desire 
is.  Karma  is,  and  the  results  of  my  personal  character  are 
perpetuated.  If  I  would  seek  emancipation  from  the  chain  of 
earthly  existences  I  must  put  an  end  to  Karma,  and  to  put  an 
end  to  Karma  I  must  put  an  end  to  desire ;  and  to  put  an  end 
to  desire  I  must  train  myself  in  the  doctrines  of  the  Buddha 
which  teach  me  the  unreality  and  the  valuelessness  of  all  earthly 
things,  and  raise  me  to  that  emancipation  from  self,  from  worldly 
interests,  from  all  care  for  the  things  of  this  transitory  being, 
which  is  for  the  Buddhist  the  dream  of  bhss.  I  must,  in  short, 
attain  to  the  extinction  of  individuality — that  is,  to  use  a  technical 
and  deeply  misunderstood  term,  to  Nirvana,  for  Nirvana  is  not, 
as  is  often  thought,  utter  extinction ;  on  the  contrary,  it  is  a 
real  state  of  real  people  in  this  earthly  existence,  it  is  the  state 
of  the  Arahat,  a  state  reached  by  those  who  have  trodden  the 


THE   WORLD   AND  THE   SPIRIT  479 

path  marked  out  for  them  to  the  end  and  gained  the  summit  of 
the  ascent.  Nirvana  means  extinction,  but  it  does  not  mean 
extinction  of  Hfe,  but  extinction  of  those  desires  and  lusts  which 
war,  not,  as  in  Christianity,  against  the  soul,  but  rather  for 
the  perpetuation  of  individuality,  which  form  a  barrier  between 
the  world  and  me,  which  make  me,  in  short,  an  individual,  and 
prevent  me  from  reacliing  that  state  of  blissful  contemplation, 
of  perfect  benevolence,  and  total  selflessness  which  alone  can 
prevent  the  law  of  Karma  from  bringing  another  being  into 
existence  in  my  place,  when  my  earthly  career  is  ended.  We 
now  have  before  us  the  "  four  noble  truths  "  in  wliich  the  doctrine 
of  Buddha  is  summed  up.  The  first  is  the  truth  about  suffering. 
All  transient  existence  involves  suffering ;  birth  and  death, 
growth  and  decay,  the  frustration  of  desire,  the  longing  that  can- 
not be  satisfied,  all  that  belongs  to  our  existence  as  individuals — 
all  are  full  of  suffering.  There  maybe  joy  too,  but  pain  cometh 
at  the  end,  and  the  word  is  written  large  over  the  final  balance- 
ment  of  accounts.  The  second  truth  is  the  truth  about  the  cause 
of  suffering,  which  is  the  craving  for  the  satisfaction  of  desire, 
the  craving  that  maintains  life  and  causes  its  renewal.  The  third 
truth  is  that  suffering  is  brought  to  an  end  by  the  conquest  of 
tliis  craving.  And  the  fourth  truth  is  that  the  path  leading  to 
the  cessation  of  suffering  is  the  "noble  eight-fold  path,"  by 
wliich  the  craving  of  desire  is  laid  to  rest.^  The  eight-fold  path, 
therefore,  contains  in  little  both  the  ethics  and  the  practical 
religion  of  Buddhism,  which  is  on  the  one  hand  opposed  to  the 
sensuality  of  this  life,  and  on  the  other  to  the  ascetic  extremes 
of  Brahmanism. 

"  What  is  that  middle  path,  0  Bhikkus,  avoiding  these  two 
extremes  discovered  by  the  Tathagata  ?     Verily  !  it  is  this  noble 
eight-fold  path ;   that  is  to  say — 
"  Right  views; 

Right  aspirations ; 

Right  speech ; 

Right  conduct ; 

Right  livelihood ; 

Right  effort ; 

Right  mindfulness ;  and 

Right  contemplation."  ^ 

The  pursuit  of  the  eight-fold  noble  path  liberated  the  follower 
of  Buddha  from  the  ten  following  fetters  in  succession,  namely  : 
1.  Delusion    of     self.     2.  Doubt,     3.  Dependence     on     works. 

1  Buddhist  Suttaa,  Sacred  Boohs  of  the  East,  vol.  xi.  pp.  148,  149. 
*  Op.  cit.,  pp.  146,  147. 


480  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

4,  Sensuality.  5.  Hatred.  6.  Love  of  life  on  earth.  7.  Desire 
for  life  in  Heaven.  8.  Pride.  9.  Self -righteousness.  10.  Ignor- 
ance. It  is  not  till  the  first  five  fetters  are  destroyed  that  the 
Buddliist  becomes  an  Arahat,  and  it  is  not  until  the  remaining 
five  are  aboHshed  that  he  has  finally  put  an  end  to  delusion  and 
sorrow.^  It  was  no>t  impossible  for  a  layman,  living  the  ordinary 
life  of  a  householder,  to  enter  upon  the  path  and  even  to  attain 
to  Nirvana,  but  though  not  impossible,  it  was  extremely  difficult. 

"  Full  of  hindrances  is  household  life,  a  path  defiled  by  passion ; 
free  as  the  air  is  the  life  of  him  who  has  renounced  all  worldly 
things.  How  difficult  is  it  for  the  man  who  dwells  at  home  to  live 
the  higher  life  in  all  its  fulness,  in  all  its  purity,  in  all  its  bright 
perfection  !  Let  me  then  cut  off  my  hair  and  beard,  let  me  clothe 
myself  in  the  orange-coloured  robes,  and  let  me  go  forth  from  a 
household  life  into  the  homeless  state."  ^ 

Hence  the  order  of  mendicants,  or  Bhikkhus,  an  order  of  celi- 
bates who  were  to  attain  to  Nirvana,  or  to  tread  the  path  to 
Nirvana,  as  each  individual's  capacity  would  allow  him,  and  to 
reach  it,  not  by  exaggerated  abstinence,  or  extreme  mortification 
of  the  flesh,  but  by  simple  adhesion  to  rules  of  life  based  on  the 
conception  of  virtue  as  resting  in  selflessness,  the  avoidance  of 
desire,  the  avoidance  of  injury  to  others,  the  cultivation  of  love, 
and  the  destruction  of  hatred.  Tliese  were  the  simple  elements 
constituting  the  rules  of  the  Bhikkhu's  life  and  simply  formulated 
in  the  eight  precepts — 

"  One  should  not  destroy  life. 
One  should  not  take  that  which  is  not  given. 
One  should  not  tell  lies. 

One  should  not  become  a  drinker  of  intoxicating  liquors. 
One  should  refrain  from  unlawful  sexual  intercourse — an 

ignoble  thing. 
One  should  not  eat  unseasonable  food  at  nights. 
One  should  not  wear  garlands  or  use  perfumes. 
One  should  sleep  on  a  mat  spread  on  the  ground."  ^ 

These  eight  precepts  apply  to  all  Buddhists,  including  house- 
holders.* Two  more  are  binding  on  mendicants,  namely,  to 
abstain  from  dancing,  music,  and  stage  plaj'^s,  and  from  the  use 
of  gold  and  silver.  These  form  with  the  first  eight  the  ten  moral 
rules  of  the  order.  With  these  may  be  compared  the  division 
into  ten  sins — 

1  See  Rhys  Davids,  Manual  of  Buddhism,  pp.  109,  110,  etc. 

2  Suttas,  pp.  187,  188. 

^  Rhys  Davids,  Buddhism,  p.  139. 

*  The  three  last,  however,  are  not  obligatory. 


THE   WORLD   AND  THE  SPIRIT  481 

"  Three  of  the  body- 
Taking  life, 

Theft  (taking  what  has  not  been  given). 

Unlawful  sexual  intercourse. 
Four  of  speech — 

Lying, 

Slander  (includes  '  saying  here  what  one  hears  there  '), 

Abuse  (swearing), 

Vain  conversation. 
Three  of  the  mind — 

Covetousness, 

Malice, 

Scepticism,"  ^ 

Further,  the  Buddhist  Manual  of  Ethics  classifies  moral  duties 
under  six  heads  :  The  natural  obligations  of  Parents  and 
Children,  of  Pupils  and  Teachers,  of  Husbands  and  Wives,  of 
Friends  and  Companions,  of  Masters  and  Servants,  of  Laymen 
and  the  Religious.  The  insistence  on  the  duties  of  the  husband 
is  noteworthy. 

"  The  husband  should  cherish  his  wife — 
By  treating  her  with  respect. 
By  treating  her  with  kindness. 
By  being  faithful  to  her. 
By  causing  her  to  be  honoured  by  others, 
By  giving  her  suitable  ornaments  and  clothes."  * 

Still  more  the  injunctions  on  masters. 

"  The  master  should  provide  for  the  welfare  of  his  dependent* — 
By  apportioning  work  to  them  according  to  their  strength. 
By  supplying  suitable  food  and  wages. 
By  tending  them  in  sickness. 
By  sharing  with  them  unusual  delicacies. 
By  now  and  then  granting  them  holidays."  ^ 

The  Manual  concludes  that  liberality,  courtesy,  kindliness  and 
unselfishness — "these  are  to  the  world  what  the  linchpin  is  to 
the  rolling  chariot." 

6.  The  character  of  the  true  Buddliist  is  summarized  in  the 
short  paragraphs  on  conduct. 

"  He  abstains  from  destroying  life  .  .  .  and  full  of  modesty  and 
pity,  he  is  compassionate  and  kind  to  all  creatures  that  have 
life.  .  .  .  He  abstains  from  taking  anything  not  given.  .  .  .  He 
lives  a  life  of  chastity  and  purity,  averse  to  the  low  habit  of  sexual 

1  Rhys  Davids,  Buddhism,  p.  142.         ^  Op.  cit.,  p.  145.         '  ib.,  p.  146. 
I  I 


482  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

intercourse.  .  .  .  He  abstains  from  speaking  falsehood.  He 
abstains  from  calumny.  What  he  hears  here,  he  repeats  not 
elsewhere  to  raise  a  quarrel  against  the  people  here.  Thus  he 
lives  as  a  binder  together  of  those  who  are  divided,  a  peace-maker, 
a  lover  of  peace,  impassioned  for  peace,  a  speaker  of  words  that 
make  for  peace.  .  .  .  He  abstains  from  harsh  language.  What- 
ever word  is  humane,  pleasant  to  the  ear,  lovely,  reaching  to  the 
heart,  urbane,  pleasing  to  the  people,  beloved  of  the  people — 
such  are  the  words  he  speaks.  .  .  .  He  abstains  from  vain  con- 
versation. He  refrains  from  injuring  any  herb  or  any  creature. 
He  takes  but  one  meal  a  day,  .  .  .  He  abstains  from  dancing, 
singing,  music,  and  theatrical  shows.  .  .  .  He  abstains  from  the 
getting  of  silver  or  gold.  He  abstains  from  the  getting  of  grain 
uncooked.  He  abstains  from  the  getting  of  flesh  that  is  raw. 
He  abstains  from  the  getting  of  any  woman  or  girl.  He  abstains 
from  the  getting  of  bondmen  or  bondwomen.  He  abstains  from 
the  getting  of  sheep  or  goats.  .  .  .  He  refrains  from  carrying 
out  those  commissions  on  which  messengers  can  be  sent.  He 
refrains  from  buying  and  selling.  He  abstains  from  tricks  Avith 
false  weights,  alloyed  metals,  or  false  measures.  He  abstains 
from  bribery,  cheating,  fraud,  and  crooked  ways.  He  refrains 
from  maiming,  killing,  imprisoning,  highway  robbery,  plundering 
villages,  or  obtaining  money  by  threats  of  violence,"  ^ 

These  precepts  are  expanded  in  the  "  middle  "  and  "long  " 
paragraphs,  which  further  reprehend  combats  between  animals, 
games  of  many  kinds  "  detrimental  to  progress  in  virtue,"  mean 
talk,  such  as  "  tales  of  kings,  of  robbers,  or  of  ministers  of  state  : 
tales  of  arms,  of  war,  of  terror,  conversation  respecting  women, 
warriors,  demi-gods,  ghost  stories,  empty  tales,"  They  depre- 
cate wrangUng  about  orthodoxy ;  reproach  those  who  perform 
"  the  servile  duties  of  a  go-between,"  that  is,  between  kings, 
ministers  of  state,  Brahmans,  etc, ;  denounce  hypocrisy,  divina- 
tion, magic  ;  reprobate  those  who  make  their  living  by  predict- 
ing eclipses,  or  a  rainfall,  "or  by  drawing  up  deeds,  making  up 
accounts,  giving  pills,  making  verses,  or  arguing  points  of 
casuistry  "  ;  by  giving  advice  about  marriage,  imparting  magical 
formulae,  and  so  forth.  If  some  of  these  prohibitions  appear  to 
us  oddly  assorted,  the  general  purport  is  clear  enough.  The 
follower  of  Buddlia  is  to  hold  aloof,  on  the  one  hand,  from  the 
frivolities  and  sensualities  of  the  life  of  pleasure ;  on  the  other, 
from  the  quackery  and  professions  ^  mixed  up  with  quackery 

1  Suttas,  p.  189. 

-  In  the  Vinaya  Texts,  vol.  iii.  p.  152,  sacrifices  to  the  gods  are  included 
among  the  "  low  arts  "  which  a  Bhikkhu  is  not  to  teach.  On  the  other 
}iand,  in  vol.  ii.  p.  103,  the  prudent  man,  wherever  he  takes  up  his  abode, 
id  recommended  "  to  make  offerings  "  to  all  such  deities  as  may  be  there. 


THE  WORLD   AND  THE  SPIRIT  483 

into  which  the  lower  forms  of  rehgion  so  easily  slide.  But 
underlpng  all  this  is  the  ideal  goodness  as  consisting  in  universal 
love. 

"  And  he  lets  his  mind  pervade  one  quarter  of  the  world  with 
thoughts  of  love,  and  so  the  second,  and  so  the  third,  and  so  the 
fourth.  And  thus  the  whole  wide  world,  above,  below,  around 
and  everywhere,  does  he  continue  to  pervade  with  heart  of  Love, 
far-reaching,  grown  great,  and  beyond  measure.  Just,  Vasettha, 
as  a  mighty  trumpeter  makes  himself  heard — and  that  without 
difficulty — in  all  the  four  directions ;  even  so  of  all  things  that 
have  shape  or  life,  there  is  not  one  that  he  passes  by  or  leaves 
aside,  but  regards  them  all  with  mind  set  free,  and  deep-felt 
love."  1 

With  this  we  may  compare  the  character  of  the  great  King  of 
Glory,  the  ideal  Buddhist  ruler,  realized  in  some  measure  in  the 
great  King  Asoka  of  Magadlia.  The  King  of  Glory's  greatness 
depends  on  three  quahties  :  those  of  forgiving,  of  self -conquest, 
and  self-control.  And  in  this  rule  of  love  the  doctrine  of  Lao  Tse 
is  fully  observed. 

"  For  never  in  this  world  does  hatred  cease  by  hatred; 

Hatred  ceases  by  love ;   this  is  always  its  nature." 
"  Whatever  an  enemy  may  do  to  an  enemy, 

Or  an  angry  man  to  an  angry  man, 

A  mind  intent  on  what  is  wrong  ' 

Works  evil  worse." 
"  One  may  conquer  a  thousand  thousand  men  in  battle, 

But  he  who  conquers  himself  alone  is  the  greatest  victor." 
"  Let  a  man  overcome  anger  by  kindness,  evil  by  good; 

Let  him  conquer  the  stingy  by  a  gift,  the  liar  by  truth."  - 

The  Gospel  precepts  of  humility  and  self-knowledge  naturally 
find  a  place  here.  "  Not  the  perversities  of  others,  not  their 
sins  of  commission  and  omission,  but  his  own  misdeeds  and 
negligences  should  a  sage  take  notice  of  " ;  and  again,  "  One's 
own  self  conquered  is  better  than  all  other  people."  ^  Spiritual 
perfection  is  the  supreme  object  and  higher  than  all  sacrifices. 

1  Buddhist  Suttas,  p.  201. 

2  Rhys  Davids,  p.  128.  Compare  the  story  of  King  Dighili  in  the  Vinaya 
Texts,  vol.  ii.  p.  298  ff. 

^  Dhainmapada,  chap.  iv.  50;  ib.,  viii.  104.  Compare  the  rule,  "No 
Bhikkhu  who  has  not  given  leave  may  be  reproved  for  an  offence — I 
prescribe,  O  Bhikkhus,  that  you  reprove  Bhikkhus  for  an  offence  only 
after  having  first  asked  leave  by  saying.  Give  me  leave,  reverend  brother, 
I  wish  to  speak  to  you  "  (Vinaya  Texts,  vol.  i.  p.  264). 

For  the  mildness  of  penalties  in  the  early  I3uddhist  order,  cf.  vol.  iii. 
p.  119,  and  the  translator's  remarks. 


484  MORALS  IN   EVOLUTION 

"  If  a  man  for  a  hundred  years  sacrifice  month  by  month  with 
a  thousand,  and  if  he,  but  for  one  moment,  pay  homage  to  a 
man  whose  soul  is  grounded  (in  true  luiowledge),  better  is  that 
homage  than  a  sacrifice  for  a  hundred  years."  ^  The  "  Arahat " 
is  as  far  above  earthly  things  as  the  stoical  wise  man.  "  As 
a  solid  rock  is  not  shaken  by  the  wind,  Avise  people  falter  not 
amidst  blame  and  praise."  ^  But  by  the  same  consequence 
responsibihty  and  purification  are  individual.  "  By  oneself  the 
evil  is  done,  by  oneself  one  suffers,  by  oneself  evil  is  left  undone, 
by  oneself  one  is  purified.  .  .  .  No  one  can  purify  another."  ^ 
And  the  essence  of  purification  is  the  ethical  change  of  heart. 
Buddha  accepts  the  confession  and  petition  for  forgiveness  of 
Vaddha  the  Tikkhavi,  "For  this,  0  friend  Vaddha,  is  the 
advantage  of  the  discipline  of  the  noble  one,  that  he  who  looks 
upon  his  sin  as  sin  and  makes  amends  for  it  as  is  meet,  he  becomes 
able  in  future  to  restrain  himself  therefrom."  *  The  saint  must 
not  look  for  success  in  this  world.  He  finds  his  happiness  in 
disregarding  its  hate,  "  We  live  happily  indeed,  not  hating 
those  who  hate  us."  ^  Again,  "  Victory  breeds  hatred,  for  the 
conquered  is  unhappy."  ®  Again,  "  Not  to  blame,  not  to 
strike  ...  to  be  moderate  in  eating,  to  sleep  and  sit  alone  and 
to  dwell  on  the  highest  thoughts,  this  is  the  teaching  of  the 
Awakened."  '  Hence  the  duty  of  non-resistance  :  "  No  one 
should  attack  a  Brahmana,  but  no  Brahmana  (if  attacked) 
should  let  himself  fly  at  his  aggressor.  Woe  to  him  who  strikes 
a  Brahmana,  more  woe  to  him  who  flies  at  his  aggressor."  ^  The 
distinctions  of  caste  are  overcome — 

"  I  do  not  call  a  man  a  Brahmana  because  of  his  origin,  or  of 
his  mother,  but  the  poor  who  is  free  from  all  attachments,  him  I 
call  a  Brahmana."  ^     "  Him  I  call  indeed  a  Brahmana  who, 

^  Dhaminapada,  viii.  106.  -  ib.,  vi.  81. 

^   lb.,  xii.  165.  *   Vinaya  Texts,  vol.  iii.  p.  123. 

'  Dhammapada,  xv.  197.  *  ib.,  xv.  201. 

'  ib.,  xiv.  185.  *  ib.,  xxvi.  389. 

*  Ordination,  however,  was  forbidden,  not  only  to  criminals  and  debtors 
but  to  slaves,  eunuchs,  dwarfs,  hunchbacks,  one-eyed  people,  the  bhnd, 
dumb  and  deaf ;  to  a  person  that  gave  offence  (by  depravity)  to  those  who 
saw  him,  etc.  {Vinaya  Texts,  vol.  i.  pp.  199,  224-225;  of.  p.  215).  A 
quaint  rule  prohibits  the  ordination  of  an  animal  on  the  strength  of  a  story 
of  a  serpent  taking  hiunan  shape  and  becoming  ordained  (ib.,  pp.  217-219), 
and  one  of  the  questions  asked  of  candidates  was,  "  Are  you  a  human 
being  ?  "  (vol.  iii.  p.  349). 

Women  were  admitted  to  ordination,  but  according  to  the  account  in 
the  Vinaya  Texts  with  much  reluctance  and  in  an  inferior  position.  The 
Buddha  at  first  dechnes  altogether  to  institute  a  female  order,  but  is  over- 
persuaded  by  the  faithful  Ananda.  Yet  he  foresees  disaster  as  a  consequence, 
wholly  refuses  to  put  Bhikkhunis  and  Bhikkhus  on  an  equality,  forbids  any 
censure  of  Bhikkhus  by  Bhikkhunis,  and  ordains  that  a  Bhikkhuni  even 


THE   WORLD  AND  THE  SPIRIT  485 

though  he  has  committed  no  offence,  endures  reproach,  stripes, 
and  bonds,  who  has  endurance  for  his  force,  and  strength  for  his 
army.  Him  I  call  indeed  a  Brahmana  who  is  tolerant  with  the 
intolerant,  mild  with  the  violent,  and  free  from  greed  among  the 
greedy.  Him  I  call  indeed  a  Brahmana  from  whom  anger  and 
hatred,  pride  and  hypocrisy  have  dropt  like  a  mustard-seed  from 
the  point  of  a  needle."  ^ 

This  morality  does  not  rest  on  a  theological  basis ;  though 
Buddha  does  not  deny  the  gods,  they  play  no  important  part  in 
his  scheme.  It  is  rather  the  inherent  character  and  inevitable 
consequences  of  conduct  with  which  he  is  concerned.  The  ideas 
of  rew^ard  and  punishment  are  not  indeed  wholly  absent,  for  not 
only  is  there  reward  in  a  temporary  heaven  and  punishment  in 
a  temporary  hell  for  those  in  the  lower  stages  of  the  path,^  but 
those  who  reach  the  highest  are  rewarded  by  the  final  cessation 
of  the  circle  of  existences.  But  this,  after  all,  is  a  very  negative 
reward.  The  noblest  prize  that  Buddha  offers  to  man  is  to 
attain  in  this  life  and  now  to  inward  perfection.  Such  perfection 
has  its  essence  in  the  absence  of  passion  and  desire,  and  its 
manifestation  in  universal  love,  in  forgiveness  of  sin,  in  for- 
bearance with  the  wrong-doer,  in  humility  and  self-respect.  It 
is  an  inward  state  obtainable  by  all  men,  and  also  by  all  women, 
independently  of  caste,  nationahty,  or  sex.  Love  is  for  all  and 
salvation  is  open  to  all. 

7.  The  selflessness  of  spiritual  rehgion  is  carried  to  the  point 
of  seff-emptying,  the  negation  of  action  along  Avitli  desire,  in 
some  forms  of  Mysticism.  Of  such  Quietism  probably  the 
earliest  extant  expression  is  to  be  found  in  The  Path  of  Virtue, 
by  Lao  Tse,  an  older  contemporary  of  Confucius.  Lao  Tse  is 
no  theologian,  but  liis  system  is  historically  connected  with  the 
Chinese  conception  of  magical  influences  interpenetrating  the 
whole  physical  world.  The  Tao,  which  is  variously  rendered  by 
Way,  Path,  Truth,  Reason,^  is  the  course  or  process  of  the 
universe,*  or  perhaps,  we  may  say,  it  is  the  one  principle  on 

if  a  hundred  years  old,  shall  make  obeisance  to  a  Bhikkhu  even  if  newly- 
initiated.  On  the  other  hand,  all  confessions  of  women  are  to  be  made  to 
women,  and  all  disciplinary  proceedings  to  be  carried  out  in  the  same  way 
{Vinaya  Texts,  vol.  iii.  pp.  320-332).  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  remark 
that  the  ascription  of  these  details  to  Buddha  himself  is  of  no  historical 
authority. 

1  Dhammapada,  p.  92,  sees.  396,  399,  406,  407. 

2  Strictly  speaking,  this  part  of  the  doctrine  would  have  to  be  qualified 
by  what  has  been  said  above  as  to  Karma. 

^  Old,  The  Simple  Way,  p.  20. 

*  De  Groot,  Religions  System  of  China,  iv.  67. 


486  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

which  all  the  processes  making  up  the  life  of  the  universe  depend, 
or  in  which  they  are  expressed.  It  is  a  magical  conception  refined 
into  a  metaphysical  principle  and  made  the  basis  of  a  system  of 
mystical  ethics.  For  the  leading  idea  of  the  Tao  would  appear 
to  be  that  man  should  surrender  himself,  his  individuahty,  his 
self-assertion,  his  efforts  to  be  positive,  to  rule  others  for  their 
good,  to  be  virtuous  and  benevolent — that  he  should  abandon  this 
vain  self-assertion,  and  merge  himself  in  the  main  stream  of 
being  which,  flowing  on  its  OAvn  course,  sets  all  wrongs  right, 
brings  the  proud  to  the  ground,  and  exalts  the  humble  and 
meek.  "  The  sage  governs  by  ridding  the  heart  of  its  desires."  ^ 
Going  back  to  one's  origin  is  called  Peace  :  it  is  the  giving 
oneself  over  to  the  inevitable.^  The  mystical  paradox  is  that 
this  excellent  passivity  is  in  reality  the  most  effective  of  all  modes 
of  action.  The  sage  "  acts  through  non-action  and  by  this  he 
governs  all."  ^  The  soft  and  the  weak  overcome  the  hard  and 
strong.*  To  teach  without  words  and  to  be  useful  without  action 
— few  among  men  attain  to  this.^  Even  from  the  personal  point 
of  view  it  is  selflessness  and  restraint  that  yield  happiness. 
"  The  more  he  (the  wise  man)  gives  to  others,  the  more  he  has 
for  his  own."  ^  "  (The  woman)  conquers  the  man  by  continual 
quietness."  '  This  wisdom  practised  by  each  would  make  virtue 
prevail  in  the  community.^  For  coercion  is  no  remedy  for  social 
ills.  "  When  the  actions  of  the  people  are  controlled  by  pro- 
hibited laws,  the  country  becomes  more  and  more  impoverished. 
The  wise  man  says,  '  I  will  design  notliing,  and  the  people  shall 
shape  themselves.  I  will  keep  quiet,  and  the  people  will  find 
their  rest.  I  will  not  assert  myself,  and  the  people  will  come 
forth.  I  will  discountenance  ambition,  and  the  people  will  re- 
vert to  their  natural  simplicity.'  "  ^  But  not  only  is  the  govern- 
ment of  the  clever  politician  a  "  scourge."  The  ordinary  virtue* 
are  really  stumbhng-blocks  and  rocks  of  offence.  "  By  giving  up 
their  self -righteousness  and  abandoning  their  wisdom  the  people 
would  be  immensely  improved.  Forsaking  Charity  and  Duty 
to  the  neighbour,  they  might  revert  to  their  natural  relations."^" 
That  is  to  say,  each  should  cultivate  inward  perfection  and 
entire  restraint — outward  active  virtues  are  a  poor  substitute  for 
these.  Wlien  Tao  is  lost  it  gives  place  to  virtue,  similarly  in  a 
descending  scale  virtue  yields  to  benevolence,  benevolence  to 
justice,    Justice   to   expediency.^^     In    tliis    excellent    passivity 

^  Old,  chap.  iii.  ^  ib.,  chap.  xvi.  '  ib.,  chap,  iii, 

*  ib.,  chap,  xxxvi.  *  ib.,  chap.  xHii.  "  ib.,  chap.  Ixxxi. 

'  ib.,  chap.  Ixi.  ^  ib.,  chap.  hx.  *  ib.,    chap.  Ivii. 

^'  lb.,  chap.  xix.  ^^  ib.,  chap,  xxxviii. 


THE  WORLD   AND  THE  SPIRIT  487 

certain  virtues  are  inculcated  in  their  most  ideal  form — humility, 
universal  charity,  love  of  enemies  :  "  The  wise  man  knows  no 
distinctions ;  he  beholds  all  men  as  things  made  for  holy  uses."  ^ 
"  By  governing  the  people  with  love  it  is  possible  to  remain 
unknown."  ^  "  To  joy  in  conquest  is  to  joy  in  the  loss  of  human 
life,"  ^  and  "  whosoever  humbleth  liimself  shall  be  exalted, 
and  whosoever  exalteth  himself  shall  be  abased."  *  The  doctrine 
of  forgiveness  is  pushed  to  its  furthest  point  :  "I  would  return 
good  for  good.  I  would  also  return  good  for  evil.  ...  I  would 
likewise  meet  suspicion  with  confidence."  ^  And  though  wisdom 
prescribes  passivity  this  is  not  from  selfishness,  for  "the  wise 
man  lives  .  .  .  with  modest  restraint,  and  his  heart  goes  out 
in  sympathy  to  all  men."  ^  He  is  inactive  because  this  is  the 
method  of  true  happiness.  For  "  the  wise  man  is  a  constant  and 
good  helper  of  his  fellows,"  '  and  the  virtuous  man  acts  "  without 
hope  of  reward."  ^ 

Such  is  the  first  recorded  expression  of  the  full  doctrine  of 
non-resistance — a  doctrine  wliich,  however  one-sided  and  in- 
applicable to  the  affairs  of  men,  enshrines  the  profound  truth 
that  moral  influence  is  distinct  from  and  superior  to  physical  com- 
pulsion ;  that  force,  however  necessary  in  immediate  exigencies, 
settles  nothing  in  the  end,  but  is  a  menace  to  the  moral  balance 
of  the  society  and  of  the  individual  that  emploj'^  it ;  that  men 
are  capable  of  being  influenced,  not  only  by  retaliation,  but  also, 
and  more  profoundly,  by  the  deliberate  refusal  to  retaliate.  The 
system  of  Quietism  gave  an  extreme  expression  to  these  truths. 
The  world  will  always  reject  its  ideas,  and  will  always  be  haunted 
by  them  until  the  time  comes  when,  disregarding  the  extrava- 
gances of  form  in  which  they  are  uttered,  it  begins  to  ask  itself 
in  sober  earnestness  what  truth  they  contain. 

Putting  aside  the  idiosyncrasies  of  different  doctrines  and 
considering  only  the  ethical  teacliing  of  the  spiritual  religions^ — • 
what  advances  and  what  limitations  do  we  find  ?  To  begin  with 
— a  certain  ideal  of  character  is  preached  as  the  goal  of  man's 
endeavours.  To  cultivate  the  best  within  himself  and  to  aid  others 
in  the  same  work  is  the  means  of  salvation.  Human  character, 
which  in  the  lowest  stages  of  moral  thought  is  scarcely  ever 
appreciated  as  a  condition  and  cause  of  actions,  is  now  a  distinct 
object  of  activity,  an  end  and  aim  of  endeavour.  Next,  this  ideal 
of  character  is  conceived  negatively  as  the  destruction  of  selfish- 
ness, positively  as  the  exercise  of  universal  love.     Here,  again, 

^  Old,  chap.  V.  '^  ib.,  chap.  x.  ^  ib.,  cliap.  xxxi. 

*  ib.,  chap.  xxii.  ^  ib.,  chap.  xlix.  *  ib.,  chap.  xlix. 

'  lb.,  chap,  xxvii.  ^  ib.,  chap.  x. 


488  MORALS   IX   EVOLUTIOX 

elements  which  exist  in  all  ethics  from  the  lowest  stage  upwards 
are  separated  out  and  made  into  principles  ruhng  conduct.  For 
in  the  most  primitive  sense  of  duty  to  fellow-clansmen  there  is 
something  of  love  and  sometliing  of  unselfishness,  and  sometliing 
of  the  surrender  of  one's  own  desires  and  ways  of  thinking  and 
personal  pride.  But  these  social  centripetal  quahties  that  tend 
to  bind  men  together  are  inextricably  intertwined  "nith  the  fierce 
resentments,  the  pride  of  family  or  race,  the  antagonisms  which 
break  up  human  fellowship  and  keep  men  apart.  Hence  the 
group-morahty  of  early  times  that  we  have  described.  Now  in 
this  higher  stage  of  rehgion  and  ethics  we  see  the  socially  con- 
structive quahties  distinguished  and  ideahzed  and  recognized  as 
the  source  of  human  salvation.  And  yet.  so  roundabout  is  the 
path  of  human  advance,  in  the  very  act  and  fact  of  being  so 
ideahzed,  their  character  as  social  quahties.  their  usefulness  in 
organizing  society,  are  in  large  measure  annulled.  They  are  con- 
ceived as  being  best  cultivated  apart  from  ordinary  human  ties, 
and  as  the  foundation  of  a  monastic  brotherhood  rather  than  of 
a  Hving  human  society.  Their  negative  side  is  emphasized. 
Self -negation  is  made  more  prominent  than  active  kindness  and 
love.  Universal  benevolence  is  held  incompatible  '«ith  the 
passionate  personal  love  of  woman  and  of  child.  The  practice 
of  ideal  virtues  seems  too  hard  for  the  householder  and  the  man 
of  affairs.  Those  very  quahties  which  should  refine  the  world 
are  thought  to  be  soiled  by  the  world.  Self -surrender  and 
universal  love — the  two  pillars  of  the  higher  ethics — arc  set  up, 
but  they  are  left  standing  in  a  void. 


CHAPTER   IV 

MONOTHEISM 

1.  To  the  western  world  spirittial  religion  is  familiar  maiTiV 
in  the  form  of  the  worship  of  one  God.  the  creator  and  sustainer 
of  all  that  is.  If  we  conceive  this  form  of  behef  as  developing 
out  of  polytheism  we  may  find  approximations  to  it  by  several 
distinct  paths.  There  is.  first,  the  exaltation  of  one  God  as  king 
over  the  rest,  which  will  only  lead  to  monotheism  if  the  lesser 
deities  become  degraded  to  some  lower  plane  of  being.  There 
is,  secondly,  the  identification  of  all  the  gods  with  some  one,  an 
example  of  which  has  been  seen  in  the  Vedas.  This  is  a  natural 
effect  of  the  feehng  of  worship,  but  it  is  checked  in  its  develop- 
ment by  the  tendency  to  apply  it  to  each  god  in  turn,  the  result 
of  which  is  that  no  single  god  obtains  a  definite  and  permanent 
supremacy.  There  is  another  and  more  subtle  variant  of  this 
process  wherein  the  several  gods  of  mythology  come  to  be  re- 
garded as  manifestations  of  an  underlying  force,  principle,  or 
spirit,  which  is  the  sole  reahty — a  line  of  development  which 
leads  rather  towards  Pantheism  than  towards  Monotheism  in 
the  strict  sense  of  the  t^rm.  There  is,  lastly,  the  line  of  develop- 
ment which  hes  through  the  exclusive  worship  of  one  national 
god.  This  is  the  path  through  Monolatry  to  Monotheism,  which 
was  trodden  in  particular  by  the  Jews.  The  Yahveh  of  early 
Judaism  was  not  the  one  Gk)d,  as  we  understand  the  term,  but 
was  the  only  God  whom  it  was  lawful  for  the  Jews  to  worship. 
Yahveh  was  the  God  of  Israel,  just  as  Chemosh  was  the  God  of 
Moab.  To  each  people,  in  Jephthah's  view,  their  god  has  given 
their  land,  and  this  gift  is  their  title  thereto.^  The  worship  of 
Yahveh  is  properly  confined  to  the  soil  of  Canaan.  To  be  driven 
thence  is  to  be  compelled  to  serve  other  gods.^    Even  in  Deu- 

^  Judges  xi.  24.  "  Wilt  thou  not  possess  that  which  Chemosh  thy  god 
giveth  thee  to  possess  ?  So  whomsoever  the  Lrord  our  Grod  hath  dis- 
possessed from  before  us,  them  will  we  possess."  The  power  of  Chemosh 
seems  impHcitly  recogniz^  in  2  Kings  iii.  27.  Cf.  Montefiore,  Hibbert 
Lectures,  p.  35. 

*  Montefiore,  t6.  1  Samuel  xsvi.  19.  Apparently  this  is  the  reason  why 
Xaaraan  beg?  two  mules"  burden  of  earth  of  Elisha,  "  for  thy  servant  will 
henceforth  oner  neither  burnt  cGering  nor  sacrifice  unto  other  gods  but 
unto  the  Lord  "  (2  Kings  v.  IT).  These  must  be  ofiered  on  Canaanitisb 
soil. 

4S^ 


490  MORALS  IN   EVOLUTION 

teronomy,  the  First  Commandment  does  not  deny  the  existence 
of  other  gods,  but  forbids  their  being  worshipped  "  before  Me  " 
or  "  beside  Me."  ^  Indeed,  the  Hosts  of  Heaven  were  in  reaUty 
gods  appointed  by  Yahveh  himself  for  the  protection  of  the 
nations  of  the  world.  They  were  gods,  but  God  himself  sat 
supreme  in  the  congregation  of  gods,  and  while  he  had  divided 
the  lower  gods  among  all  the  peoples  under  heaven,  he  had  re- 
served the  direct  worsliip  of  himself  alone  for  the  children  of 
Israel.^  Even  when  God  controls  the  whole  upper  earth,  his 
writ  does  not  at  first  run  in  the  underworld  :  "  Shall  the  pit  give 
thanks  unto  Thee,  or  shall  it  declare  Thy  truth  ?  "  It  is  a  late 
Psalm  wliich  says  :  "  If  I  climb  up  into  heaven  Thou  art  there, 
if  I  go  do^vn  into  hell  Thou  art  there  also."^  The  oneness  of 
God  and  his  supremacy  over  the  whole  earth  are  ideas  which 
arose  comparatively  late  in  Hebrew  thought,  and  are  conse- 
quences rather  than  causes  of  a  changed  conception  of  his  char- 
acter. If  Monotheism  is  taught — though  indeed  the  teaching 
is  implied  rather  than  distinctly  avowed — in  the  prophets  before 
the  exile,  it  is  because  with  them  the  spirituality  of  Yahveh,  his 
indifference  to  sacrifice  and  his  love  of  righteousness  are  always 
first  and  foremost.  It  is  his  unique  character  which  makes  him 
the  one  and  only  God.  God  is  not  the  Ideal  Being  because 
he  is  One,  but  is  One  because  he  is  the  Ideal  Being,  the 
impersonation  of  the  moral  law.  This  is  widely  removed  from 
the  primitive  conception.  The  earlier  Yahveh  had  a  well-defined 
human  personality.  He  walks  in  the  garden  of  Eden  in  the  cool 
of  the  evening.  He  smells  the  sweet  savour  of  Noah's  sacrifice 
and  declares  that  he  will  never  again  curse  the  ground  for  man's 
sake.  He  is  not  wholly  without  fear  of  the  men  that  he  has 
made.  Thej^  may  obtain  too  mucli  power.  Adam  "is  become 
one  of  Us."  When  men  have  all  one  language  they  attempt, 
like  the  giants  who  piled  Pelion  on  Ossa,  to  build  a  tower  that 
will  reach  to  heaven,  "  and  now  nothing  will  be  wdthholden  from 
them  which  thej^  purpose  to  do."  "So  the  Lord,"  having  con- 
founded their  language,  "  scattered  them  abroad  upon  the  face 
of  all  the  earth."  *     He  has  not  always  a  human  shape.     He  can 

^  R.V.  marginal  rendering,  Deut.  v.  7. 

-  Deut.  iv.  19.  Cf.  Driver,  Deut.,  pp.  70,  71.  Here  inonolatry  fuse? 
with  the  conception  of  a  chief  god.  Yet  in  the  very  same  chapter  we  find 
a  different  thought,  the  thought  achieved  with  difficulty  by  the  prophets. 
The  gods  of  the  nations  are  idols,  "  the  work  of  men's  hands,  wood  and 
stone,  which  neither  see,  nor  hear,  nor  eat,  nor  smell  "  (Deut.  iv.  28). 
Parallel  passages  are  given  by  Driver,  p.  73. 

'  The  same  idea,  however,  as  Dr.  Carpenter  points  out  to  me,  is  ex- 
pressed by  as  early  a  wi'iter  as  Amos  (ix.  2). 

^  Genesis  xi.  G  -8. 


MONOTHEISM  491 

appear  iu  a  thick  darkness  or  in  a  burning  bush.  Sometimes 
he  seems  to  dwell  among  the  cherubim  of  the  ark.  Sometimes 
he  almost  seems  identical  with  the  ark  itself.^  He  is  in  magic 
fashion  dangerous  to  his  worshippers.  To  touch  the  ark,  or 
"  to  break  through  unto  the  Lord  to  gaze  "^  was  fatal.  In  other 
accounts  he  lives  on  Mount  Seir  and  comes  forth  thence  to  battle. 
Afterwards  he  chooses  Mount  Sion  for  his  habitation,  and  from 
Sion  the  prophet  Amos  declares  that  he  would  roar  and  utter 
his  voice  from  Jerusalem.^ 

As  a  human  personality  he  is  half  a  barbaric  cliief,  ha,lf  an 
Oriental  despot,  superhuman  Uke  the  gods  of  Polytheism,  be- 
cause greater  and  more  powerful  than  man,  but  no  ideal  as  to 
his  moral  attributes ;  a  jealous  God,  as  he  describes  himself, 
capable  of  punishing  the  cliildren  for  the  fathers,  according  to 
the  barbaric  principle  of  collective  responsibility ;  occasionally 
on  the  point  of  doing  rash  things,  from  which  Moses,  his  Grand 
Vizier,  with  difficulty  restrains  him — asking  liim  to  consider 
what  people  will  say,  and  representing  tha.t  if  he  destroys  his 
nation,  others  will  ascribe  it  not  to  his  want  of  will,  but  to  his 
want  of  power  to  preserve  them.*  He  is  certainly  from  the  first 
the  God  of  Righteousness  in  the  sense  that  he  is  the  source  and 
upholder  of  the  law.  But  it  is  the  law  of  a  barbaric  people,  and 
a  warhke  race — a  law  with  all  the  features  of  early  group-morahty 
and  with  some  of  them  unpleasingly  exaggerated.  Yahveh  is 
a  man  of  war.  He  allows  and  even  insists  on  the  total  destruc- 
tion of  the  Canaanities.  Agag  is  put  to  death  before  him.  His 
favoured  David  smites  every  male  in  Edom,  and  puts  the  men 
of  Rabbah  under  saws  and  harrows  of  iron.^  His  code  recog- 
nizes the  blood  feud,  vengeance  for  unintentional  homicide,  and 
vicarious  responsibility.  But  if  barbaric,  the  code  has,  as  we 
have  seen  in  detail,  many  of  the  best  features  of  early  morality. 
A  strong  sense  of  social  solidarity  is  shown  in  the  care  taken  for 
the  cause  of  the  poor,  the  fatherless  and  the  widow,  in  the  pro- 
hibition of  usury,  in  the  protection  of  the  Hebrew  slave  and 
concubine,  in  the  cities  of  refuge  to  shelter  from  the  fury  of  the 
avenger  of  blood.     The  ethics  of  early  Yahvism,  in  fact,  exhibit 

^  See  Montefiore,  p.  42. 

2  Exodds  xix.  21.     Cf.  Montefiore,  p.  39.  ^  ^mos  i.  2. 

*  See  the  dialogue  between  God  and  Mcses,  Numbers  xiv.  11-25.  God 
having  declared  that  He  will  STTiite  the  people,  Moses  replies,  "  Then  the 
Egyptians  shall  hear  it  "  .  .  .  and  "  the  nations  which  have  heard  the  fame 
of  Thee  will  speak,  saying,  Because  the  Lord  was  not  able  to  bring  this 
people  into  the  land  which  he  sware  unto  them,  therefore  he  hath  slain 
them  in  the  wilderness." 

*  2  Samuel  xii.  31.  On  Yahvism  as  exemplified  in  the  story  of  David, 
see  Kuenen,  Religion  of  Israel,  vol.  i.  p.  326  f£. 


492  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTIOl^ 

group-morality  in  its  typical  form  with  its  best  as  well  as  some 
of  its  worst  features  standing  out  in  strong  relief. 

2.  Such  was  the  religion  which  was  transformed  by  the  labours 
of  the  prophets  from  the  eighth  century  onwards  into  a  spiritual 
worship  of  one  God,  the  creator  and  ruler  of  all  things,  the  God 
of  social  Justice,  of  mercy,  and  finally  of  love.  It  is  not  necessary 
for  our  purpose  to  follow  the  steps  by  which  the  new  religious 
ideal  was  slowly  and  painfully  acquired,  with  many  backshdings 
and  reversions  to  lower  types  of  thought.  It  will  be  sufficient 
to  point  out  the  leading  ideas  which  indicate  the  spirituahty  of 
the  new  religion.  The  first  of  these,  both  in  point  of  time  and 
perhaps  in  ethical  significance,  was  the  protest  against  the  behef 
that  sacrifice  could  atone  for  sin.  This  is  the  ever-recurring 
theme  of  the  older  prophets.  "  I  hate,  I  despise  your  feasts, 
and  I  will  take  no  delight  in  your  solemn  assembhes.  Yea, 
though  ye  offer  Me  your  burnt  offerings  and  meal  offerings,  I 
will  not  accept  them  :  neither  will  I  regard  the  peace  offerings 
of  your  fat  beasts.  .  .  ,  But  let  judgment  roll  down  as  waters, 
and  righteousness  as  a  mighty  stream."  ^  So  writes  the  first  of 
the  prophetic  line.  Isaiah  takes  up  the  word  :  "  To  what  pur- 
pose is  the  multitude  of  your  sacrifices  unto  Me  ?  saith  the  Lord  : 
I  am  full  of  the  burnt  offerings  of  rams,  and  the  fat  of  fed  beasts  ; 
and  I  delight  not  in  the  blood  of  bullocks,  or  of  lambs,  or  of  he- 
goats."  2  "  And  when  ye  spread  forth  your  hands,  I  will  hide 
Mine  eyes  from  you  :  yea,  when  ye  make  many  prayers,  I  will 
not  hear  :  your  hands  are  full  of  blood.  Wash  you,  make  you 
clean ;  put  away  the  evil  of  your  doings  from  before  Mine  eyes ; 
cease  to  do  evil  :  learn  to  do  well :  seek  judgment,  reheve  the 
oppressed,  judge  the  fatherless,  plead  for  the  widow."  ^  This 
is  the  first  lesson  of  spiritual  religion  which  finally  culminates 
in  the  doctrine  that  God  is  a  Spirit,  and  they  who  worship  him 
must  worship  him  in  spirit  and  in  truth.  In  the  lowest  stage 
of  ethical  thought  men  washed  away  their  sins  with  magic  purges 
or  swore  them  off  with  incantation  formulas.  In  the  next  stage 
they  bargained  with  the  gods  and  offered  a  bull  or  ram,  or  in 
extremity  their  own  children  to  make  up  for  their  iniquity.  The 
ethical  stage  proper  begins  when  these  childish  things  are  put 
aside,  and  men  conceive  God  as  caring  neither  for  gifts  nor  for 
ceremonial  adulation,  but  for  repentance  and  change  of  heart. 

A  spiritual  religion  must  be  a  religion  of  the  inner  man.  The 
ceremonies  lose  their  magical  effect.     The  true  religious  mystery 

^  Amos  V.  21.  *  Isaiah  i.  11. 

*  Loc.  cit.,  15-17.     Cf.  Jer.  vii.  5,  etc. 


MONOTHEISM  493 

is  found  in  what  passes  within  man's  mind.  "  Circumcise  there- 
fore the  foreskin  of  your  heart,"  say  the  prophets  and  the 
prophetic  code.^  Yet  in  the  older  prophets  it  is  rather  social 
righteousness  and  social  salvation  than  the  justification  of  the 
individual  that  occupy  the  first  place.  Wliile  nearly  all  later 
rehgions  have  appealed  in  the  first  instance  to  the  individual 
to  come  to  God  and  save  his  soul,  leaving  social  righteousness 
to  a  secondary  place,  the  prophets,  innocent  as  yet  of  any  doc- 
trine of  resurrection,  believing  in  temporal  rewards  and  con- 
cerned above  all  for  the  fate  of  Israel,  put  matters  in  a  different 
order.  Their  righteousness  is  emphatically  a  social  righteous- 
ness. We  can  trace  in  it  the  protest  of  a  just  and  wise  conser- 
vatism against  the  so-called  progress  of  a  material  civilization 
\vith  its  tendency  to  break  down  the  position  of  the  poorer  free 
men  and  enslave  them  to  the  masters  of  wealth.  The  prophets' 
teaching  was  hardly  yet  humanitarian.  It  was  rather  an  in- 
tensified form  of  group-morality.  But  it  was  for  justice  and 
equahty,  forbearance  and  consideration,  as  between  all  members 
of  the  group  constituted  as  such  by  God's  choice.  It  is  God's 
people  who  are  being  oppressed.  "  What  mean  ye  that  ye 
csush  My  people  and  grind  the  face  of  the  poor  ?  saith  the  Lord, 
the  Lord  of  Hosts."  ^  The  tyranny  of  the  monopolist  is  already 
felt  and  denounced  with  a  power  that  has  never  been  surpassed. 
"  Woe  unto  them  that  join  house  to  house,  that  lay  field  to  field, 
till  there  be  no  room,  and  ye  be  made  to  dwell  alone  in  the  midst 
of  the  land."^  "The  Lord  will  enter  into  judgment  with  the 
elders  of  His  people  and  the  princes  thereof  :  it  is  ye  that  have 
eaten  up  the  vineyard  :  the  spoil  of  the  poor  is  in  your  houses."* 
All  the  vices  of  material  civihzation,  wine-bibbing  and  luxury, 
feminine  vanity  and  ostentation,  are  denounced  in  the  same 
strain,^  and  the  women  are  threatened  with  branding  instead  of 
beauty,  and  instead  of  a  stomacher  a  girding  of  sackcloth. 

These  were  not  empty  denunciations.  The  emancipation  of 
slaves  in  the  sabbatical  year  ^  with  provision  to  enable  them 
to  start  as  free  men,  the  prohibition  of  usury  in  dealing  with 
fellow  Hebrews,  the  wiping  out  of  debts  in  the  sabbatical  year, 
the  abolition  of  vicarious  punishment,  the  limitation  of  blood 
revenge,  the  provision  for  the  fatherless  and  widows,  the  in- 
culcation of  humanity  to  slaves  male  and  female,  are  embodied 

1  Deut.  X.  16.  -  Isaiah  iii.  15.  *  Isaiah  v.  8. 

*  Isaiah  iii.  14.  ^  ib.  16-26;  v.  8-12. 

®  I  have  referred  above  (Part  I.  chap,  vii.)  to  Jeremiah's  account  of  the 
attempts  to  enforce  this  rule  (Jeremiah  xxxiv.  8  ff.).  The  writer  of  Isaiah 
Iviii.  6  insists  on  letting  the  oppressed  go  free,  presumably  meaning  the 
emancipation  of  slaves. 


494  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

in  the  prophetic  code  and  represent  perhaps  the  earliest  conscious 
effort  towards  systematic  social  reform,  marred  only  by  the 
exclusive  rehgious  spirit,  which  still  (notwithstanding  the  con- 
cern for  the  stranger  that  is  within  the  gates)  draws  a  deep  line 
between  Jew  and  Gentile,  emphasizes  the  necessity  of  exter- 
minating the  heathen,  and  proscribes  the  heretic.  The  heads 
of  the  code  are  summed  up  in  the  chapter  in  wliich  Ezekiel 
repudiates  the  doctrine  of  vicarious  responsibility. 

"  But  if  a  man  be  just,  and  do  that  which  is  lawful  and  right, 
and  hath  not  eaten  upon  the  mountains,  neither  hath  lifted  up 
his  eyes  to  the  idols  of  the  house  of  Israel,  neither  hath  defiled 
his  neighbour's  wife,  neither  hath  come  near  to  a  woman  in  her 
separation ;  and  hath  not  wronged  any,  but  hath  restored  to  the 
debtor  his  pledge,  hath  spoiled  none  by  violence,  hath  given  his 
bread  to  the  hungry,  and  hath  covered  the  naked  with  a  garment ; 
he  that  hath  not  given  forth  upon  usury,  neither  hath  taken 
any  increase,  that  hath  withdrawn  his  hand  from  iniquity,  hath 
executed  true  judgment  between  man  and  man,  hath  walked  in 
My  statutes,  and  hath  kept  My  judgments,  to  deal  truly ;  he  is 
just,  he  shall  surely  live,  saith  the  Lord  God."  ^ 

For  a  reformed  and  renovated  Israel  the  prophets  at  first 
foresaw  a  reward  of  inner  peace  and  prosperity.  But  as  troubles 
thickened  around  them  they  began  to  feel  that  suffering  might 
have  a  necessity  and  a  value  of  its  own.  God's  servant  is  "  de- 
spised and  rejected  of  men,  a  man  of  sorrows  and  acquainted 
with  grief  :  and  as  one  from  whom  men  hide  their  face  he  was 
despised,  and  we  esteemed  him  not."  It  is  the  destiny  of  the 
teacher  to  bear  the  burden  of  the  world's  folly  and  sin  and  to 
bear  it  with  nothing  but  contempt  for  his  reward.  "  Surely  he 
hath  borne  our  griefs,  and  carried  our  sorrows  :  yet  we  did  esteem 
him  stricken,  smitten  of  God,  and  afflicted.  But  he  was  wounded 
for  our  transgressions,  he  was  bruised  for  our  iniquities  :  the 
chastisement  of  our  peace  was  upon  him ;  and  with  his  stripes 
we  are  healed."  ^  His  methods  are  those  of  gentleness  and 
peace.  "  He  shall  not  cry,  nor  lift  up,  nor  cause  his  voice  to  be 
heard  in  the  street.  A  bruised  reed  shall  he  not  break,  and  the 
smoking  flax  shall  he  not  quench  :  he  shall  bring  forth  judgment 
in  truth."  ^  He  bears  his  sufferings  in  silence  and  humiHty. 
"  He  was  oppressed,  yet  he  humbled  himself  and  opened  not 
his  mouth  ;  as  a  lamb  that  is  led  to  the  slaughter,  and  as  a 
sheep  that  before  her  shearers  is  dumb ;  yea,  he  opened  not 
his  mouth,"*    Thus  by  a  very  different  road  and  with  much 

1  Ezekiel  xviii.  5-9.  *  Isaiah  liii.  4,  6. 

'^  Isaiah  xlii.  2,  3.  *  Isaiah  liii.  7. 


MONOTHEISM 

difference  of  implied  meaning,  we  are  reaching  the  BuciQfiJkj.. 
doctrine  of  renunciation  and  humility — those  cardinal  points  of 
spiritualized  religion. 

Further,  in  proportion  as  Yahveh  became  the  God  of  the 
whole  earth  the  old  group-morahty  was  compelled  to  yield  in  a 
measure  to  Universahsm.  The  warrior's  song  is  changed  to  a 
prophecy  of  peace.  "  And  He  shall  judge  between  the  nations, 
and  shall  reprove  many  peoples  :  and  they  shall  beat  their  swords 
into  ploAvshares,  and  their  spears  into  pruninghooks  :  nation 
shall  not  lift  up  sword  against  nation,  neither  shall  they  learn 
war  any  more."  ^  In  its  cruder  form  the  idea  was  that  other 
nations  should  take  their  teacliing  from  Jerusalem. ^  Vengeance, 
moreover,  is  still  freely  denounced  on  public  enemies.  "  The 
Assyrian  .  .  .  shall  flee  from  the  sword  and  his  young  men  shall 
become  tributary."  ^  The  exilic  writers  declare  that  the  children 
of  Babylon  shall  be  dashed  against  the  stones.*  But  though 
national  redemption  and  glory  are  still  prominent  we  reach  a 
higher  phase  in  the  conception  of  a  redeemed  Israel  which  is  to 
evangehze  the  world.^  Unfortunately,  the  experiences  of  the 
Exile  and  return  were  not  favourable  to  the  further  development 
of  thought  along  these  lines,  and  there  is  a  certain  reaction 
towards  exclusive  particularism  in  the  Priestly  Code.^  Judaism 
feared  to  lose  itself  in  the  great  world  from  which  it  was  separated 
by  no  pohtical  barrier,  and  it  sought  safety  in  drawing  its  skirts 
closely  round  it,  and  even  avoiding  all  contact  with  the  unclean. 
One  of  the  noblest  traits  of  Monotheism  was  thus  corrupted. 
Universahsm  survived  only  in  kindness  to  the  stranger  and  in 
the  effort  to  proselytize,  and  even  this  was  a  matter  of  con- 
troversy.' Nor  was  the  question  fuially  determined  wdthin  the 
limits  of  Judaism  itself,  nor  until  the  age  of  Paul. 

Yet  the  unity  and  omnipresence  and  goodness  of  God  are  by 
this  time  estabhshed.  The  early  prophets  do  not  hesitate  to 
attribute  vengeance  and  even  deceit  to  Yahveh.  "  Shall  evil 
befall  a  city,  and  the  Lord  hath  not  done  it  ?  "  Amos  asks.^  In 
the  Deutero -Isaiah  God  declares  that  it  is  He  who  makes  peace 
and  creates  evil.^     This  belongs,  no  doubt,  to  the  conception  of 

^  Isaiah  ii.  4.  Dr.  Carpenter  informs  me  that  the  passage  is  now  gener- 
ally regarded  as  post-exilic. 

2  Zech.  viii.  20-23.  *  Isaiah  xxxi.  8. 

*  Isaiah  xiii.  16.     Cf.  Psalm  cxxxvii.  9. 

^  Montefiore,  pp.  273-277.     Yet  Cyrus  is  also  God's  instriunent. 

«  ih.,  p.  340. 

'  That  is  to  say,  so  far  as  the  official  religion  is  concerned.  The  univer- 
salist  tendency  is  maintained  in  some  of  the  Psalms,  in  Jonah,  and  in  the 
Vrisdom  literature. 

"  Amos  iii.   6.  •  Isaiah  xlv.  7. 


496  MORALS   IN  EVOLUTION 

divine  punishment  for  transgression.  It  is  going  a  step  further 
however,  when  Ezekiel  maintains  that  in  punishment  for  the 
idolatry  of  the  people  God  gave  them  statutes  which  were  not 
good  and  judgments  wherein  they  should  not  live.  At  a  later 
stage,  on  the  contrary,  we  find  the  authorship  of  evil  imputed 
to  Satan.  In  the  Chronicles  it  is  he,  not  Yahveh,  who  incites 
David  to  the  numbering  of  the  people.  If  in  this  we  trace  the 
influence  of  Zoroastrian  ideas  we  may  recognize  also  an  attempt 
to  keep  pure  the  notion  of  God's  goodness  and  to  separate  him 
from  all  responsibihty  for  sin  and  suffering.  God's  unity  and 
omnipresent  power  are  no  less  distinct  than  his  righteousness. 
Jeremiah  already  puts  the  question,  "  Am  I  a  God  at  hand  and 
not  a  God  afar  off  ?  " — a  question  to  which  more  primitive 
worshippers  would  have  returned  a  very  doubtful  answer.  "  Do 
I  not  fill  heaven  and  earth  ?  "  ^  After  the  exile,  though  God 
still  in  some  sense,  symbolical  or  other,  dwells  in  Sion  and  is 
certainly  in  a  peculiar  sense  the  God  of  Israel,  yet  there  is  no 
more  talk  of  separation  from  him,  whether  by  exile  or  by  death. 
"  If  I  climb  up  into  heaven,  Thou  art  there ;  if  I  go  down  into 
bell.  Thou  art  there  also."  God  was  the  creator  and  father  of 
all,  though  all  men  were  not  yet  brothers. 

Such  was  the  adolescence  of  Monotheism.  We  have  now  to 
deal  with  its  full  development  and  endeavour  to  measure  its 
main  contributions  to  ethical  thought — that  is  to  say,  to  the 
guidance  of  life. 

3.  The  central  idea  of  Ethical  Monotheism  admits  of  a  short 
and  simple  statement.  There  is  one  God  only,  the  Maker  of 
heaven  and  earth.  He  is  a  Personal  God,  and  in  his  personality 
there  is  a  touch  of  kinship  with  our  human  nature.  But  he 
does  not,  like  the  gods  of  polytheism,  differ  from  us  merely  in 
being  greater,  wiser,  and  more  powerful.  He  is  not — when  the 
adolescence  of  monotheism  is  past — a  mere  magnified  man. 
For  man  is  finite  and  he  is  infinite,  eternal,  without  beginning 
or  end  of  days,  the  source  and  sustaining  cause  of  all  that  is. 
Again,  man  is  of  composite  nature  and  therefore  corrupt.  God 
is  pure  Spirit,  and  the  spiritual  is  now  the  comprehensive  ex- 
pression for  the  highest  and  best  that  is  known  to  man.  It  is 
defined  negatively  by  opposition  to  the  earthly,  positively  by 
the  exaltation  of  morality  into  perfect  purity  of  heart.     God  is  a 

1  Jeremiah  xxiii.  23-24.  Yet,  in  Ezekiel's  time,  people  remaining  in 
Canaan  still  taunt  the  exiles  with  being  "  far  from  Yahveh,"  and  boast 
"  unto  us  is  Yahveh's  land  given  "  (Montefiore,  p.  207,  citing  Ezekiel 
xi.  15). 


MONOTHEISM  497 

Spirit,  and  his  communion  with  man  is  spiritual.  They  that 
worship  him  must  worsliip  him  in  spirit,  and  forms  and  cere- 
monies are  naught  without  the  inward  and  spiritual  grace  given 
unto  us  in  them.  As  the  Eternal  Spirit  God  is  the  founder 
and  sustainer  of  the  Ethical  order,  he  punishes  the  wicked  and 
rewards  the  good,  and  yet — again  except  in  the  crassest  appre- 
hension— goodness  cannot  be  assumed  for  the  sake  of  the  re^vard, 
for  so  it  would  not,  spiritually  considered,  be  goodness.  What 
must  win  God  is  the  genuine  turning  of  the  heart  to  him,  a  faith 
in  him,  which  is  also  in  the  highest  monotheism  a  love  for  him 
from  whom  flows  love  to  man,  and  in  this  love  is  the  beginning 
and  the  end  of  human  virtue.  Finally,  though  man's  corruption 
separates  him  by  a  great  gulf  from  the  infinite  perfection  of 
God,  yet  with  a  mercy  that  equals  his  justice  God  has  him- 
self appointed  means  whereby  the  gulf  may  be  spanned  and 
forgiveness  of  sins  obtained. 

This  comparatively  simple  conception  in  which  the  ethical 
and  the  rehgious  fuse,  which  provides  at  once  for  the  govern- 
ment of  the  universe  and  the  entire  direction  of  human  life, 
expresses  what  rehgion  has  in  essence  meant  to  great  numbers 
of  devout  souls.  But  the  conception  could  not  maintain  itself 
in  so  simple  a  form.  At  every  point  it  bristles  with  theoretical 
difiiculties,  to  meet  which  great  structures  of  dogma  have  been 
erected,  modified,  and  replaced  by  others,  as  the  needs  of  con- 
troversy have  determined.  Nor  was  the  shape  taken  by  dogma 
determined  by  the  pure  monotheistic  idea  alone,  but  in  large 
measure  by  the  particular  contents  of  the  historical  documents 
in  which  the  monotheistic  system  was  revealed.  We  have  to 
note  the  fundamental  points  in  which  the  building  up  of  dogma 
affected  ethics. 

First,  as  to  the  nature  of  God  and  his  relation  to  the  world, 
monotheism  in  all  its  forms  appears  to  be  agreed  that  he  is  the 
uncreated,  unconditioned  creator  and  sustainer  of  all  things. 

"He  is  God  alone  ! 
God  the  Eternal  ! 

He  begets  not  and  is  not  begotten  ! 
Nor  is  there  like  unto  Him  any  one  !  "  ^ 

But  for  one  clause  this  Mohammedan  hymn  of  unity  might  be 
sung  with  equal  fervour  by  the  Christian.  So,  again,  another 
passage — 

"  God,  there  is  no  God  but  He,  the  living,  the  self-subsistent. 
Slumber  takes  Him  not,  nor  sleep.     He  is  what  is  in  the  heavens 

*  The  Chapter  of  Unity.     The  Koran,  vol.  ii.  ch&p.  cxii.  (Palmer's  Tr.). 


498  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

and  what  is  in  the  earth.  Who  is  it  that  intercedes  with  Him, 
saves  by  His  permission  ?  He  knows  what  is  before  them  and 
what  behind  them,  and  they  comprehend  not  aught  of  His  know- 
ledge but  of  what  He  pleases.  His  throne  extends  over  the 
heavens  and  the  earth,  and  it  tires  Him  not  to  guard  them  both, 
for  He  is  high  and  grand.'*  ^ 

God  is  the  creator  and  sustainer  of  tilings.  But  according  as 
f.'mphasis  is  laid  on  the  one  or  the  other  of  these  descriptions, 
divergent  views  of  liis  relation  to  the  world  come  into  being. 
As  creator  he  makes  the  world  out  of  nothing,  and  he  makes 
man  in  his  ima^e.  He  endows  his  creatures  \nth  existence  and 
they  become  in  a  manner  separate  from  him.  If  pressed  hard 
this  conception  militates  against  God's  infinitude.  Man  and  the 
world  are  separate  from  liim,  and  in  so  far  as  they  have  inde- 
pendent existences  must  be  held  to  hmit  him.  He  is  no  longer 
all  that  is.  L^pon  tliis  line  of  thought  he  becomes  a  Ruler,  all- 
powerful,  no  doubt,  but  still  an  outside  power  acting  upon  tliis 
earthly  existence.  On  the  other  hand,  as  Sustainer  of  all  that 
is  his  relation  to  the  world  becomes  more  intimate.  It  is  only 
in  him  that  things  have  existence.  His  will  alone  is  the  cause 
of  all  that  happens.  He  alone  has  independent  existence  and 
the  things  of  the  world  exist  only  by  participation  in  him.- 
This  line  of  thought,  it  is  clear,  is  bringing  us  close  to  Pantheism,^ 
and  though  tliinkers  as  orthodox  as  Thomas  Aquinas  have  made 
no  small  advances  in  that  direction,  the  centre  of  gravity  of 
monotheistic  dogma  lies  nearer  to  the  creationist  conception. 
God  made  the  world,  but  he  is  not  the  world  :  He  made 
man,  but  is  not  man.  In  so  far  his  Being  is  hmited.  He  is 
transcendent,  not  immanent.^ 

^  Koran,  chap.  ii.  (Palmer's  Tr.,  vol.  i.  p.  40).  These  passages  express 
God's  power  rather  than  his  love  and  other  moral  qualities.  But  these 
appear  in  their  place.  Palmer  finds  ninety-nine  epithets  of  God  in  the 
Koran,  including  The  Merciful,  Euler,  Holy,  Peace,  Faithful,  Protector, 
^Mighty,  Creator,  Forgiver,  Provider,  Knowing,  Honourer,  Destroyer, 
Hearer,  Seer,  Judge,  Justice,  Subtle,  Aware,  Forgiving,  Exalted,  Generous, 
Answerer  of  Prayer,  Comprehensive,  Wise,  Loving,  Glorious,  Truth,  Sub- 
sistmg,  Eternal,  the  First,  the  Last,  Righteousness,  the  Relenting,  Kind, 
Lord  of  Majesty  and  Liberality,  Equitable,  Patient. 

*  "  Participatione  ejus,  qui  solum  per  se  ipsum  est."  Thomas,  quoted 
in  Harnack,  History  of  Dogma,  E.  T.,  vol.  vi.  p.  lS-4. 

^  "  Theological  theories  have  varied  all  the  way  from  deism  to  a  view 
little  removed  from  pantheism  "  (Adams  Brown,  Christian  Theology  in 
Outline,  p.  215). 

*  "Against  Pantheism  Clxristianity  affirms  the  distinction  "  between  God 
and  the  world  (Adams  Brown,  op.  cit.,  p.  198).  Yet  God  seems  to  be  the 
Absolute  and  the  Ultimate  Reality  (op.  cit.,  p.  122),  and  it  is  most  natural 
to  think  of  creation  in  terms  of  the  relation  between  phenomena  and  their 
spiritual  ground  (op.  cit.,  p.  214).     One  cannot  but  ask  (a)  Are  phenomena 


MONOTHEISM  499 

4.  So  far  the  interest  is  speculative  rather  than  cthicaL 
Whichever  view  is  taken,  the  unconditional  omnipotence  of 
God  at  the  outset  is  assumed.  But  v.ith  this  assumption  the 
problem  of  evil  at  once  becomes  urgent,  and  we  touch  the  very- 
heart  of  all  cthico-rehgious  theory.  The  Platonic  doctrine  that 
God  is  good,  and  as  good  can  be  the  author  of  no  evil,  may  be 
regarded  as  the  comer-stone  of  all  ethical  religion.  How  was 
this  to  be  fitted  in  with  the  dogma  of  omnipotence  which  mono- 
theism had  accepted  ?  Broadly  speaking,  there  were  two  pos- 
si])le  methods.  The  first  was  to  deny  the  reality  of  evil,  the 
second  was  to  insist  on  the  absolute  right  of  the  Creator  to  do 
what  He  would  with  His  own.  Both  explanations  have  held  an 
important  place  in  dogma.  According  to  Augustine,  evil  has  no 
positive  and  substantial  existence.  It  is  only  "a  privation  of 
good,"^  or,  by  a  swift  change  of  thought,  it  is  the  dark  colour 
that  throws  up  the  fight.  "  For  as  a  picture  with  dark  colour, 
set  in  its  proper  place,  is  fair,  so  is  the  universe  of  things,  if  one 
can  behold  it,  even  with  its  sinners,  though  they,  considered  by 
themselves,  are  stained  by  their  own  ugfiness."  ^  It  is  well  to 
remark  that  these  two  \'iews  are  in  essence  quite  opposed.  In 
the  one,  evil  has  no  positive  character.  It  is  a  void,  where  good 
might  be,  but  is  not.  In  the  other,  there  are  things  or  persons 
that  are  evil  in  themselves — evil  is  so  far  positive ;  but  their 
badness  when  viewed  in  connection  with  the  whole  scheme  of 
things  is  held  to  have  a  good  effect  —  a  function  to  perform 
whereby  the  picture  as  a  whole  is  made  more  fair. 

The  optimistic  doctrine  that  the  evil  of  the  world  is  merely 
the  dark  colour  which  serves  to  show  up  the  bright  would  be 
tenable  upon  two  hypotheses.  If  evil  and  good  were  so  dis- 
tributed that  physical  suffering,  external  calamities  and  moral 
wTong-doing  played  an  essential  part  in  the  growth  of  each 
personafity,  and  could  be  shown  to  tend  ultimately  to  its  greater 
perfection,  the  existence  of  evil  would  be  reconcilable  with  a 
divine  justice  which  should  take  every  personality  into  account. 
EquaUy,  if  personafity  were  left  wholly  out  of  account,  it  might 
be  theoreticaUy  maintainable  that  the  unequal  distribution  of 
evil  in  the  world  was  a  matter  of  no  moment,  provided  that  the 
whole  scheme  of  things  be  aUowed  to  be  sound  at  the  core. 
The  second  alternative  was  not  possible  for  any  system  which 

real?  If  so,  we  have  a  dualism ;  (6)  Are  they  an  imperfect  expression  of  the 
underlying  Real  which  is  God  ?     If  so,  have  we  not  Pantheism  ? 

1  De  Civitate  Dei,  Book  XI.  chap.  xxii.  :  "Cum  omnino  natura  nulla  sit 
malum,  nomenque  hoc  non  sit  nisi  privationis  boni." 

*  ib.,  chap,  xxiii. 


500  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

took  account  of  personality  at  all.  In  particular,  so  far  as  re- 
gards moral  evil,  it  was  not  open  to  Christian  apologists,  v/ho, 
on  the  one  hand,  maintained  the  infinite  value  of  the  individual 
soul,  and,  on  the  other,  visited  the  reprobate  with  the  prospect 
of  eternal  punishment.  Evil  which  involves  eternal  suffering 
as  its  punishment  cannot  be  dismissed  as  sometliing  merely 
negative,  nor  yet  accepted  as  a  mere  incident  in  the  working 
out  of  a  higher  order — that  is  to  say,  it  cannot  be  so  accepted 
by  those  who  maintain  the  inherent  worth  of  personalitj^ 
Hence  theologians  are  driven  back  on  a  second  line  of  defence. 
They  admit  the  evil  will  to  exist,  but  they  seek  to  exonerate  the 
Deity  for  responsibility  for  its  existence.  The  simplest  method 
of  such  exoneration  is  that  of  Pelagius,  which  makes  the  salva- 
tion of  man  depend  upon  his  own  choice,  that  choice  not  being 
conceived  as  predetermined  by  God.  Free  will,  thus  under- 
stood, however,  is  clearly  a  limitation  of  the  divine  omnipotence, 
and  theology.  Christian  and  Mohammedan  ahke,  has  often  been 
driven  to  prefer  the  opposite  alternative  of  limiting  the  responsi- 
bility of  man  rather  than  the  knowledge  and  authority  of  God. 
Yet  this  alternative  raises  many  problems,  some  of  them  of 
grave  ethical  import.  In  the  first  place,  how  does  the  evil  will 
come  into  existence  ?  Augustine  is  clear  that  a  good  God  can- 
not create  a  bad  nature .^  The  nature  of  the  wicked  angels, 
therefore  was  intrinsically  good,^  and  "  we  must  beheve  the 
providence  of  the  Creator  rather  than  be  so  rash  as  to  condemn 
any  part  of  the  world's  fabric  of  any  imperfection,"  ^  The  nature 
of  the  wicked  angels  being  good,  their  fall  arose  from  their  evil 
will.  What  then,  we  naturally  ask,  was  the  cause  of  this  evil 
will,  seeing  that  evil  was  not  in  their  own  nature  ?  The  answer 
is  that  the  evil  will  has  no  cause. 

"  Seek  the  cause  of  this  evil  will  and  you  shall  find  just  none, 
for  what  can  cause  the  will's  evil,  the  will  being  sole  cause  of  all 
evil — '  Cum  ipsa  (voluntas)  faciat  opus  malum  ' — The  evil  will, 
therefore,  causes  evil  works,  but  nothing  causes  the  evil  will."  * 

But  at  this  point  we  are  at  once  brought  to  the  free  will 
dilemma.  Either  the  bad  will  must  have  an  origin  somewhere 
in  that  structure  of  things  which  God  has  created,  or  it  must  be 

^  De  Civitate  Dei,  Book  XI.  chap,  xxii.,  xxiii. ;  Book  XII.  chap.  i. 

^  Op.  cit.,  xii.  chaps,  i.  and  iii.      "  Inquantum  naturae  sunt,  bonae  sunt." 

^  ib..  Book  XII.  chap.  iv.  The  free  rendering  of  the  old  trans- 
lator J.  H.  The  Latin  is  :  "  rectissime  credenda  prsecipitur  providentia 
Conditoris  ne  tanti  artificis  opus  in  aliquo  reprehendere  vanitate  humanse 
temeritatis  audeamus." 

*  ib..  Book  XII.  chap,  vi.,  J.  H.'s  Tr.  In  the  Latin  the  last  words  are  ; 
"  malae  autem  voluntatis  efficiens  est  nihil." 


MONOTHEISM  601 

a  force  arising  fer  impossibile  out  of  nothing,  which  the  Creator 
does  not  control.  It  may  be  said  that  he  does  not  control  it, 
but  only  permits  it.  This  does  not  offer  escape  from  the  dilemma, 
either  that  it  is  a  force  arising  somehow  independently  of  him, 
or  that  his  permission  is  a  negative  condition  whereby  alone  this 
force  can  have  any  effect.  No  theory  of  responsibility  can,  from 
the  ethical  point  of  view,  draw  any  serious  distinction  between 
a  negative  and  a  positive  condition,  and  to  permit  evil,  in  the 
plenitude  of  power  that  might  prevent  it,  is  all  one  with  the 
doing  of  evil.  In  point  of  fact,  Augustine's  own  argument,  when 
looked  into,  tends  to  restore  the  omnipotence  of  God  along  with 
his  responsibihty ;  for  although  he  denies  that  the  evil  wiU  has 
an  origin,  he  is  strenuous  in  maintaining  that  the  good  wiU  is 
created,  and  here  he  refuses  to  make  any  distinction  between 
the  will  and  the  being  to  whom  the  will  belongs,  for  he  argues, ^ 
"  Seeing  that  the  angels  themselves  were  created,  how  can  their 
wills  but  be  so  also  ?  "  It  might  be  retorted  that  if  this  argument 
appHes  to  the  good  angels,  it  applies  also  to  the  bad  ones.  But, 
further,  Augustine  himself  is  in  the  end  led  to  the  admission 
that  the  difference  between  the  bad  and  the  good  will  rests  upon 
the  choice  of  good,  and  the  choice  of  good  upon  the  grace  of  God. 
Those  angels  "  that  were  created  good  and  yet  became  evil  by 
their  proper  will  either  received  less  grace  from  the  divine  love 
than  they  that  persisted  therein,  or  if  they  had  equal  good  at 
their  creation,  the  one  fell  by  the  evil  wills,  and  the  other,  having 
further  help,  attained  that  bliss  from  which  they  were  sure  never 
to  fall."  ^  At  this  point,  then,  the  whole  argument  becomes 
consistent,  but  at  the  cost  of  deliberately  accepting  one  horn  of 
the  dilemma.  The  good  will  is  good  because  he  who  exerpises 
it  has  a  greater  measure  of  grace ;  the  bad  will  is  bad  because 
grace  does  not  sufficiently  abound.  Tliis  is  in  essence  to  abandon 
the  conception  of  the  bad  will  arising  uncaused,  as  a  force  external 
to  the  providence  of  God,  and  to  maintain  the  superintendence 
of  God  throughout ;  but  it  is  also,  by  a  logical  necessity,  to 
constitute  God  the  ultimate  author  of  the  moral  depravity  of  the 
Avicked  angels,  and,  on  the  same  argument,  of  wicked  man.^     In 

^  Z)eCu;ito<eDei,  Book  XII.  chap.  ix.       ^  i6..  Book.  XII.  ch.  ix.  J.  H.'s  Tr. 

'  Augustine  attempts  to  escape  from  the  positive  character  of  the  evil 
will  by  treating  it  as  a  deficiency  in  goodness  (xii.  7).  The  want  of 
sufficiently  good  will  does  not  touch  the  question  of  responsibility.  If  one 
person's  will  is  adequate  to  maintain  the  goodness  of  his  nature  while 
another  person's  will  fails  in  that  respect,  the  difference  must  be  due  to  one 
of  two  causes.  The  want  of  will  in  the  man  who  becomes  bad  is  either 
something  that  arises  independently  without  the  appointment  of  God,  or  it 
is  somethmg  which  God  foresees  and  appoints,  and  we  are  back  in  precisely 
the  old  dilemma. 


502  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

tact,  the  determination  to  hold  by  the  omnipotence  of  God  at  all 
costs  led  inevitably  to  the  doctrine  of  predestination,  for  if  God 
knows  all  things  from  the  first,  how  can  he  but  know  the  fate  of 
those  whom  he  is  about  to  create  or  whom  he  may  create  at  any 
future  time,  and  if  he  creates  them,  knowing  their  fate,  what 
theory  of  responsibility  can  be  invented  which  shall  take  the 
burden  of  their  fate  off  him  ?  True,  their  reprobation  may  still 
be  regarded  as  the  consequence  of  their  own  wickedness.  But 
wickedness  also  is  foreknown  by  God,  and  though  that  wickedness 
issues  from  the  will  of  each  individual,  yet  precisely  the  same 
argument  applies  to  the  will  itself ;  that  also  is  foreknown  and 
f ©reappointed.  Thus,  though  by  various  dialectical  compro- 
mises theologians  may  still  endeavour  to  attribute  foreknowledge 
of  sin  without  responsibility  for  sin,  the  far  more  logical  con- 
sequence is  that  drawn  by  Calvin  when  he  declares  that  those 
"  whom  God  passes  by  He  reprobates,  and  from  no  other  cause 
than  His  determination  to  exclude  them."  ^  And  again,  "  I  in- 
quire again,  how  it  came  to  pass  that  the  fall  of  Adam,  inde- 
pendent of  any  remedy,  should  involve  so  many  nations  with 
their  infant  children  in  eternal  death,  but  because  such  was  the 
will  of  God.  .  .  .  It  is  an  awful  decree,  I  confess ;  but  no  one 
can  deny  that  God  foreknew  the  future  final  fate  of  man  before 
He  created  liim,  and  that  He  did  foreknow  it  because  it  was 
appointed  by  His  own  decree."^  As  to  the  distinction  between 
Avill  and  permission  Calvin  admits  that  it  is  nugatory.  "  What 
reason  shall  we  assign  for  His  permitting  it,  but  because  it  is 
His  will  ?  "  Thus,  the  strict  insistence  upon  the  omnipotence 
of  God  led  theologians,  in  proportion  to  their  logical  courage, 
to  a  doctrine  wliich  did  not,  indeed,  abohsh  the  human  Avill,  be- 
cause the  will  was  the  instrument  through  which  God  worked, 
but  which  did  place  upon  God  the  final  responsibility  for  all 
that  exists  in  this  world  and  all  that  man  does  therein,  and  all 
that  in  consequence  man  shall  enjoy  or  suffer  hereafter.  And 
this,  in  accordance  with  vieAvs  held  to  be  derived  from  the 
original  revelation — though  utterly  repugnant  to  the  true  spirit 
of  Christianity — ^involved,  among  other  things,  the  eternal 
suffering  in  unspeakable  torments  of  the  vast  majority  of  man- 
Idnd,  of  that  mankind  for  whose  benefit  in  the  main  God  was 
nevertheless  held  to  have  created  the  world. 

If  we  would  know  the  ethical  principle  by  which  this  scheme 

of  things  can  be  justified,  we  can  again  turn  to  the  logical  Calvin, 

ill  A^  hoiii  we  find  the  consequences  most  thoroughly  pushed  home. 

We  merit  puni.shment  because  we  are  corrupted  by  sin,  and  if 

1  Caiviii,  ii.  141.  '^  ib.,  p.  147. 


MONOTHEISM  503 

it  be  replied  that  God  has  made  us  corrupt,  the  answer  is  that  the 
potter  has  power  over  the  vessel.  And  it  is  not  a  question  of 
power  alone.  God  is  the  supreme  judge  of  the  world,  and  the 
supreme  judge,  from  whom  issue  all  law  and  all  right,  can  do  no 
injustice.  That  is  just,  in  short,  which  God  wills,  and  if  he  deter- 
mined at  the  outset  upon  the  fall  of  man,  it  was  l:)ecause  he  fore- 
saw it  would  tend  to  the  justification  and  glory  of  his  name.^ 
With  the  admission  that  in  order  to  understand  the  justice  of  the 
scheme  of  God  we  must  understand  him  to  constitute  justice 
as  suits  him,  we  have,  in  point  of  fact,  passed  outside  the  range 
of  human  ethics.  We  have  admitted  that  ethical  conceptions, 
as  we  understand  them,  no  longer  apply,  and  Calvin  himself 
allows  that  the  destruction  of  mankind  is  guided  by  an  equity 
indubitable,  yet  unknown  to  us.  The  Deity  lays  down  an  ideal 
code  for  man,  but  the  code  which  men  ascribe  to  the  Deity  is 
not  ideal  and  can  only  be  excused  as  being  unintelligible  to  the 
human  mind.^  At  this  stage  the  ethical  and  religious  elements, 
the  blending  of  which  was  the  triumph  of  monotheism,  defiinitely 
fall  asunder  once  more  ;  and  those  who  will  not  face  this  schism 
find  themselves  compelled  to  make  some  room  for  human  re- 
sponsibility, and  to  conceive  a  will  wliich  is  not  a  mere  puppet 
of  an  overruling  Providence. 

5.  Wliile  limiting  by  implication  the  omnipotence  of  God, 
the  doctrine  of  Free  Will  is  not  without  ethical  clifiiculties  of 

1  Calvin,  pp.  U2-14S. 

At  this  point  in  theological  development  we  come  by  a  long  round  to 
the  arbitrariness  of  the  Mohammedan  Deity.  "  God's  is  what  is  in  Heaven 
and  in  the  earth,  and  if  ye  show  what  is  in  your  souls,  or  hide  it,  God  will 
call  you  to  account;  and  He  forgives  whom  He  will  and  punishes  whom 
He  will,  for  God  is  mighty  over  all"  {Koran,  vol.  i.  chap.  ii.  p.  45).  Com- 
pare page  62,  where,  however,  the  concluding  words  run  :  "  For  God  is 
forgiving  and  merciful."  Forgiveness  may  be  the  portion  of  any  but  the 
idolaters,  but  they  were  created  for  hell.  "  Had  God  pleased  they  would 
not  have  associated  aught  with  Him  "  (Koran,  i.  chap.  vi.  p.  128),  i.  e.  would 
not  have  worshipped  false  gods.  But  "  we  have  created  for  hell  many  of 
the  ginn  and  of  mankind.  They  have  hearts  and  they  discern  not  there- 
with ;  they  have  eyes  and  they  see  not  therewith ;  they  have  ears  and  they 
hear  not  therewith  ;  they  are  like  cattle,  nay,  they  go  more  astray ;  these 
it  is  who  care  not"  (chap,  vii,  p.  160).  These  men  God  predestines  to  the 
fire,  and  the  believers  are  not  to  intercede  for  them.  But  as  to  whether  He 
will  save  all  believers  who  avoid  sin,  it  does  not  seem  so  clear.  He  is  for- 
giving and  merciful,  but  bo  is  also  an  oriental  despot  in  whom  there  remains 
an  incalculalale  element  of  caprice. 

This  view,  it  need  hordly  be  said,  is  repudiated  by  modern  scientific 
theology,  which  substitutes  tor  the  retaliatory  a  disciplinary  view  of  punish- 
ment, and  tends,  if  a  little  hesitatingly,  to  a  doctrine  of  ultimate  universal 
salvation  (cp.  Adams  Brown,  op.  cit.,  pp.  293  seq.). 

-  Calvin,  ii.  148. 


604  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

its  own.  Will  either  is  or  is  not  an  expression  of  character. 
If  it  is  an  expression  of  character,  it  figures  but  as  one  link  in 
the  endless  chain  of  causes  and  effects.  We  may  trace  this 
chain  back  in  the  first  instance  to  the  original  nature  of  the  in- 
dividual, and  whether  we  say  that  this  is  determined  by  heredity 
or  Avas  what  God  made  it,  we  are  equally  throwing  the  responsi- 
bility back  on  to  something  anterior  to  the  individual,  and  on 
the  creationist  principle  tliis  sometliing  nuist  in  the  end  be 
God  himself.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  we  deny  that  Avill  is  an 
expression  of  character,  we  not  only  assert  something  which  is 
in  itself  unintelhgible,  but  we  in  reahty  destroy  the  very  re- 
sponsibility which  we  are  seeking  to  maintain.  For  responsi- 
bility ceases  when  identity  of  character  ceases.  A  man  is  justly 
rewarded  or  punished  for  what  he  has  done  only  so  far  as  he  can 
recognize  himself  as  the  doer.  If  the  "  I  "  who  did  the  deed 
is  the  "  I  "  which  suffers  for  it,  well  and  good.  But  this  "  I  " 
is  the  permanent  self  with  its  abiding  character,  and  punishment 
has  full  ethical  justification  only  so  far  as  it  tends  to  purge  and 
ennoble  the  character.  Thus,  if  the  theory  of  Free  Will  means 
that  it  is  not  this  self  that  does  the  deed,  but  a  Will  which  springs 
out  of  no  antecedent  cause  and  has  no  fixed  relation  to  what  the 
"  I  "  has  been  or  will  be,  then  it  is  not  the  "  I  " — the  permanent 
self— that  has  sinned,  and  to  punish  it  will  be  of  no  avail .^ 
Punishment  is  reduced  to  a  bhnd  retahation  on  the  body  which 
the  Will  possesses,  and  the  Will  itself  is  reduced  to  the  condition 
of  an  animistic  spirit  which  enters  a  man  from  without  and 
works  its  will  for  a  while  with  his  limbs. 

^  Thus,  the  man  who  is  punished  must  be  essentially  the  same  being  as 
he  who  did  the  deed.  That  is  to  say,  justice  and  responsibility,  ethically 
conceived,  imply  the  persistent  identity  of  the  personality.  But  this  per- 
sistent identity  is  precisely  that  which  the  Free  Will  doctrine  in  the  stage 
now  under  consideration  attempts  to  deny.  It  is  not  the  "  I,"  the  trend  of 
continuous  connection  running  through  all  my  conscious  life,  the  subject 
which  thinks  and  feels  and  knows — it  is  not  that  "  I  "  which  acts.  For 
this  "  I  "  has  its  definite  character,  modifiable,  no  doubt,  by  circumstances 
and  developed  by  its  own  reaction  upon  circumstances,  capable  of  being 
appealed  to  by  an  infinite  variety  of  motives  and  often  assimilating  new 
purposes,  but  nevertheless  always  the  same  "  I,"  the  character  of  which 
at  any  given  moment  arises  out  of  its  previous  state.  It  is  not  this  "  I," 
but  a  Will  that  acts,  a  Will  that  comes  from  nowhere  and  stands  in  no 
certain  relation  to  me.  This  Will  is  not  by  the  terms  of  the  argument 
what  "  I "  was  before  the  act  was  done.  Wlay,  then,  do  "  I  "  take  the 
praise  or  bear  the  blame  of  the  deed  ? 

The  doctrine  of  the  Undetermined  Will,  in  short,  destroys  the  moral 
responsibility  which  it  sets  out  to  establish.  Moral  responsibility  infers 
(1)  continuous  identity  of  character,  and  (2)  the  determination  of  action 
by  motives  adopted  in  accordance  with  the  character  of  the  agent.  This 
implies  "  free  will  "  in  the  sense  that  the  agent  must  be  unconstrained  by 
any  force  outside  inmself,  never  in  tiie  sense  that  he  is  free  irom  himself 


MONOTHEISM  505 

Furthermore,  on  either  conception  of  Free  Will  the  ultimate 
responsibility  of  the  Creator  for  evil  remains.  Sorrow  and 
suffering  do  not  begin  with  the  Fall,  or  if  any  theologian  attri- 
butes them  to  the  sin  of  Adam  and  Eve  in  the  spirit  of  the  curse 
in  Genesis,  he  is  merely  bringing  us  back  to  the  doctrine  of 
vicarious  guilt.  Even  if  all  evil  resulted  from  the  wicked  will 
of  man,  yet  it  is  God  who  made  man  and  gave  him  freedom 
to  act  as  he  would.  Thus,  though  omnipotence  is  limited,  its 
responsibihty  is  not  abrogated.^  The  conception  of  Free  Will 
alone  could  not  solve  the  difficulty.  But  taken  in  conjunction 
with,  a  more  rational  theory  of  the  function  of  punishment  it  has 
suggested  a  different  method  of  approach.  It  was,  above  all, 
the  doctrine  of  eternal  punishment  which  converted  the  difficul- 
ties arising  from  God's  foreknowledge  and  unlimited  power  into 
ethical  impossibihties.  This  doctrine  is,  of  course,  not  essential 
to  Monotheism ;  it  conflicts  with  the  moral  teaching  of  the 
Gospels ;  and  with  the  growth  of  a  more  refined  ethics  it  has,  in 
fact,  fallen  into  the  background.  Apologetics  have  then  to  cope 
with  the  evils,  moral  and  physical,  of  this  world,  and  their 
tendency  would  seem  to  be  towards  an  "  educative  "  conception. 
Free  Will  is  higher  than  instinct.  He  only  can  be  a  morally 
good  man  who  is  physically  and  psychologically  capable  of  being 
morally  bad,  for  "  ought  "  implies  "  can,"  and  it  is  only 

"  when  a  soul  has  seen 
By  dint  of  evil  that  good  is  best," 

that  it  can  enter  into  spiritual  rest.     In  no  other  way  could  a 
moral  order  come  into   being,  or  could  man   be  made  god-like. 

1  The  doctrine  of  the  dependence  of  responsibility  upon  character  has 
inherent  consequences  which  are  carefully  to  be  marked  off  from  those 
which  follow  from  theories  of  creation  or  of  the  nature  of  causation  with 
which  it  may  be  associated.  Moral  responsibility  implies  the  dependence 
of  action  upon  the  self  with  its  definite  character,  and,  since  the  self  does 
not  arise  out  of  nothing,  its  character,  and  therefore  its  conduct,  must  at 
the  next  remove  be  referable  to  the  conditions  out  of  which  the  self  arose. 
Following  this  line  of  thought  we  are  forced  to  conceive  of  Reality  as  a 
single  system  of  which  all  the  parts  are  interconnected.  The  argument 
does  not  imply  that  this  interconnection  is  of  a  mechanical  character.  On 
the  contrary — so  far  as  it  consists  in  psychical  operations  working  intel- 
ligently towards  clearly  conceived  ends,  as  is  the  case  at  least  in  human 
actions — these  are  the  opposite  of  mechanical.  Nor,  again,  does  the  argu- 
ment imply  that  any  intelligent  being  foresaw  and  planned  the  whole. 
If  either  of  these  creeds  are  held,  they  are  held  on  other  grounds.  What 
the  argument  goes  to  prove  is  that  Reality  is  a  single  system  of  inter- 
dependent parts.  What  kind  of  system  it  is  must  be  discovered  from 
other  sources.  It  is  only  when  taken  in  conjunction  with  the  belief  in  an 
all-knowing  and  all-powerful  Creator  that  this  doctrine  gives  rise  to 
the  ethical  difficulties  of  Predestination,  and  only  when  combined  with 
a  materialistic  view  of  the  universe  that  it  destroys  responsibility  and 
renders  liunian  purposes  an  illusion. 


506  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

As  with  moral  evil,  so  with  the  pain  and  suffering  inherent  in 
the  order  of  nature.  Sorrow  exists  that  man  may  learn  to  bear 
it.  The  happiness  of  childish  innocence  is  sweet,  but  not  so 
worthy  as  the  peace  won  for  itself  by  the  strong  soul  resting 
upon  God.  To  strive  is  the  law  of  life,  and  its  suffering  is  the 
pang  of  travail.  God  might  create  a  happy  paradise  for  children 
at  play,  but  he  could  not,  mthout  implanting  seeds  of  suffering, 
produce  the  nobler  race  of  strong  men  to  be  conquerors  of  the 
earth.  It  seems,  indeed,  impossible  to  state  this  explanation 
except  in  terms  which  condition  the  creative  power  of  God.  It 
may  be  that  to  strive  and  fall,  to  endure  suffering  in  ourselves 
and  even  the  sight  of  it  in  those  whom  we  love,  is  an  unavoidable 
condition  of  moral  growth,  but  if  this  is  so,  it  is  as  much  as 
to  say  that  there  are  laws  and  conditions  in  the  spiritual  world 
which  omnipotence  itself  cannot  infringe.  Unconditioned  crea- 
tion is  thus  in  principle  denied,  and  for  an  omnipotent  Dis- 
poser we  are  compelled  to  substitute  the  evolutionary  concep- 
tion of  a  Spirit  striving  in  the  world  of  experience  wdth  the 
inherent  conditions  of  its  own  growth  and  mastering  them  at 
the  cost  of  all  the  blood  that  stains  the  pages  of  history,  and  all 
the  unremembered  tears  that  bedew  the  lone  desert  places  of 
the  heart  .^ 

6.  Amid  all  metaphysical  difficulties  monotheism  remains 
clear  as  to  the  basis  of  the  ethical  order.  God's  Will  is  tlie 
source  of  moral  obligation,  his  Word  the  revelation  of  tlie 
practical  rule  of  life.  The  fulfilment  of  his  Will  is  the  means 
of  salvation,  and  salvation  is  propounded  as  the  supreme  end  of 
life  towards  which  every  thought  and  act  must  be  directed.  The 
order  of  ethical  ideas  springing  from  this  principle  has  its  own 
definite  features,  wliich  must  now  be  considered. 

^  Cf .  Adams  Brown,  o^).  cit.,  pp.  207-209,  who,  however,  in  fear  of  limiting 
the  divine  omnipotence,  and  rightly  rejecting  indeterminism,  leans  rather 
to  the  view  that  sin  itself  is  a  part  of  the  divine  plan  as  a  means  to  the 
experience  of  salvation.  That  a  limited  spiritual  power  might  be  driven 
to  this  method  as  the  only  one  available  would  be  a  thesis  at  least  in- 
volving no  contradiction,  but  that  omnipotence  could  not  achieve  its 
ends  without  the  tortiu^es  of  Torquemada  is  a  meaningless  proposition. 
\\1iat,  moreover,  is  the  actual  consciousness  of  a  man  who,  having 
sinned,  believes  that  in  so  doing  he  was  fulfilling  the  will  of  God  ?  How 
can  lie  at  the  same  time  feel  that  he  is  estranged  from  God  and  requires 
reconciliation  ? 

The  difficulties  of  Theism  only  become  contradictions  when  its  defenders 
insist  upon  omnipotence.  Yet  we  still  find  writers  as  open-minded  as 
Prof.  Adams  Brown  insisting  that  "  There  is  no  doctrine  which  is 
practicru^y  more  important  than  that  of  the  divine  omnipotence  "  {op. 
cit,,  p.  117). 


MONOTHEISM  507 

God  being  on  the  one  hand  a  perfect  Being,  on  the  other  the 
all-powerful  Lord  of  all,  all  wi'ong-doing  takes  upon  itself  the 
character  of  a  sin  against  him.  Sin  is  an  act  of  rebelhon  against 
a  supreme  authority,  and  it  stamps  the  soul  with  a  stain  of  guilt 
which  makes  it  unworthy  to  appear  in  the  divine  presence.  Sin, 
in  fact,  borrows  something  of  the  infinitude  of  the  Being  against 
whom  it  offends  and  puts  a  measureless  gulf  between  him  and 
the  sinner.  But,  in  the  Christian  conception,  man  inherited 
from  Adam — whether  through  the  Fall  or  by  a  primaeval  decree 
of  which  the  Fall  itself  was  but  the  first  consequence — an  original 
inherent  sinfulness,  whereby  even  those  of  the  most  spotless 
virtue  stood  condemned  in  the  sight  of  God.  Nor  could  any 
merit  of  their  own  avail  to  wipe  their  guilt  away,  for,  judged  by 
the  infinite  excellence  of  the  divine,  no  human  virtue  can  be 
called  positively  good,  and  our  best  acts,  far  from  yielding  an 
overplus  of  merit  which  could,  as  it  were,  be  set  against  our 
natural  faults,  are  themselves  but  poor  attempts  to  carry  ovit 
that  rule  of  sublime  perfection  which  alone  could  deserve  the 
divine  approval. 

In  all  this  the  religious  consciousness  is  expressing  in  its  own 
fashion  an  immeasurably  heightened  sense  of  the  gulf  between 
right  and  wrong.  In  so  doing  it  sets  for  itself  a  problem  which 
could  not  be  solved  altogether  by  etliical  means.  The  Fathers 
of  the  Church,  in  fact,  found  the  solution  in  the  history  of  Christ, 
who,  being  at  once  God  and  perfect  man,  gives  his  own  life  for 
us.  In  its  crudest  forms  this  conception  of  Atonement  implies 
the  primitive  doctrines  of  vicarious  justice,  and  the  transfer- 
abihty  of  guilt,  both  of  which  belong  to  a  relatively  low  stage  of 
ethical  development.^  But  the  conception  was  capable  of  a 
more  refined  expression,  and  in  Anselm's  hands  the  death  of 
Christ  appears  rather  as  a  voluntary  act  redounding  to  the 
glory  of  God,  and  thereby  meriting  a  recompense  which  Christ, 
not  needing  it  for  himself,  transfers  to  men.  He  makes  men 
the  "  heirs"  of  the  "  superabundance  of  his  plentitude  .  .  .  that 
what  they  owe  for  their  sin  may  be  remitted  to  them,  and 
what,  by  reason  of  their  sin,  they  lack,  may  be  given  to  them."  ^ 
In  this  treatment  it  is  a  question  rather  of  the  transfer  of  merit 
than  of  guilt,  and  this  merit  is  not  passed  on  mechanically  (as 
in  the  semi -magical  transfer  of  sins  to  the  scapegoat),  but  only 
by  spiritual  means— to  those  who  follow  Oirist  according  to  the 

1  3y  the  prevailing  tradition  down  to  Anselm's  time  it  would  even 
appear  that  the  Atonement  was  held  necessary  as  a  means  of  satisfying 
the  otherwise  iuip^'rative  claim  of  the  Devil.  See  liarnack,  vol.  vi.  p.  7U 
(E.  T.). 

*  ib.,  pp.  Oti,  67. 


508  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

rules  wliicli  his  Church  has  prescribed.  Tliis  reconstruction, 
however,  refines,  but  does  not  ehminate,  the  vicarious  principle, 
and  leaves  us  with  the  conception  of  a  divine  retribution,  not 
as  a  consequence  which  attaches  itself  by  a  moral  necessity  to 
the  state  of  the  sinner's  soul,  but  as  capable  of  being  somewhat 
arbitrarily  softened  by  a  gracious  consideration  for  the  noble  act 
of  another. 

The  death  of  Christ,  however,  does  not  win  salvation  for  all 
men  at  a  stroke.  There  are  further  conditions  to  be  fulfilled. 
The  first  and  greatest  of  these  is  faith  in  Christ  himself.^  With- 
out faith  no  virtue  can  save,  and,  though  they  had  no  means  of 
knowing  the  Gospel,  the  best  of  the  heathen  are  irrevocably 
lost.  This  may  be  said  to  have  been  common  ground  to  the 
churches  down  to  the  modern  period.^  But,  further  than  this, 
faith  not  merely  in  Christ,  but  in  the  Church's  own  scheme  of 
salvation  is  too  often  a  necessity,  and  no  virtue,  no  sanctity,  not 
even  the  utmost  plenitude  of  the  true  spirit  of  rehgion,  could 
avail  to  make  good  this  flaw.  "  For  any  man  who  does  not  hold 
the  unity  of  the  Catholic  Church,  neither  baptism,  nor  alms 
however  profuse,  nor  death  met  for  the  name  of  Christ,  can  be 

^  Faith  in  God  is  similarly  the  first  condition  of  salvation  with  Mohanuned. 
So  accursed  are  the  infidels  that  they  do  not  even  deserve  the  prayers  of 
the  faithful.  "  It  is  not  for  the  prophet  and  those  who  believe  to  ask  for- 
giveness for  the  idolaters,  even  though  they  be  their  kindred,  after  it  has 
been  made  manifest  to  them  that  they  are  the  fellows  of  hell  "  {Koran,  i. 
chap.  ix. ;  Pahner,  p.  189).  Sometimes  the  prophet  casts  his  net  wide. 
"  There  is  no  compulsion  in  religion ;  the  right  way  has  been  distinguished 
from  the  wrong,  and  whoso  disbelieves  in  Taghut  "  (i.  e.  the  idols  and 
demons  of  the  ancient  Arabs)  "  and  believes  in  God,  he  has  got  hold  of  the 
firm  handle  in  which  is  no  breaking  off ;  but  God  both  hears  and  knows  " 
{Koran,  i.  chap.  ii. ;  Palmer,  p.  40).  Elsewhere  threats  are  uttered 
against  the  Christians. 

-  Calvin  even  detracts  from  the  merits  of  the  heathen  :  The  good 
works  of  the  heathen  are  distinguished  from  bad  and  rewarded  in  this  life, 
but  Augustine  is  right  in  saying,  "  That  ail  who  are  strangers  to  the  religion 
of  the  one  true  God,  however  they  may  be  esteemed  worthy  of  admiration 
for  their  reputed  virtue,  not  only  merit  no  reward,  but  are  rather  deserving 
of  punishment  because  they  contaminate  the  pure  gifts  of  God  with  the 
pollution  of  their  own  hearts."  They  are  restrained  from  evil  not  by  a 
sincere  attachment  to  virtue,  but  by  ambition,  self-love,  or  some  other 
irregular  disposition.  The  end  of  what  is  right  is  always  to  serve  God,  and 
as  they  regard  not  this  end  any  externally  good  act  performed  by  them 
becomes  sin. 

Luther,  though  of  more  tolerant  disposition,  is  equally  clear  that  outside 
Christendom  there  is  no  forgiveness  and  can  be  no  holiness  {Primary 
Works,  ed.  Wace  and  Buchheim,  p.  104).  The  Anglican  Ai-tiele  XIII. 
denies  that  "  works  dqjie  before  the  grace  of  Christ "  are  pleasant  to  God — 
"  yea  rather,  for  that  they  are  not  done  as  God  hath  willed  and  commanded 
them  to  be  done,  we  doubt  not  but  they  have  the  nature  of  sin."  This 
view  is  satisfactorily  anathematized  by  the  Council  of  Trent  {Corpus 
Juris,  p.  14). 


MONOTHEISM  509 

of  benefit  for  his  salvation,"'  To  die  for  Christ  has  become  a 
sma]l  thing  compared  with  acceptance  of  precisely  the  right 
formula  to  express  his  relations  to  the  Deity.  The  ethical 
consequences  are  double.  Conduct,  and  not  only  conduct,  but 
the  whole  ethical  attitude  of  a  man,  his  character,  his  soul  as 
expressing  itself  in  his  life  and  in  his  relations  to  other  men, 
fall  into  the  second  place  and  are  subordinated  to  the  single 
consideration  of  his  attitude  to  the  doctrines  of  the  Cliurch — 
even  when  that  attitude  can  only  be  expressed  by  saying  that 
he  has  never  happened  to  hear  of  them.  Secondly,  the  original 
universahsm  of  the  world  rehgion  disappears,  and  for  the  old 
circle  of  the  fellow-citizens  marked  off  rigidly  from  the  rest  of 
the  world,  is  substituted  the  circle  of  the  true  behevers  marked 
off,  too  often,  by  a  deeper,  redder  line  from  the  rest  of  humanity. 

7.  But  faith  is  not  necessarily  the  sole  condition  necessary  for 
salvation.  Faith  admits  to  the  Church,  membership  whereof  is 
signified  by  baptism.  But  what  of  the  baptized  Christian  ?  Is 
he  sanctified,  "  justified,"  once  for  all,  or  may  he  yet  sin  and 
fall  from  grace  ?  Should  he  fall,  what  means  are  open  to  him  of 
regaining  salvation  ?  On  these  questions  deep  cleavage  came 
into  being.  The  dominant  view  in  the  early  Church  was  that 
while  baptism  washed  away  all  previous  sins,  after  baptism 
grave  sins  could  not,  unless  under  some  exceptional  circum- 
stances, obtain  forgiveness.^  The  Church  itself  was  to  be  a  com- 
munity of  saints,  and  dowTi  to  the  beginning  of  the  third  century 
expulsion  was,  in  fact,  the  penalty  for  idolatry,  adultery,  forni- 
cation and  murder.^  But  during  the  latter  half  of  the  second 
century  the  practice  of  alloving  a  single  penance  for  sin  began 
to  grow  up  as  a  "  second  plank  "  of  salvation  for  him  who  had 
made  sliipwTeck,  and  from  this  beginning  the  great  Cathohe 
system  of  discipHne  was  developed,*  and  the  vast  structure  oi 
the  Canon  Law.  If  the  church  was  to  "  come  down  to  earth  " 
and  embrace  not  only  the  saints,  but  the  whole  mass  of  sinful, 

1  Quoted  from  Fulgentius  in  the  Deer.  Greg.  Corpus  Juris,  p.  778, 
where,  however,  it  is  attributed  to  Augustine.  Augustine  suggests  that  good 
works  may  mitigate  damnation  when  they  cannot  procure  salvation,  and 
the  case  of  schismatics  wlio  endure  martyrdom  is  instanced  {De  Patientia, 
c.  26,  quoted  with  approval  by  Gratian,  p.  1228). 

2  Harnack,  vol.  i.  p.  172  (E.  T.). 

^  Op.  cit.,  vol.  ii.  pp.  108-109.  The  impenitent  were  threatened  with  the 
refusal  of  divine  forgiveness.  ^'Vliile  exclusion  was  the  logical  consequence 
of  the  conception  of  a  commimity  of  saints,  it  does  not  in  fact  seem  to  have 
been  pressed  home.  Offenders  were  often  dealt  with  in  the  light  of  a  special 
revelation. 

*  The  new  system  received  a  great  impetus  from  the  munerous  lapses 
in  the  Decian  persecution  (ih.,  vol.  ii.  pp.    110-112). 


510  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

struggling  humanity,  it  was  clearly  necessary  to  find  some 
means  of  dealing  with  sins  after  baptism,  and  means  more 
elastic  than  that  of  a  single  penance.  It  was  essential  to  recog- 
nize true  contrition  as  showTi  in  the  steadfast  purpose  to  lead  a 
new  life.  But  the  Church  did  more  than  recognize.  It  systema- 
tized it,  enjoining  confession  as  a  proof  of  contrition,  and 
penance  not  merely  as  an  outpouring  of  the  contrite  heart,  but 
as  a  means  of  satisfaction  for  the  offence.  The  theory  is 
somewhat  crudely  expressed  at  an  early  date  by  Cyprian,  who 
held  that  no  one  could  remain  permanently  without  sin  after 
baptism,  that  accordingly  God's  wrath  must  be  appeased  by 
sacrifices,  or  that  sins  must  be  expunged  by  exceptional  works 
of  merit,  among  wliich  almsgi^^ng  takes  a  conspicuous  place.^ 
Though  it  is  insisted  that  such  works  can  only  be  efficacious 
in  so  far  as  God  is  pleased  to  accept  them,  it  is  clear  that  the 
practical  working  out  of  such  a  principle  Avill  bring  us  peril- 
ously near  to  a  systematic  money  composition  for  sins,  quite 
comparable  to  the  secular  composition  for  wrongs  in  early  laws. 
The  theory  itself,  moreover,  contains  the  suggestion  that  special 
merits  may  be  weighed  against  sins ;  a  consideration  justly 
applicable  by  a  divine  judge  summing  up  upon  a  man's  whole 
career,  but  deadly  to  the  man  himself  .^ 

The  requisite,  but  perhaps  not  sufficient,  correction  to  this 
mechanical  doctrine  of  satisfaction  was  a  strong  insistence  on 
the  necessity  of  genuine  contrition  as  evidenced  by  a  change  of 
heart.  This  is,  in  fact,  put  forcibly  by  the  Fathers.^  and  a 
full  contrition  remains  the  main  essential  dowTi  to  the  thir- 
teenth century.  Gratian  is  even  uncertain  whether  confes- 
sion is  strictly  necessary  for  forgiveness,*  and  he  has  some 
difficulties  as  to  repeated  confession.  For  the  "  everyday  lesser 
and  lighter  sins  without  which  one's  life  is  not  led  "  satisfac- 
tion is  made  sufl&ciently  by  the  prayers  of  the  faithful.^     As  to 

1  Harnack,  vol.  ii.  pp.  133,  134. 

'  Harnack's  comment  is  not  too  severe.  "  Eine  Kirche,  die  sich  bei 
diesen  Satzen  aiif  die  Dauer  beruhigt  hatte,  hatte  den  letzten  Rest  ihrer 
Ciiristlichkeit  sehr  bald  eingebiisst "  (ib.,  p.  135). 

^  Thus  Ambrose,  "  Penitentia  est  et  mala  prseterita  plangere  et  plangenda 
iterum  non  committere  "  (Gratian,  p.  1211).  Again,  "  Satisfactio  pasni- 
tentife  est  peccatorum  causas  excidere  nee  earum  suggestionibus  aditum 
indulgere  "  (attributed  to  Augustine,  De  Dogm.,  p.  54,  by  Gratian,  but 
wrongly  so  according  to  the  editors).  This  is  the  change  of  heart,  "  Ubi 
dolor  finitur,  deficit  et  psenitentia  .  .  .  Hinc  semper  doleat  et  de  dolore 
gaudeat "  (Augustine,  De  Pcenit.,  quoted  ib.,  p.  1212).  This  is  the 
doctrine  of  lasting  remorse. 

*  See  the  long  discussion  in  Gratian,  Corpus  Juris,  pp.  1159-1190.  and 
compare  Harnack,  vol.  vi.  pp.  245,  246. 

^  Clratian,  p.  1214. 


MONOTHEISM  511 

graver  sins,  Gratip.n  is  clear  that  they  cannot  be  committed 
over  and  over  again  and  still  be  redeemed  by  alms.  Yet  the 
Church  allows  that  by  penitence  sins  are  remitted,  not  once, 
but  scepissime,  and  though  perfect  penitence  would  be  final,  yet 
there  are  degrees  in  penitence  as  there  are  in  charity,  and  he 
who  has  repented  once  is  cleared  of  his  sins  until  he  falls  again.^ 
In  all  this  we  see  clearly  enough  the  conflict  of  a  stricter  and  a 
laxer  view.^  With  the  growth  of  the  opinion  that  penance  docs 
not  pre-suppose  full  contrition,  but  only  an  attritio,  which  the 
sacrament  of  penance  itself  perfects,  an  impetus  was  given  to 
the  less  spiritual  conception,^  and  this  attained  its  full  develop- 
ment in  the  doctrine  of  indulgences  whereby  the  treasures  of 
merit  stored  up  by  the  faithful  for  the  Church,  and  at  her  dis- 
posal, could  be  held  to  remit  the  penalties  of  guiit  here  and  in 
purgatory  for  her  obedient  children.*  We  have  not  here  to  deal 
with  the  abuse  of  indulgences.  It  is  sufficient  for  us  to  note 
how  great  is  the  departure  from  an  ethical  theory  of  penitence, 
Avhen  the  Council  of  Trent  pronounce  an  anathema,  not  merely 
on  those  who  deny  that  the  function  of  the  priest  in  absolution 
is  judicial,  but  on  those  who  assert  that  true  repentance  is 
sho\vn  in  a  new  life  rather  than  in  performance  of  penance.^ 

The  Indulgences  led  directly  to  the  Reformation,  and  the  abuse 
of  "  works  "  went  far  to  determine  the  attitude  of  the  Reformers 
to  the  whole  question  of  Justification.  The  moralistic  theory 
of  nicely-graduated  penalties  for  sin  and  of  the  cancelling  out  of 
sin  against  merit  had  ended  in  ethical  disorder  and  even  scandal. 
Luther  went  back  to  the  alternative  principle  of  salvation,  and 
justification  by  faith  alone  is  announced  in  statements  that 
sometimes  seem  to  sweep  the  whole  ethical  order  aside. 

"  We  see,  then,  how  rich  a  Christian,  or  baptized  man  is,  since, 
even  if  he  would,  he  cannot  lose  his  salvation  by  any  sins,  how- 

^  Corpus  Juris,  pp.  1213-1215. 

^  Or  perhaps  a  formalistic  as  against  an  ethical  view.  The  rules  oi 
confession  became  stricter — the  decretals  of  Gregory  IX.  lay  down  de- 
finitely that  every  adult  must  confess  at  least  once  a  year  {Corpus  Juris, 
p.  887) — while  the  spiritual  meaning  of  penitence  is  watered  down. 

3  See  Harnack,  vol.  vi.  pp.  248  ff.  (E.  T.). 

*  The  doctrine  of  indulgence  as  laid  down  by  Clement  VI.  is  a  very  crude 
statement  of  the  transfer  of  merit,  and  the  consequent  cancelling  of  sin. 
"  Quem  quidem  thesauruna  non  in  sudario  repositum,  non  in  agro  abscon- 
ditum,  sed  per  beatum  Petrum  .  .  .  eji.isque  successores  suis  in  terris 
vicariis  comniisit  (Dei  filius)  fidelibus  salubriter  dispensandum,  et  propriis 
et  rationabilibvis  causis  nunc  pro  totali,  nunc  pro  partiali  remissione 
pcenae  temporalis  pro  peccatis  debitss,  tam  generaliter  quam  specialiter  .  .  . 
vere  poenitentibus  et  confessis  misericorditer  applicandtim  "  (quoted  in 
Harnack,  op.  cit.,  p.  267).     This  is  not  much  above  the  level  of  the  sin-eater. 

^  Corpus  Juris,  Council  of  Trent,  p.  39. 


512  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

ever  great,  unless  he  refuses  to  believe ;  for  no  sins  whatever 
can  condemn  him  but  unbelief  alone.  All  other  sins,  if  faith 
in  the  divine  promise  made  to  the  baptized  man  stands  firm 
or  is  restored,  are  swallowed  up  in  a  moment  through  that  same 
faith,  yea,  through  the  truth  of  God,  because  He  cannot  deny 
Himself,  if  thou  confessest  Him,  and  cleavest  believmgly  to 
His  promise;  whereas  contrition  and  confession  of  sins,  and 
satisfaction  for  sins,  and  every  effort  that  can  be  devised  by  man, 
will  desert  thee  at  thy  need,  and  will  make  thee  more  miserable 
than  ever,  if  thou  forgettest  this  divine  truth,  and  pufFest  thyself 
up  in  such  things  as  these.  For  whatever  work  is  wrought 
apart  from  faith  in  the  truth  of  God  is  vanity  and  vexation  of 
spirit."  1 

This  might  seem  to  open  the  door  to  Antinomianism.  But 
Luther  would  maintain  that  instead  of  taking  morals  out  of 
rehgion,  he  had  given  them  their  true  place  within  rehgion. 
They  are  not  a  means  of  grace,  but  a  consequence  of  grace. 
"  Good  works  do  not  make  a  good  man,  but  a  good  man  does 
good  works."  ^  The  servile  theory  of  reward  and  punishment 
should  be  banished  from  ethics.  The  Christian  virtues  are  a 
free  service  lovingly  rendered  to  God.  "  Here  is  the  truly 
Christian  life,  here  is  faith  really  working  by  love,  w^hen  a  man 
applies  himself  with  joy  and  love  to  the  works  of  that  freest 
servitude  in  which  he  serves  others  voluntarily  for  nought,  him- 
self abundantly  satisfied  in  the  fulness  and  richness  of  his  own 
faith."  ^  Similarly  in  Cahin,  he  who  knows  God  "restrains 
himself  from  sin,  not  merely  from  a  dread  of  vengeance,  but 
because  he  loves  and  reveres  God  as  his  Father,  honours  and 
worships  Him  as  liis  Lord,  and,  even  though  there  were  no  hell, 
would  shudder  at  the  thought  of  offending  Him."  * 

^  Luther,  Christian  Liberty,  p.  343.  "  ib.,  p.  275. 

'  ib.,  p.  2S0. 

*  Calvin,  vol.  i.  p.  37;  cf.  vol.  ii.  p.  52,  on  Christian  liberty.  Calvin 
explicitly  rejects  the  contention  that  the  works  excluded  from  the  scheme 
of  justification  are  merely  the  ceremonial  works  of  the  law.  Moral  works 
go  with  them  (vol.  i.  p.  595).  All  our  best  actions  judged  bj''  their  in- 
trinsic merit  are  already  defiled  and  polluted  (p.  603),  we  have  therefore 
merely  to  hiunble  ourselves  and  submit  to  the  divine  mercy  (p.  60-1),  and 
our  hope  must  be  founded,  not  on  our  own  regeneration,  which  is  always 
imperfect,  but  on  oiu*  being  engrafted  into  the  body  of  Christ  and  so 
gratuitously  accounted  righteous  (pp.  610-611).  Humility  is  here  carried 
out  consistently,  but  at  the  cost  in  the  end  of  throwing  an  arbitrary  choice 
on  the  Deity. 

It  is  important  that,  in  Calvin,  regeneration  does  not  complete  itself  at  a 
stroke.  Its  end  is  the  restoration  of  the  divine  im^age  within  us,  which  is 
not  accomplished  in  a  day,  but  by  continual  and  sometimes  tardy  advances. 
A  fraction  of  evil  still  remains  within  us  which  produces  irregular  desires 
alluring  us  to  sin  (vol.  i.  p.  ■I'O). 


MONOTHEISM  513 

Here  the  ethical  consciousness  has  regained  its  freedom  from 
the  bondage  of  a  system  of  rewards  and  punishments.  Yet  the 
union  of  the  ethical  and  religious  is  even  more  completely  un- 
done. It  is  one  thing  to  point  out  that  virtue  ceases  to  be  virtue 
when  it  asks  for  a  reward.  It  is  quite  another  to  relegate  the 
whole  question  of  character  and  condiict  to  the  second  place. 
From  tliis  criticism  the  Counter-Reformation  escaped  by  at- 
tempting an  elaborate  and  extremely  subtle  reconciUation  of 
faith  and  works,  divine  grace  and  the  responsibility  of  the  human 
will.  Justification,  the  Council  lays  do'un,  is  by  Christ  alone, 
but  only  for  those  to  whom  the  merit  of  his  passion  is  communi- 
cated. The  first  step  in  this  communication  begins  "  A  Dei  per 
Christum  Jesum  prseveniente  gratia,"  by  which  people  are  called 
by  no  previously  existing  merits  of  their  o^^ti  to  their  own 
justification.  But  they  must  assent  and  freely  co-operate  with 
the  grace  of  God,  so  that  man  is  not  inactive  and  yet  could  not 
move  towards  justification  without  God's  grace.  Faith  is  the 
beginning  of  salvation,  but  faith  without  works  is  dead,  and 
neither  faith  nor  works  merit  justification,  nor  could  they  confer 
it  but  for  the  grace  of  God.  Grace  is  lost  by  any  mortal  sin, 
but  those  who  fall  away  may  be  restored  by  aid  of  the  sacrament 
of  penance. 

The  Council  proceeds  to  pronounce  thirty-three  anathemas  on 
any  one  who  falls  away  from  this  narrow  plank  of  truth  whether 
to  the  right  or  to  the  left.  It  curses — to  confine  ourselves  to 
the  most  important  points — any  one  who  shall  maintain — 

(Clauses  1,  2,  3)  That  man  can  be  justified  by  works,  or  by 
any  effort  of  his  own  will,  without  grace.  (4)  That  human  will 
cannot  co-operate  or  decline  co-operation  with  the  Divine 
Spirit,  "  sed  veluti  inanime  quoddam  nihO  agere."  (5  and  6) 
That  there  is  no  free  wiU,  but  that  God  produces  evil  as  well 
as  good,  "  non  permissive  solum  sed  etiam  proprie."  (7)  That 
all  works  before  justification  are  sins.  (8)  That  the  fear  of  hell 
which  restrains  from  sins,  is  a  sin.  (9)  That  justification  is  by 
faith  alone.  (11)  That  it  is  by  remission  of  sins  without  grace 
and  charity.  (12)  That  justifying  faith  is  nothing  but  trust 
in  the  divine  mercy.  (13)  That  personal  belief  in  our  own 
salvation  is  necessar}'.  (17)  That  grace  is  for  those  predestined 
to  life  only  while  others  are  called  but  do  not  receive  grace  "  ut- 
pote  divina  potestate  prsedestinatos  ad  malum."  (18)  That 
God's  commandments  are  impossible  even  for  the  justified. 
(19)  That  there  is  no  gospel  except  faith.  (20)  That  the  justified 
is  bound  not  to  obedience  to  the  commands  of  God  and  the 
Church  but  only  to  belief.  (23)  That  man  once  justified  cannot 
sin.     (24)  That  works  do  not  increase  justification.     (25  and  26) 

L  L 


514  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

That  the  just  earns  no  merit  bj^  good  works.  (27)  That  there 
is  no  mortal  sin  except  unbelief.  (28)  That  through  sin  faith 
is  lost  along  with  grace.  (29)  That  the  lapsed  after  baptism 
cannot  recover  grace  without  penance.  (30)  That  the  penitent 
sinner  may  escape  temporal  pvmishment.  (31)  That  good  works 
done  in  contemplation  of  an  eternal  reward  are  sins.  (32)  That 
the  good  works  of  one  who  is  justified  are  gifts  of  God  in  such  a 
sense  that  they  are  not  also  merits  of  the  man  himself.^ 

Here  there  is  at  least  a  stout  attempt  to  reconcile  divine 
grace  and  human  responsibility,  and  to  make  morahty  along 
with  belief  essential  to  salvation.  On  the  other  hand,  will  is 
still  second  to  grace — the  prime  mover — and  conduct  to  belief — 
the  preliminary  condition,  nor  is  the  fundamental  ethical  point 
of  the  Reformers  met,  that  moral  service  must  be  a  service  of 
perfect  freedom. 

8.  Christianity,  hke  Buddliism,  has  an  elaborate  theory  of  the 
basis  of  morals,  and  has  applied  it  to  the  moral  and  spiritual 
education  of  man.  It  can  teach,  encourage,  admonish,  punish, 
forgive,  and  raise  again  to  repentance  and  amendment  of  life. 
But  in  applying  its  principles  to  life,  it  has  moved  between  two 
poles  of  difficulty,  which  are  perhaps  inherent  in  the  nature  of 
the  subject.  To  elaborate  a  system  of  rewards  and  punishments 
is  to  run  the  risk  of  degrading  morals  into  a  form  of  spiritual 
calculation.  The  opposite  alternative  of  declaring  that  conduct 
follows  truly  and  naturally  from  the  convinced  faith  of  a  Christian 
tends  to  degrade  the  ethical  side  of  religion  to  a  secondary 
place.  On  behalf  of  the  Protestant  theory  it  may  be  urged  that 
rewards  and  punishments,  except  in  so  far  as  they  are  the 
inlierent  consequences  of  action,  belong  to  the  legal  stage  of 
ethical  development.  They  are  necessary  for  the  maintenance 
of  social  order,  but  are  out  of  place  when  brought  into  relation 
to  moral  obligation  proper,  and  even  tend  to  undermine  the 
genuine  ethical  conception.  Thus,  it  may  be  said,  Protestantism, 
while  seeming  to  give  a  less  important  place  to  ethics,  was 
really  restoring  to  the  moral  will  the  "freedom" — from  the 
bondage  of  external  sanctions — which  it  had  lost,  and  so  has 
paved  the  way  for  a  distinctly  ethical  view.  But  the  truth  is 
that  neither  Protestantism  nor  the  Roman  Church  advanced  to 
the  ethical  position  that  it  is  the  good  man  through  his  goodness 
who  is  nearest  to  God.  Too  intent  on  the  doctrine  of  exclusive 
salvation,  with  all  that  it  meant  for  the  dignity  and  importance 
of  their  respective  churches,  they  readily  agreed  upon  one  point, 
*  Council  of  Trent,  Corpus  Juris,  13,  14,  15. 


MONOTHEISM  516 

that  God  was  with  them  alone,  and  could  see  no  good  outside 
their  respective  bodies.  And  they  paid  the  penalty  of  spiritual 
pride  by  marring  the  conception  of  righteousness  at  its  source, 
and  breaking  up  that  union  of  ethics  and  rehgion  which  it  was 
the  special  function  of  Monotheism  to  acliieve  and  maintain. 
In  the  theories  underlying  both  the  main  forms  of  Western 
Christianity  that  union  is  impaired,  if  not  destroyed,  by  concep- 
tions from  wliich  theologians  have  not  been  able  to  escape  of 
the  nature  of  God  and  his  relation  to  the  world  and  to  man. 
Not  being  willing  to  surrender  the  conception  of  the  Deity  as 
an  omnipotent  Creator  standing  outside  his  world,  they  have 
been  compelled,  under  whatever  disguises,  to  impute  to  him  its 
evil  along  with  its  goodness.  To  explain  the  liistory  of  Christ 
they  have  maintained,  Mdth  whatever  refinements,  the  doctrine 
of  transferable  merit,  and  in  magnifying  faith  they  have  made 
true  lovableness  and  beauty  of  character  secondary  in  God's  eyes. 
To  this  extent  etliical  monotheism  has  failed  in  its  intention. 

9.  With  regard  to  the  standard,  as  opposed  to  the  basis  of 
morals,  all  forms  of  monotheism  have  something  in  common. 
God  is  the  Father  of  aU.  Therefore,  all  men  are  brothers,  and 
should  be  members  of  oneCliurch.  This  potential  universahsm 
is  common  to  Islam  and  Christianity,  and  the  logic  of  it  is  so 
strong  that  it  even  half  broke  down  the  barriers  of  Jewish 
national  exclusiveness.  But  in  its  fundamental  teaching  Chris- 
tianity has  really  more  affinity  to  Buddhism,  In  becoming 
Christian,  as  in  becoming  Buddidst,  the  whole  moral  nature  of 
a  man  undergoes  a  change.  The  point  of  view  is,  as  it  were, 
reversed.  The  "  eye  of  the  soul  "  is  turned  in  a  new  direction. 
The  morals  of  the  "natural  "  man,  as  we  have  seen  them  in 
development,  concern  the  maintenance  of  his  family,  his  clan, 
his  community,  his  class.  They  are  not  selfish.  They  may 
impose  upon  him  the  extreme  of  seK -denial.  But  they  are  in 
their  most  typical  development  the  morals  of  the  warrior — 
brave,  loyal,  proud,  generous,  upright,  of  the  Greek  or  Roman 
patriot,  of  the  modern  man  of  honour.  Sometimes  they  are 
called  the  morals  of  self-assertion.  But  the  term  is  hardly 
just.  Self-assertion  was  not  the  note  of  Regulus,  or  of  the  two 
Spartans  who  surrendered  themselves  to  the  Great  King  that 
they  might  wipe  out  the  curse  incurred  by  their  country  through 
its  treatment  of  the  Persian  herald.  It  is  truer  to  say  that 
they  are  the  morals  of  men  who  assert  themselves,  and  with 
or  through  themselves  their  family,  their  caste,  their  country, 
whose   very  self-denial  is  founded  on  the   pride  of  life,   the 


516  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

honour  of  a  name,  the  glory  of  a  tradition.  As  against  this,  the 
Buddhist,  and  still  more  the  Christian,  teaching  insists  on  a  far 
more  thoroughgoing  self -surrender.  Pride  is  now  the  dead- 
liest of  the  deadly  sins.  Through  pride  the  angels  fell.  Out 
of  the  mouths  of  babes  and  sucklings  God  has  ordained  praise. 
He  has  brought  down  the  mighty  from  their  seat  and  exalted 
the  humble  and  meek.  He  has  made  the  fooHsh  things  of 
this  world  to  confound  the  wise.  His  own  Son  is  despised 
and  rejected  of  men,  and  his  followers  rejoice,  and  are  ex- 
ceeding glad,  when  men  persecute  and  revile  them  and  say 
all  manner  of  evil  things  against  them  for  his  sake.  They  give 
up  the  world,  they  put  away  the  joy  and  pride  of  living.  They 
lose  their  own  life,  and  in  losing  they  find  it.  They  must 
sacrifice,  not  merely,  as  the  older  ethics  taught  them,  life  and 
home  and  rank  and  fortune  for  their  country's  good,  but  the 
very  pride  of  race  or  family  on  which  that  sacrifice  was  based, 
the  very  idea  of  worldly  greatness  to  achieve  which  for  their 
city  seemed  the  noblest  duty  of  man.  The  soul  must  not 
merely  sacrifice,  it  must  surrender  itself,  abandon  its  pride, 
break  down  its  barriers,  and,  in  meekness,  learn  its  duty.  But, 
here  the  moral  paradox  begins,  in  this  weakness  lies  its  strength. 
Lao  Tse  had  already  taught  that  as  water  wears  away  the 
rock,  so  the  weakest  things  of  this  world  overcome  the  strong. 
This  total  self-surrender  to  the  eternal  truth  meant  a  complete 
spiritual  victory  over  the  lords  of  time.  The  meek  shall  inherit 
the  earth,  not  merely  the  heavens.  Because  they  have  humbled 
themselves  beyond  all  others  they  are  set  above  all  others. 
They  overcome  hatred  with  love.  They  conquer  by  refusing 
to  resist,  and  meet  assault  by  turning  the  other  cheek  to  the 
smiter.  And  beneath  this  yielding  softness  of  exterior  they 
reveal,  when  the  right  season  comes,  a  firmness  which  is  harder 
than  adamant. 

In  the  old  moral  order  men  could,  with  a  clear  conscience,  be 
equally  good  haters  and  good  lovers.  It  was  said  to  them  of 
old  time,  "  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour  and  hate  thine 
enemy."  But  the  code  of  self-surrender  has  no  room  for  hate. 
Hatred  is  assertion,  and  its  exercise  manifests  the  fallacy  of 
assertion,  for  its  open  expression  is  the  blood  feud  which  never 
ends,  but  remains  an  open  wound  in  the  vitals  of  society. 
Morally  regarded,  revenge  is  a  matter  of  physical  strength  and 
a  poor  satisfaction  at  best.  There  is  a  nobler  way  of  dealing 
with  an  enemy  which  conquers  him  far  more  efifectually. 
"  Hatred,"  Buddha  taught,  "  does  not  cease  by  hatred  but  by 
love."     If  you  are  in  the  wrong,  it  is  for  you  to  make  amends. 


MONOTHEISM  v  617 

If  it  were  he,  then  pity  him  for  that  he  is  wandering  in  error 
and  bHnd  to  the  truth.  No  doubt  wrong-doing  must  carry  its 
punishment.  But  it  is  not  for  finite  intelhgence  to  measure  the 
guilt  and  assign  the  due  penalty  upon  another  man.  "  Venge- 
ance is  mine,  I  will  repay,  saith  the  Lord."  As  for  us,  the  best 
of  us  are  sinners  infinitely  far  from  the  divine  perfection  and 
needing  infinite  mercy  for  ourselves.  If  we  judge  others,  shall 
not  we  ourselves  be  judged  ?  And  if  neither  personal  antagon- 
isms nor  moral  differences  are  to  interfere  Avith  love,  still  less 
can  the  barriers  of  class,  and  race,  and  sex  be  allowed  to  stand. 
We  are  all  alike  members  one  of  another,  sons  of  God,  brothers 
and  sisters  upon  earth  and  co-heirs  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 
Among  us  there  can  be  no  difference  of  Jew  or  Gentile,  bond  or 
free,  noble  or  lowly.  He  is  most  noble  who  the  lowliest  duties 
on  himself  doth  lay.  The  fallen  woman  becomes  a  saint  and 
the  crucified  thief  is  the  first  to  sup  with  the  Saviour  in  Para- 
dise. The  kingdom  of  God  is  not  peopled  by  those  who  have 
proved  themselves  the  strongest  on  this  earth.  To  their  Father 
the  fate  of  the  weakest  and  most  despised  is  of  no  less  moment 
than  that  of  those  who  have  many  talents  entrusted  to 
them.  The  principle  of  Comprehensiveness — against  the  more 
exclusive  view  of  earlier  morals — is  here  pushed  to  its  furthest 
point.  Here,  at  least,  Christian  ethics  at  their  best  have  been 
determined  and  consistent,  and  here  in  this  resolute  recognition 
of  weakness  has  been  their  strength.^  Nor  is  salvation  merely  a 
personal  end  which  each  must  win  for  himself.  It  is  also  the  duty 
of  every  good  Christian  to  win  it  for  his  brothers.  He  must  go 
out  into  the  highways  and  hedges  and  compel  them  to  come  in. 
The  universalism  of  rehgion,  then,  is  not  the  somewhat  pale  and 
negative  doctrine  of  equal  rights  on  which  moral  philosophy 
insists.     It  imposes  a  no  less  universal  standard  of   duty,  and 

^  Any  one  who  will  compare  St.  Paul's  description  of  Charity,  in  which 
term  the  whole  of  the  distinctively  Christian  ethics  is  summed  up,  with 
the  Buddhist  description  of  the  true  Brahinana,  with  the  description  of  the 
Highminded  or  Great  Souled  man  in  the  Ethics  (book  iv.),  and  of  the 
Superior  man  in  scattered  passages  of  the  Confucian  Analects  (see  below, 
chap,  v.),  will  form  an  idea  of  the  relation  of  Christianity  to  other  ethical 
systems.  I  take  the  description  of  the  Great  Souled  man  as  typical  of 
ordinary  Greek  thought,  of  the  pagan  "  pride  of  life."  The  Great  Souled 
man  "  deems  himself  worthy  of  great  things,  being  in  reality  worthy 
of  them."  There  is  an  honesty  in  his  attitude  to  himself  which  is  by  no 
means  to  be  confused  with  arrogance — a  "  proper  pride  "  which  is  the 
alternative  to  the  Christian  humility.  But  for  passages  typical  of  Greek 
philosophy  as  opposed  to  pre-philo?ophic  thought  wo  must  look  elsewhere, 
e.  g.  in  Aristotle  himself  to  the  description  of  the  philosophic  life  (book 
X.),  to  Plato's  description  of  the  just  man,  and  to  that  of  the  wise  man  in 
Epictetus  or  Marcus  Aiirelius. 


518  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

demands  a  missionary  spirit  on  the  part  of  its  true  professors. 
Ultimately  this  carries  with  it  a  demand  upon  society,  which 
owes  to  its  members,  and  to  the  outer  heathen,  the  means  of 
grace.  Whether  as  expressing  the  claims  or  the  duties  of  the 
individual,  the  doctrine  of  salvation  may  be  taken  as  the  keystone 
of  the  Christian  ethics,  the  basis  of  its  aggressive  conquering 
activity,  the  inspiration  of  that  wide  humanity  which,  under  the 
most  distorted  forms  of  human  personahty,  recognizes  the  same 
essential  soul  to  be  saved.  It  enshrines  a  truth  which  modern 
rationahsm  has  sometimes  ignored,  and  it  lays  the  foundation 
of  an  ethics  which  is  not  content  with  the  mere  regulation  of 
relations,  but  sets  out  to  conquer  the  world  for  the  Spirit. 

10.  Love,  universal  benevolence,  forgiveness,  humihty,  meek- 
ness, combined  with  the  extreme  of  resolute  endurance  for  con- 
science' sake — such  are  the  necessary  outcome  of  that  emptjdng 
of  self  which  Buddliism  and  Christianity  alike  demanded.  In 
them  the  spiritual  order  formed  for  itself  a  new  sphere  detached 
from  the  more  elementary  morals  of  the  ordinary  good  citizen. 
In  this  detachment,  however,  were  seeds  of  trouble.  We  have 
already  seen  that  the  Buddhist  life  could  hardly  be  lived  in  its 
perfection  by  the  ordinary  householder.  The  spiritual  and  the 
human  had  already  fallen  apart.  In  Christianity  the  fissure  is 
in  some  respects  deeper.  It  is  in  monotheism  that  there  first 
arises  a  clear  distinction  between  the  natural  and  the  super- 
natural. In  the  earlier  phases  of  religion  the  intervention  of 
gods  and  spirits  was  a  matter  of  course,  a  thing  of  everyday 
life.  But  in  proportion  as  the  one  God  absorbs  all  power  into 
himself,  the  course  of  the  world  comes  to  be  thought  of  as 
running  smoothly  and  continuously  in  the  line  which  he  has 
laid  down  for  it,  and  his  direct  interference  with  its  orderly 
movements  becomes  something  marked  and  exceptional,  re- 
served for  great  occasions  or  for  the  special  prayers  of  the 
faithful.  Thus  a  well-marked  antithesis  arises  between  "na- 
ture "  conceived  as  the  ordinary  course  of  events,  and  the 
"  supernatural  "  conceived  as  that  which  belongs  directly  to  the 
sphere  of  God.  This  antithesis  dominates  Christian  teaching 
from  first  to  last,  and  has  a  profound  influence  upon  ethics.  For 
in  proportion  as  nature  is  separated  from  God,  that  which  per- 
tains to  nature  is  set  in  antithesis  to  that  which  belongs  to 
God,  and  is  apt  accordingly  to  partake  of  the  character  of  sin. 
The  great  institutions  of  humanity,  marriage,  fatherhood,  citizen- 
ship, are  things  of  this  world.  The  Christian  must  make  his 
account  with  them,  but  they  are  not  of  Christian  origin.  He 
is  to  honour  the  king,  because  he  is  not  to  concern  himself  with 


MONOTHEISM  519 

worldly  revolutions.  The  powers  that  be  are  ordained  of  God, 
but  merely  to  regulate  the  secondary  and  profane  affairs  of  this 
life.  Christ's  true  kingdom  is  not  of  this  world.  It  may  be 
necessary  for  the  Church  in  the  end  to  come  out  into  the  world 
and  regulate  the  affairs  of  men,  for  the  universal  benevolence 
taught  us  by  Christ  forbids  us  to  be  indifferent  to  the  happiness 
or  misery  of  our  brother-men,  and,  above  all,  we  can  in  no  way 
afford  to  neglect  their  spiritual  interests,  to  which  state  laws 
ought  in  future  to  accommodate  themselves.  But  the  emergence 
of  the  Church  into  affairs  of  this  world  is  like  the  descent  of 
Plato's  philosopher  into  the  cave.  The  true  saint  finds  no  joy 
in  it.  His  life  is  not  there,  but  hid  with  Christ  in  God.  And  if 
in  the  end  the  Church  became  too  much  a  thing  of  this  world 
and  allowed  itself  to  be  by  the  world  corrupted,  that  is  but  the 
other  side  of  the  same  shield.  The  detachment  of  what  was 
best  in  Christianity  from  the  world's  affairs  made  a  Christian 
body  unfit  to  rule  the  world's  affairs.  Christianity  has,  in 
fact,  no  theory  of  society  by  which  to  guide  itself.  Its  doc- 
trine is  personal.  The  common  life  that  it  contemplates  is 
a  life  of  brotherly  love,  a  community  of  saints,  where  all  things 
are  in  common  and  lawsuits  are  not,  nor  any  other  mode  of 
maintaining  order  by  the  strong  arm.  Hence,  amid  all  the 
wonderful  descriptions  of  charity,  of  love,  of  self-surrender,  we 
hear  very  little  of  justice.  Indeed,  how  could  it  be  otherwise  ? 
Wliat  need  of  justice  when  love  readily  yields  up  all  ?  Why 
talk  of  a  fair  division  to  one  who,  if  his  cloak  be  taken,  will  make 
that  a  ground  for  giving  up  his  garment  ?  What  need  for  equal 
rights  among  men  who  claim  nothing  for  themselves  and  yield 
all  they  have  to  all  who  want  ? 

11.  The  code  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  appears  to  con- 
template what  in  modern  phrase  we  should  call  a  voluntaryist 
or  Anarchist  community.  Non-resistance  is  its  central  feature. 
There  is  to  be  no  fighting,  no  revenge,  no  lawsuits,  no  oaths, 
no  self-defence,  no  insistence  on  private  property,  no  excessive 
provision  for  the  future.  If  there  is  to  be  any  marrying  or 
giving  in  marriage  at  all,  there  is  to  be  no  divorcing  of  wives 
"  save  for  the  cause  of  fornication."  There  is  to  be  unbounded 
charity  without  display.  Altogether  a  hfe  that  might  be  lived 
for  a  while  by  a  picked  brotherhood  of  perfect  men  and  women .^ 
How  were  these  rules  to  be  made  apphcable  to  a  world  in  which 
men  and  women  are  so  far  from  perfect  ?     In  regard  to  the 

^  In  fact,  the  Christian  hfe,  far  from  being  a  scheme  of  permanent  social 
regeneration,  was  originally  conceived  as  preparatory  to  an  imminent 
millennimn.  There  is  here  an  important  point  of  difference  between  the 
primitive  Christian  commonwealth  and  the  Buddhist  order. 


520  MORALS  IN   EVOLUTION 

general  principle  that  law  and  government  are  necessities  of 
human  existence,  the  Church  was  helped  by  those  passages  of 
the  Scriptures  prescribing  obedience  to  constituted  authority. 
These  sufBced  as  long  as  Christianity  was  the  rehgion  of  a 
persecuted  sect,  but  when  it  became  the  official  creed  of  the 
empire  a  further  step  was  necessary,  and  means  had  to  be 
found  of  justifying  believers  in  acting  as  judges  and  in  executing 
the  law  upon  criminals.  This  was  done  by  drawing  a  distinction 
between  the  man  and  his  office.^  Even  the  judicial  act  of 
torture  was  but  faintly  reprobated  or  even  justified  by  the 
Fathers.2  The  only  serious  doubt  was  as  to  capital  punishment. 
This  was  so  genuine  that  Augustine  begs  Count  Marcellinus, 
in  punishing  certain  Donatists  who  had  murdered  a  Catholic 
priest,  to  avoid  either  inflicting  death  or  mutilation .^  For  a 
long  period  Christian  clerks  refused  to  enter  death  sentences  in 
so  many  words,  and  at  certain  periods,  e.  g.  in  England  under 
the  Conqueror,  death  sentences  were  wholly  suspended  for  a 
time  under  the  influence  of  the  Church.*  In  general,  punish- 
ment was  to  be  limited  by  charity,  and  not  to  be  embittered 
by  the  spirit  of  vengeance.  The  reproof  administered  to  the 
apostles  for  wishing  to  call  fire  down  upon  the  Samaritans  was 
a  warning  against  vindictiveness.  Injuries  to  self  should  not 
be  punished,  but  only  those  against  God  or  our  neighbour. 
Punishment  is  like  a  medicine,  and  the  precept  that  we  should 
love  our  enemies  does  not  mean  that  we  should  relax  censure, 
or,  if  in  the  end  it  is  required,  punishment,  but  that  we  should  so 
carry  out  punishments  as  to  reform  the  criminal  and  console 
the  penitent.^     These  were  excellent  precepts,  though  they  bore 

^  Augustine,  Epis.  154,  adopted  by  Gratian,  Corpus  Juris,  p.  932 ;  cf.  924, 
"  Non  imputatur  fidelibus  qui  ex  officio  aut  tormenta  exercent  aut  capitalem 
sententiam  ferunt  " ;  and  see  letter  of  Pope  Innocent  there  quoted.  Cf. 
Jerome,  super  Hierem.,  vol.  iv.  p.  22  (Gratian,  p.  939).  "  Homicidas  et 
saerilegos  et  venenarios  punire  non  est  effusio  sanguinis  sed  legum  minis- 
terium."  Cf.  Gratian,  896,  quoting  or  paraphrasing  (see  note  ib.)  Au- 
gustine on  Psalm  eviii.,  to  the  effect  that  retaliation,  though  it  is  hardly 
the  part  of  a  good  man  to  demand  it,  may  rightly  be  inflicted  by  the  judge. 
"  Hie  enim  malum  pro  malo  redderet,  judex  vero  non,  sed  delectatione 
justitise  justuin  injusto  quod  est  boniun  pro  malo,"  an  ingenious  turning  of 
the  phi'ase,  but  surely  a  perversion  of  its  original  meaning. 

"  See  preceding  note,  and  Corpus  Juris,  p.  936.  In  Ep.  159,  Augustme 
congratulates  Marcellinus  on  getting  at  the  truth  withovit  the  use  of  any 
tortiu-e  worse  than  flogging,  "  qui  modus  coercionis  .  .  .  ab  ipsis  parentibus 
adhibetur,  ut  ssepe  etiam  in  judiciis  ab  episcopis  solet  haberi  "  (Gratian, 
p.  929). 

=>  Ep.  159.     Gratian,  p.  928. 

*  See  Pollock  and  Maitland,  i.  88;  ii.  452. 

'  Gratian,  Corpus  Juris,  pp.  909-914.  Cf.  also  Ambrose,  Sermon  viii., 
quoted  p.  915.  Mercy  mriy  be  unjust.  We  should  not  give  unrepentant 
robbers  the  opportunity  of  ret^irning  to  their  wickedness. 


MONOTHEISM  521 

singularly  little  fruit,  and  for  fifteen  centuries  the  criminal 
codes  of  most  Christian  nations  remained  a  standing  reproach 
to  civilization. 

Recognizing  the  authority  of  the  law  and  the  courts,  the 
Church  was  also  compelled  to  admit  the  oath.  It  should  be 
taken  not  lightly,  but  when  civil  necessities  so  required.^  It 
has  been  left  to  isolated  sects,  like  the  Society  of  Friends,  to 
maintain  the  literal  teaching  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount 
on  this  point.  There  remained  the  further  question  whether 
the  law  should  be  obeyed  when  in  conflict  with  conscience  or 
the  dictates  of  religion.  The  powers  that  be  are  ordained  of 
God,  and  that  has  led  many  devout  Christians  to  a  doctrine 
of  passive  obedience.  The  Canon  Law,  however,  recognized 
that  disobedience  to  secular  authorities  is  often  necessary, 
and  if,  possibly,  it  may  be  right  "  per  obedientiam  bonum 
deserere,"  yet  it  can  never  be  lawful  positively  to  do  "WTong.^ 
The  doctrine  of  non-resistance  was  destined  to  play  its  part 
as  a  moral  support  of  absolutism,  and  it  was  even  accepted 
by  Calvin,  though  rejected  with  much  practical  effect  by  so 
many  Calvinists.^  It  is  manifestly  appropriate  only  to  a 
small  community  which  desires  to  lead  its  ovm  hfe  in  the  midst 
of  a  great  world  that  it  can  never  hope  to  control.  Hence 
its  most  practical  exponent  in  the  modern  world  has  been  the 
great  writer  who,  living  under  the  shadow  of  a  tyranny  of 
overwhelming  power,  could  defy  all  efforts  to  silence  him, 
primarily  because  he  deprecated  violence  and  confined  the  efforts 
of  himself  and  his  school  to  moral  protests.  Yet  this  same  teach- 
ing, effective  while  the  t3n?anny  was  supreme,  is  out  of  date  and 
mischievous  from  the  first  moment  at  which  it  is  shaken. 

The  principle  of  resistance  admitted  in  the  case  of  resort  to 
the  machinery  of  law,  is  extended  to  the  more  doubtful  case 
of  warfare.  We  have  already  traced  the  outline  of  Christian 
teaching  on  this  point,  and  the  somewhat  dismal  tale  need  not 
here  be  told  again.  On  this  side  also  the  maintenance  of  the  pure 
teaching  of  the  Gospel  has  been  left  to  small  and  isolated  sects. 

Wliile  the  doctrine  of  non-resistanc#  was  frankly  abandoned 
by  the  majority  of  the  churches,  the  doctrine  of  communism 
had  a  somewhat  different  history.     It  is  accepted  in  the  Canons 

1  Corpus  Juris,  pp.  861-862. 

-  Gratian,  p.  671,  chap.  99.  Chap.  ci.  is  more  stringent,  and  see  chap.  xci. 
and  cxii.  Even  a  bishop  should  not  be  obeyed  if  he  should  enjoin  the 
singing  of  a  mass  for  heretics  (p.  669). 

"  Institutes,  ii.  62,  6;}.  However,  Calvin  admits  that  God  sometimes 
raises  up  a  servant  as  an  avenger.  Ho  is  also,  of  course,  quite  clear  that 
no  behest  of  a  magistrate  that  is  contrary  to  divine  law  must  be  obeyed 
(cf.  iv.  chap.  XX). 


522  MORALS   IN    EVOLUTION 

as  a  part  of  the  divine  law,  but  as  abrogated  by  the  positive 
law  of  the  empire.^  Instead  of  communism  the  Church  preached 
abundance  in  charity,  and  on  this  was  founded  the  great  system 
of  poor  relief  which  has  played  so  large  a  part  in  the  mediseval 
and  modern  world.  On  this  side  the  Christian  teaching,  though 
in  a  modified  form,  was  incorporated  in  established  institutions. 
But  stiU  the  pure  teaching  of  the  Gospel  was  left  to  a  few  con- 
demned sectaries  to  preserve,  and  was  put  aside  by  respect- 
ability as  being  merely  that  wliich  "certain  Anabaptists  do 
falsely  boast."  Yet  the  ideal  has  never  wholly  died  out,  and  we 
owe  to  it  in  our  own  times  all  the  zeal  and  energy  which  Christian 
SociaHsts  have  thrown  into  the  movement  for  reforming  the 
conditions  of  industrial  life.  Here  as  elsewhere  it  is  the  few  who 
take  the  Gospel  literally  that  leave  their  mark  upon  the  world. 

12.  To  attempt  to  trace  the  full  influence  of  Christian  ethics 
on  social  morality  is  far  beyond  the  scope  of  this  work.  It  is 
a  question  of  countless  actions  and  interactions,  nor  are  there 
many  questions  of  history  in  which  a  Just  verdict  would  be  so 
difficult  to  come  at.  Christianity,  like  other  movements,  in 
descending  from  the  mount  to  the  plain  loses  much  of  its  purity, 
while  in  turn  gaining  something  from  the  impulse  of  other 
movements  and  contact  with  a  wider  life.  These  actions  and 
reactions  make  up  a  great  part  of  the  liistory  of  nineteen  cen- 
turies, and  to  deal  with  them  fairly  would  be  a  work  for  many 
volumes.  We  have,  however,  in  the  first  part  of  this  work, 
seen  something  of  the  workings  of  Christian  teaching  in  various 
departments  of  law  and  morals,  of  its  influence  on  marriage 
and  the  position  of  women,  on  criminal  justice,  on  war,  on 
slavery  and  class  distinctions,  on  the  practice  of  benevolence, 
on  the  idea  of  the  state  and  its  functions  in  social  life.  This 
influence  is  not  one  that  can  be  summed  up  in  a  single  word  as 
good  or  bad,  nor  is  it  even  always  harmonious  in  itself.  Naturally 
the  different  sects  into  which  Christendom  has  been  divided 
have  at  times  worked  in  contrary  directions  in  the  ethical  as 
in  the  theological  sphere.  If,  for  instance,  we  take  the  ques- 
tion of  slavery,  we  should  have  to  weigh  the  recognition  of  the 
institution  by  the  early  Church  against  the  prohibition  of  the 

^  "  Jure  diviiio  omnia  sunt  communia  omnibus,  jure  vero  constitutionis 
hoc  meum  illud  alterius  est  "  (Gratian,  p.  12).  Cf.  p.  2,  where  the  principle 
is  referred  distinctly  to  "  natural  "  law.  Augvistine  ingeniously  applies  it 
to  justify  the  confiscations  of  the  property  of  the  Donatists  (p.  12,  note)  in 
favour  of  the  Catholics.  No  one  holds  any  property  except  by  human  law 
as  interpreted  by  tlie  emperor.  The  emperor  gives  and  the  emperor  may 
take  away.  There  is  no  trace  here  of  that  divine  right  of  property  of  which 
modern  orthodoxy  sometimes  speaks. 


MONOTHEISM  523 

enslavement  of  Christian  prisoners  and  the  encouragement  of 
manumission  :  we  should  have  to  put  the  sanction  of  negro 
slavery  in  the  sixteenth  century  in  the  one  scale,  and  all  the 
work  of  the  Quakers  and  the  Evangehcal  churches  for  its  aboli- 
tion in  the  other.  If  we  take  criminal  justice,  we  should  have 
to  allow  for  the  spirit  of  clemency  which  arose  from  the  sanctity 
attached  by  the  early  Church  to  human  life,  and  equally  to 
admit  that  the  religious  persecutions  stand  as  instances  of  what 
human  savagery,  pushed  to  its  extreme  limit,  can  acliieve.  If 
our  example  were  the  position  of  women,  we  should  have  to 
weigh  the  loss  of  the  independence  and  dignity  enjoyed  by 
the  Roman  matron  and  the  degradation  for  a  long  period  of 
the  ideal  of  marriage,  against  a  conception  of  the  moral  and 
religious  capabilities  of  womanhood  which  paved  the  way, 
first  for  charity,  and  ultimately  for  justice.  In  these  and  so 
many  other  cases  "  Christianity  "  is  hardly  to  be  distinguished 
from  the  civihzation  of  Christendom.  Wliat  is  done  officially, 
whether  for  good  or  for  evil,  is  generally  done  in  its  name,  and 
that  cause  must,  indeed,  be  desperate,  which  cannot  find  some 
Biblical  text  or  patristic  saying  to  twist  to  its  support.  It  would 
manifestly  be  unscientific  to  attribute  corruptions  of  tliis  sort  to 
Christianity  as  such.  On  the  other  hand,  if  what  is  bad  finds 
support  in  some  distortion  of  reUgious  teaching,  it  is  equally 
true  that  the  churches  claim  credit  for  much  that  is  good  with 
which  Christianity  has  no  special  connection,  and  the  epithet 
Christian  is  freely  applied  to  virtues  and  moral  principles  that 
are  far  older  and  more  universal  than  Christianity.  Lastly, 
when  we  are  taking  the  work  of  special  sects  into  account,  we 
must  remember  that  their  ideas,  though  they  themselves  might 
claim  them  as  exclusively  Christian,  may  be  in  greater  or  less 
degree  inspired  by  the  general  culture  of  their  age  to  which 
elements  not  distinctly  Christian  would  contribute. 

Probably  we  shall  be  safe  in  following  the  historian  of  the 
period  during  which  Christianity  superseded  Paganism  in  attri- 
buting to  Christian  influence  in  the  first  place  a  heightened  sense 
of  the  sanctity  of  human  life.  We  have  seen  this  at  work  in 
the  teaching  of  the  Church  as  to  penal  law.  Mr.  Lecky^  calls 
attention  also  to  the  prohibition  of  abortion  and  infanticide, 
along  with  the  growth  of  public  provision  for  exposed  children 
and  for  children  of  destitute  parents.®  In  this  relation  the 
action  of  the  Church  was  determined  rsither  by  the  belief  in  the 

1  European  Morals,  vol.  ii.  p.  20. 

*  ib.,  p.  30.  Constantine's  law,  however,  provided  for  the  enslavement 
of  the  exposed  child  to  its  protector.  That  was  repealed  for  the  Eastern 
empire  by  Justinian. 


524  MORALS  IN   EVOLUTION 

terrible  fate  awaiting  unbaptized  children  than  bj'^  humanitarian 
feeling  in  our  «ense  of  the  term,*  The  suppression  of  gladia- 
torial shows  is  a  more  decisive  instance  of  the  triumph  of 
humanity,  and  with  this  we  may  associate  the  efforts,  perhaps 
not  very  strenuous  efforts,  of  the  Church  to  suppress  private 
fighting.  For  the  rest,  the  historian  lays  stress  on  those  efPorts 
to  mitigate  slavery  and  warfare,  and  to  extend  and  systematize 
works  of  charity,  to  which  reference  has  been  already  made. 
Apart  from  these  contributions  to  humanitarian  progress  the 
ideals  of  asceticism  and  cehbacy  and  the  establishment  of  indis- 
soluble monogamous  marriage  (resting,  however,  on  the  free  con- 
sent of  both  parties)  were  the  most  noteworthy  contributions  of 
organized  Christianity  to  the  ethics  of  the  mediaeval  world. 

If,  however,  we  take  the  Christian  teaching,  apart  from  all  in- 
adequacies of  historical  application,  as  a  statement  of  an  ethical 
ideal,  and  seek  to  measure  its  value  as  an  ideal,  a  more  decisive 
judgment  is  possible.  It  carries  one  side  of  ethics  to  the  highest 
possible  pitch  of  perfection,  but  it  leaves  another  side  compara- 
tively neglected.  The  conception  of  a  brotherhood  of  love  based 
on  the  negation  of  self  is  demonstrably  inadequate  to  the  pro- 
blem of  reorganizing  society  and  intelligently  directing  human 
efforts.  Even  on  the  personal  side  it  is  deficient,  for  human 
progress  depends  on  the  growth  and  perfecting  of  faculty,  and 
therefore  requires  that  provision  be  made  for  a  self-develop- 
ment which  is  not  selfishness  but  builds  up  a  better  personality 
on  a  basis  of  self -repression.  Equally  on  the  social  side  the 
ideal  of  loving  self-surrender  is  beautiful,  but  not  always  right. 
Utter  self-sacrifice  is  magnificent,  but  it  is  not  justice,  and 
justice  and  reciprocity  are  even  more  essential  elements  in 
any  commonwealth  that  can  survive  and  include  average 
humanity  within  it  than  the  readiness  to  resign  all  for  the  sake 
of  others- — a  willingness  which  can  hardly  be  made  a  uni- 
versal rule  Avithout  bringing  action  to  a  standstill.  Nor  does 
true  love  mean  brotherly  kindness  and  a  diffused  benevolence 
alone,  but  legitimately  includes  the  whole  gamut  of  human 
passions — if  the  lust  of  the  eye  be  excepted — and  a  working 
ethical  system  must  not  suppress  but  provide  a  place  for  these. 
Applying  these  considerations,  we  can  see  that  spiritual  religion, 
though  it  recognizes  personality,  fails  to  give  it  full  scope  in  all 
its  legitimate  developments.  It  exalts  the  common  life,  but  pays 
little  attention  to  the  actual  conditions  of  any  social  structure. 
It  inculcates  duties,  but  overlooks  rights — a  factor  scarcely  less 
essential  to  social  progress.  Finally,  having  found  its  ideal  in 
^  Hence  in  particular  the  condemnation  oi  abortion  (Lecky,  vol.  ii.  p.  23). 


MONOTHEISM  525 

the  heavens,  and  invested  it  with  supernatural  authority,  it  leaves 
it  to  the  priesthood  to  bring  down  to  earth,  by  that  method  of 
exegesis  which  tends  too  often  to  practise  men  in  the  art  of 
asserting  principles  without  meaning  them,  and  accepting  ideals 
with  readiness  because  they  know  how  to  escape  the  practical 
difficulties  of  their  application.  Self-suppression,  universal 
brotherhood,  the  conquest  of  strength  by  silent  endurance,  these 
remain  ideals  of  conduct  for  which  every  rational  system  of 
ethics  must  find  a  place,  but  they  are  not  the  whole  of  social 
morality,  and  some  of  them  are  even  capable  of  being  pressed  to 
the  point  of  danger.  It  is  not  merely  that,  humanity  being 
what  it  is,  the  life  of  the  Gospel  could  only  be  Hved  by  a  select 
community  of  saints.  There  is  another  side  to  the  question. 
The  opposition  of  the  natural  to  the  supernatural  degrades  the 
ordinary  Life  of  men.  What  is  of  this  world  belongs  to  the 
flesh,  and  what  belongs  to  the  flesh  is  of  the  nature  of  sin.  In 
the  pursuit  of  an  ideal  which  few  or  none  can  realize,  the  ele- 
ment of  the  divine  which  lies  in  our  ordinary  human  nature 
is  overlooked,  or  rather  it  is  denied.  That  the  love  of  man  and 
woman,  of  parent  and  child,  may  be  a  passion  which  can  on 
occasion  raise  the  most  ordinary  and  least  saint-Uke  among 
us  to  heights  of  self -negation  which  no  ascetic  can  surpass, 
is  a  truth  to  which  common  experience  testifies.  Yet  super- 
naturalism  which  could  paint  the  mystic  love  of  the  cloistered 
enthusiast  could  only  conceive  of  sexual  love  as  a  bondage  of 
the  flesh  .^  This  utter  misconception  of  one  side  of  human 
nature  is  only  an  extreme  case  of  a  general  tendency.  Super- 
natural ethics  fail  in  that  they  do  not  recognize  the  ideal 
element  in  the  performance  of  natural  duty.  Love  of  country, 
loyalty  to  comrades,  devotion  to  truth  and  justice,  all  serve 
earthly  and  temporal  ends,  but  are  in  themselves  to  be  reckoned 
among  the  spiritual  forces  that  guide  and  inspire  mankind. 
With  this  interpretation  of  the  spiritual,  supernaturahsm  is  not 
contented.  Its  service  must  be  consciously  dedicated  to  the 
glory  of  God.  It  must  eliminate  the  passions  which  retain  in 
them  anj^hing  of  an  earthly  element.  It  must  cut  the  ties  that 
bind  us  to  this  world  and  extirpate  at  the  root  the  deadly 
passions  that  drag  us  into  mortal  sin.  Hence  it  demands  a  life 
separated  from  the  world,  which  mixes  with  the  world  from 
benevolence  alone,  but  for  its  own  part  is  dead  to  this  natural 
existence  and  fives  only  for  Christ. 

Fortunately  for  the  Western  world  supernaturahsm  was  but 

^  For  the  revolting   conception  of  womanhood  held  by  many  of   the 
saints,  see  Lecky,  Hintory  of  European  Morals,  vol.  ii.  pp.  llG  seq. 


526  MORALS   IN  EVOLUTION 

one  side  of  Christianity.  Christ  himself  was  no  anchorite,  and 
his  teaching,  if  exacting,  was  also  tender.  There  have  never 
been  wanting  individuals  to  show  the  world  that  it  was  possible 
to  follow  in  his  steps,  and  live  externally  the  ordinary  life  of  a 
commonplace  citizen  while  their  souls  within  them  are  filled  ^\ith 
their  Master's  teaching  and  overflowed  in  charity  to  all  mankind. 
It  is  here,  in  the  simple  personal  following  of  Christ,  that  the 
strength  of  Christianity  "will  always  lie — not  in  the  mazes  of 
dogmatic  theology,  not  in  the  spiritual  machinery  for  drawing 
souls  to  God,  not  in  the  teaching  of  the  churches,  not  in  the  pomp 
of  ceremonial,  not  in  the  fervour  of  the  preacher,  not  even  in  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  mystic  who  dreams  of  his  oneness  with  God — 
not  in  these  does  Christ  live,  but  first  in  the  few  who  live  as  he 
did,  shedding  the  light  of  peace  around  them,  and  next  in  the 
wider  circle  of  those  who,  dwelling  on  the  borderland  dim  betwixt 
vice  and  virtue,  or  in  the  twilight  of  conventional  ideas,  are 
irradiated  now  and  then  by  a  gleam  from  the  true  meaning  of 
words  with  which  they  have  been  all  their  lives  familiar,  and  for 
a  while  see  themselves  as  they  are  and  respond  with  some  eliort, 
however  faint  and  short,  towards  the  truth  of  things. 


CHAPTER  V 

ETHICAL    IDEALISM 

1 .  The  preceding  chapters  have  illustrated  the  close  connection 
between  ethical  and  religious  ideas.  We  have,  in  fact,  seen 
ethics,  upon  the  whole,  in  a  position  of  dependence  and  subor- 
dination. But  we  have  now  to  deal  with  more  independent 
forms  of  ethical  tliinking.  In  barbaric  society,  indeed,  reflection 
of  this  kind  occupies  no  very  important  place ;  it  hardly  goes 
beyond  some  of  those  proverbial  maxims  of  conduct  which  form 
the  simple  worldly  wisdom  of  uncultivated  peoples  all  the 
world  over.  In  the  early  civihzations  we  find  this  proverbial 
philosophy  acquiring  a  somewhat  fuller  development  as  exem- 
plified in  the  seven  sages  of  ancient  Greece  and  the  gnomic 
poetry  wliich  belongs  to  the  same  period.  We  have  already 
mentioned  certain  regular  treatises  on  practical  morals  which 
are  a  feature  of  ancient  Egyptian  literature.  Writings  of  this 
kind  are  not  without  their  value  for  the  historical  student,  pre- 
cisely because  they  do  little  more  than  formulate  the  current 
ideas  of  the  age  to  which  they  belong.  Indeed,  the  whole  race 
of  proverbial  moralists  through  the  four  thousand  years  that 
separate  Ptah-Hotep  and  Martin  Tupper  are  apt  to  degenerate 
into  platitudinists.  They  utter  irreproachable  sentiments — senti- 
ments, at  least,  irreproachable  according  to  the  standard  of 
their  own  times — but  we  can  hardly  think  that  even  in  their 
own  day  men  rose  from  the  perusal  of  them  with  any  deep  feel- 
ing of  gratitude  for  heightened  insight  into  the  laws  of  conduct 
or  the  relations  of  man  to  man.  In  them  the  ethical  ideal  is 
not  yet  born ;  they  take  the  traditional  morahty  and  formulate 
it  into  neat  and  general  statements. 

It  is  far  otherwise  wdth  the  class  of  thinkers  A\ith  whom  we 
have  now  to  deal.  We  have  seen  in  the  history  of  rehgion  a 
stage  at  which  the  divine  (which  at  first  is  lower,  and  for  long 
ages  is  at  least  no  higher,  than  the  human)  becomes  idealized, 
and  there  arises  a  conception  of  a  spiritual  being  which  is  an 
embodiment  of  all  that  man  can  dream  of  perfection.  This  is 
one  way  in  wliich  an  ideal  dawns  upon  humanity.  The  other 
way  is  through  reflection  upon  life  and  man's  place  in  it,  upon 

527 


528  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

human  nature  and  its  potentialities,  upon  human  action  and  its 
ends.  Following  this  road,  thought  proceeds  by  the  dehberate 
examination  of  human  experience,  and  seeks  thereby  to  deter- 
mine where  man's  true  purpose  lies.  By  this  method,  with 
little  or  no  reference  to  supernatural  sanctions  or  even  to  divine 
commands,  it  may  make  for  itself  an  ideal  of  conduct,  to  which 
it  calls  man  to  conform  simply  because  such  conduct  is  best  for 
himself  and  for  humanity.  In  such  a  method  we  have  the 
beginning  of  an  ethical  system  conceived  as  the  basis  of  a  con- 
scious ordering  of  human  life  by  the  deliberate  efforts  of  the 
best  and  wisest  members  of  the  human  race ;  and  we  have  now 
to  trace  briefly  the  development  of  tliis  ideal,  and  to  indicate 
the  phases  which  it  has  assumed  and  the  function  which  it  has 
performed  in  different  civihzations, 

2.  Between  the  sixth  and  the  fourth  centuries  before  Christ 
schools  of  thought  following  this  method  arose  in  two  distant 
parts  of  the  world  —  in  China  and  in  Greece.  The  Chinese 
thinkers  founded  a  great  system  which  from  that  day  to  this,  in 
spite  of  the  efforts  of  the  reactionary  dynasty  which  destroyed 
the  classical  books  and  prohibited  their  teaching,  has  guided 
the  destiny  of  what  was,  down  almost  to  our  own  times,  by  far 
the  greatest  empire  of  the  world  in  point  of  population.  It  has 
supphed  the  rule  of  life  for  the  governing  classes  and  maintained 
the  essence  of  Chinese  culture  intact  through,  and  in  spite  of, 
successive  irruptions  of  semi-barbarous  conquerors ;  and  may 
thus,  so  far  as  its  practical  influence  is  concerned,  fairly  claim 
respect  as  one  of  the  greatest  and  most  influential  doctrines  of 
ethical  conduct  which  the  world  has  known.  Wliat,  then,  were 
the  leading  doctrines  of  the  founder  of  this  influential  school  ? 

The  first  principle  of  an  ethical  idealism,  which  is  to  rise 
above  the  common  morality  of  custom  and  to  depend  on  its  own 
excellence  rather  than  upon  any  religious  sanction  to  recom- 
mend it  to  mankind,  must  from  the  nature  of  the  case  lay  down 
that,  for  the  individual,  virtue  is  its  own  reward.  It  is  this 
which  distinguishes  the  etliical  from  the  supernatural  view  of 
morals  on  the  one  hand  and  the  materiaHstic  or  prudential  on 
the  other.  This  principle  is  constantly  insisted  upon  by  Con- 
fucius :  "I  have  not  seen  a  person  who  loved  virtue  or  one 
who  hated  what  is  not  virtuous.  He  who  loved  virtue  would 
esteem  nothing  above  it ;  he  who  hated  what  is  not  virtuous 
would  practise  virtue  in  such  a  way  that  he  would  not  allow 
anything  that  was  not  virtuous  to  approach  his  person."  ^  The 
^  Legge,  Confucian  Analects,  Book  IV.  cliap.  vi.  sec.  1. 


ETHICAL  IDEALISM  529 

sage  whose  conscience  is  clear  and  who  knows  that  his  deahngs 
are  upright  can  fear  no  punishment  from  the  powers  of  this 
world.  "Heaven  has  produced  the  virtue  that  is  in  me. 
Hwan-T'uy — what  can  he  do  to  me  ?  "  ^  And  again  :  "  The 
determined  scholar  and  the  master  of  virtue  will  not  seek  to 
live  at  the  expense  of  injuring  their  virtue.  They  will  even 
sacrifice  their  lives  to  preserve  their  virtue  complete."  ^  Every 
man  is  master  of  himself,  and  thus,  as  the  Western  Stoic  taught, 
has  a  sovereignty  which  no  one  but  himself  can  take  from  him. 
"  The  commander  of  the  forces  of  a  large  state  may  be  carried 
off,  but  the  will  of  even  a  common  man  cannot  be  taken  from 
him."  3  The  sage  is  not  made  of  adamant  nor  is  he  wholly 
unaffected  by  fortune  and  misfortune,  but  he  shows  his  strength 
by  rising  superior  to  calamity.  "  With  coarse  rice  to  eat,  with 
water  to  drink,  and  my  bended  arm  for  a  pillow,  I  still  have 
joy  in  the  midst  of  these  things."  *  Even  the  desire  of  post- 
humous fame  must  be  banished  from  the  mind.  It  is  true 
that  by  a  very  human  weakness  the  superior  man  dislikes  the 
thought  of  his  name  not  being  mentioned  after  his  death,^  but 
this  motive  is  rejected  as  unworthy.  "  To  live  in  obscurity  and 
yet  practise  wonders  in  order  to  be  mentioned  with  honour  in 
future  ages,  this  is  what  I  do  not  do."  ^  Nor  is  there  any  hint 
of  a  divine  reward.  The  current  doctrine  of  universal  animism 
is  not  indeed  explicitly  rejected  by  Confucius,  but  he  nowhere 
appeals  to  the  benefits  to  be  gained  from  the  cult  of  spiritual 
beings,  but,  on  the  contrary,  warns  his  followers  to  have  as  little 
to  do  ^\ith  them  as  possible,  and  devote  themselves  instead  to 
their  duty  towards  their  neighbours.  "  To  give  oneself  earnestly 
to  the  duties  due  to  men  and,  while  respecting  spiritual  beings, 
to  keep  aloof  from  them,  may  be  called  wisdom."  '  Nor  does 
Confucius  encourage  tliinking  about  the  future  life.  Ke  Loo 
asked  about  serving  the  spirits  of  the  dead.  The  Master  said, 
"  While  you  are  not  able  to  serve  men,  how  can  you  serve  their 
spirits  ?  "  Ke  Loo  added,  "  I  venture  to  ask  about  death."  He 
was  answered,  "  Wliile  you  do  not  know  Hfe,  how  can  you  know 
about  death  ?  "  ®  Only  the  consciousness  that  the  Supreme 
spiritual  being  who  inhabits  heaven  knows  him  through  and 
through  remains  a  consolation.  "  Alas  !  there  is  no  one  that 
knows  me.  .  .  .  But  there  is  heaven; — that  knows  me."  ^     And 

1  Legge,  Confucian  Analects,  Book  IV.  chap.  vii.  sec.  22. 

2  ih..  Book  XV.  chap.  viii.  *  ih..  Book  IX.  chap.  xxv. 
*  ib..  Book  VII.  chap.  xv.                              *  ib..  Book  XV.  chap.  xix. 

^  The  Doctrine  of  the  Mean,  chap.  xi.  '  Analects,  Book  Yl.  chap.  xx. 

^  ib..  Book  XI.  chap.  xi.  '  ib..  Book  XIV.  chap,  xxxvii. 

M  M 


530  MORALS  IN   EVOLUTION 

the  appointment  of  heaven  is  frequently  recognized  and  used 
as  a  ground  for  ignoring  the  littleness  of  men  and  the  obstinacy 
of  rulers.  "  If  my  principles  are  to  advance,  it  is  so  ordered. 
If  they  are  to  fall  to  the  ground,  it  is  so  ordered.  Wliat  can 
the  Kung-pih-Leaou  do,  where  such  ordering  is  concerned  ?  "  ^ 
Fortified  by  the  favour  of  heaven,  the  superior  man  rises  above 
all  ordinary  human  weaknesses  and  is  completely  master  of  him- 
self. "  The  way  of  the  superior  man  is  threefold.  .  .  .  Virtuous, 
he  is  free  from  anxieties ;  wise,  he  is  free  from  perplexities ; 
bold,  he  is  free  from  fear."  ^  Upon  the  whole,  Stoicism  itself 
has  hardly  drawn  a  bolder  picture  of  the  self -poised,  self -master- 
ing personahty,  lord  of  his  own  bosom  and  therefore  of  all  things 
that  affect  him.  But  as  with  Stoicism,  so  with  Confucius,  this 
self-mastery  is  founded  upon  nature,  and  manifests  itself  in  con- 
formity to  the  rules  of  social  life,  in  the  execution  of  justice  and 
the  practice  of  benevolence.  "  The  doctrine  of  our  master," 
said  Tsang,  "is  to  be  true  to  the  principles  of  our  nature  and 
the  benevolent  exercise  of  them  to  others — this,  and  nothing 
more."  ^  Similarly,  the  Master  said,  "  Man  is  born  to  upright- 
ness. If  a  man  lose  his  uprightness  and  yet  live,  his  escape 
from  death  is  the  effect  of  mere  good  fortune."  *  This  nature  is 
conceived  as  common  to  all  men,  the  differences  that  arise  being 
due  to  their  own  conduct.  "  By  nature,  men  are  nearly  alike ; 
by  practice,  they  get  to  be  wide  apart."  ^  Nor  is  virtue  to  be 
found  in  deserting  the  common  life  and  going  out  into  the 
mlderness  to  seek  for  occasions  on  which  to  manifest  one's 
superiority.  "  The  path  is  not  far  from  man.  When  men  trj'^ 
to  pursue  a  course  which  is  not  far  from  the  common  indications 
of  conscience,  this  course  cannot  be  considered  The  Path."  ^ 
But  instruction  is  often  essential.  Knowledge  of  duties  may  be 
inborn,  acquired  by  study,  or  after  a  painful  feehng  of  ignorance. 
They  may  come  with  natural  ease,  from  a  desire  for  their  advan- 
tages, or  by  strenuous  effort.'  The  only  distinctions  which  the 
teacher  claims  for  himself  are,  first,  that  his  efforts  towards  per- 
fect virtue,  though  never  successful,  are  constant  and  unceasing- 
the  Master  does  not  rank  himself  with  the  sage  and  the  man  of 
perfect  virtue,  but  strives  without  satiety  to  become  such  ^- 
secondly,  that  he  passes  his  life  in  learning.  "  In  a  hamlet  oi 
ten  families  there  may  be  found  one  honourable  and  sincere 

1  Analects,  Book  XIV.  chap,  xxxviii.  ^  ib..  Book  XIV.  chap.  xxxJ 

^  ib..  Book  IV.  chap.  xv.  *  ib..  Book  VI.  chap.  xvii. 

s  ib..  Book  XVII.  chap.  ii. 

®  Doctrine  of  the  Mean,  chap.  xiii.  sec.  1. 

'  ib.,  chap.  XX.  sec.  9. 

•  Analects,  Book  VII.  chap,  xxxii.  and  xxxiii. 


ETHICAL  IDEALISM  531 

as  I  am,  but  not  so  fond  of  learning."  ^  That  is  to  say,  the 
fundamental  moral  qualities  are  widely  diffused,  but  not  the 
intellectual  attainments  which  direct  them.  On  the  other  hand, 
mere  customary  moraUty  is  sweepingly  condemned,  and  here 
breathes  the  true  spirit  of  ethical  idealism.  "  Your  good,  careful 
people  of  the  villages  are  the  thieves  of  virtue  "  ^ — a  text  which 
is  ably  commented  upon  by  the  greatest  of  Confucians — 

"  Wan  Chang  said,  '  Their  whole  village  styles  those  men 
good  and  careful.  In  all  their  conduct  they  are  so.  How  was 
it  that  Confucius  considered  them  the  thieves  of  virtue  ?  ' 

"  Mencius  replied,  '  If  you  would  blame  them,  you  find  nothing 
to  allege.  If  you  would  criticize  them,  you  have  nothing  to 
criticize.  They  agree  with  the  current  customs.  They  consent 
with  an  impure  age.  Their  principles  have  a  semblance  of 
right-heartedness  and  truth.  Their  conduct  has  a  semblance  of 
disinterestedness  and  purity.  All  men  are  pleased  with  them, 
and  they  think  themselves  right,  so  that  it  is  impossible  to 
proceed  with  them  to  the  principles  of  Yaou  and  Shun.  On 
this  account  they  are  called  "  The  thieves  of  virtue."  ' 

"  Confucius  said,  '  I  hate  a  semblance  which  is  not  the  reality. 
I  hate  the  darnel,  lest  it  be  confounded  with  the  corn.  I  hate 
glib-tonguedness,  lest  it  be  confounded  with  righteousness.  I 
hate  sharpness  of  tongue,  lest  it  be  confounded  with  sincerity. 
I  hate  the  music  of  Ch'ing,  lest  it  be  confounded  with  the  true 
music.  I  hate  the  reddish-blue,  lest  it  be  confounded  with  ver- 
milion. I  hate  your  good,  careful  men  of  the  villages,  lest  they 
be  confounded  with  the  truly  virtuous.'  "  ^ 

The  basis  of  morals,  then,  is  the  intrinsic  desirability  of  a 
great  ideal  which  accords  with  the  true  principles  of  man's 
nature  when  brought  to  their  due  development  by  proper 
education.  To  such  an  ideal  man  must  hold  fast  in  spite  of 
all  that  fortune  or  his  fellow-men  can  do  to  him,  and  that 
will  be  best  for  him  in  that  he  so  remains  lord  of  himself.  In 
so  doing  he  keeps  the  appointment  of  heaven,  yet  his  reward 
is  nothing  external  to  the  act  itself,  but  consists  merely  in  the 
high  desirability  of  the  life  lived  in  accordance  with  the  best 
principles  that  are  in  one. 

3.  In  what  outward  conduct  does  this  ideal  show  itself  ? 
Generally  speaking,  in  the  conduct  of  the  good  citizen,  the  dutiful 
son,  the  kindly  neighbour  and,  in  particular,  the  upright  official 
who  would  resist  to  the  death  the  corrupt  tyrant.     Uprightness 

^  Analects,  Book  V.  chap,  xxvii.  *  ib..  Book  XVII.  chap.  xiii. 

'  Mencius,  Book  VII.  part  ii.  chap,  xxxvii.  sees.  10,  11,  12. 


532  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

and  benevolence  arc  the  two  master-words.  Confucius  accepted 
and  re-con^stituted  the  traditional  standard  of  Chinese  etliics 
with  its  closely  hnked  family  ties  and  its  patriarchal  relations 
of  ruler  and  subject.  He  calls  liimself  a  transmitter  and  not  a 
maker,  beheving  in  and  loving  the  Ancients.^  Hence  he  insists 
repeatedly  upon  a  conception  of  filial  devotion  which  to  the 
Western  mind  appears  exaggerated.  He  finds  the  standard  of 
conduct  frequently  in  those  rules  of  propriety  wliich  belong  to 
ancient  tradition,  and  prescribe  the  requisite  term  of  mourning 
for  the  cult  of  the  dead,  the  due  order  of  precedence  among 
relations,  a  ceremonial  etiquette  as  between  the  prince  and  his 
officers,  and  so  forth.  In  the  Book  of  Rites  he  is,  generally 
speaking,  moderate  and  reasonable  in  his  interpretation  of 
customary  rules ;  ^  but,  considering  the  incubus  which  the  cult 
of  the  dead  has  imposed  upon  industrial  hfe  in  Cliina,  it  is  to  be 
regretted  that  he  did  not  apply  himself  more  resolutely  to 
inquiring  into  the  grounds  of  custom,  and  teacliing  men  that  its 
authority  rests  only  upon  its  value  in  the  social  life  of  manldnd. 
He  is  very  clear  that  the  requirements  of  virtue  are  not  satisfied 
by  mere  outward  conformity.  In  mourning,  for  instance,  the 
feehng  of  grief  was  a  far  more  essential  matter  than  the  form  in 
which  it  was  expressed,^  and  again,  outward  conformity  to  law 
may  be  secured  by  punishment,  but  this  is  not  a  moral  education 
of  the  people,  but,  on  the  contrary,  a  corrupt  influence.  "  If 
the  people  be  led  by  laws  and  uniformity  sought  to  be  giveij 
them  by  punishments,  they  will  try  to  avoid  the  punishment 
but  have  no  sense  of  shame ;  if  they  be  led  by  virtue,  and  uni- 
formity sought  to  be  given  them  by  the  rules  of  propriety,  they 
will  have  the  sense  of  shame,  and  moreover  wall  become  good."'  ^ 
Confucius,  therefore,  held  by  tradition,  and  advanced  no 
reasoned  theory  of  the  rules  of  conduct.  Yet  certain  funda- 
mentals appear.  Virtue  must  come  from  the  good  wiU.  While 
the  "  rules  of  propriety  "  generally  supply  the  detail,  the  broad 
principles  of  conduct  are  those  which  follow  from  the  conception 
of  oneself  as  the  servant  of  mankind,  and  of  social  happiness  as 
the  supreme  end  of  endeavour  for  the  individual.  For  example, 
we  are  told  that  Tsze-ch'an  had  four  of  the  characteristics  of 
the  superior  man;  "in  his  conduct  of  himself  he  was  humble, 
in  serving  his  superiors  he  was  respectful,  in  nourishing  the 
people  he  was  kind,  in  ordering  the  people  he  was  just."  ^  Again, 
perfect  virtue  is  "  when  you  go  abroad  to  behave  to  every  one 

*  Analects,  Book  VII.  chap.  i.  ^  De  Groot,  ii.  662,  etc. 
■  Analects,  Book  III.  chap.  iv.                     *  ib..  Book  II.  chap.  iii. 

*  ib..  Book  V.  chap.  xv. 


ETHICAL  IDEALISM  533 

as  if  you  were  receiving  a  great  guest ;  to  employ  the  people  as 
if  you  were  assisting  at  a  great  sacrifice ;  not  to  do  to  others 
as  you  would  not  msh  done  to  yourself ;  to  have  no  murmuring 
against  you  in  the  country  and  none  in  the  family."  ^  The 
virtues  of  the  sage  are  acquired  for  the  happiness  of  the  world 
at  large.  "  Tsze-loo  asked  what  constituted  the  superior  man." 
The  Master  said,  "  The  cultivation  of  himself  in  reverential 
carefulness."  "  And  is  this  all  ?  "  said  Tsze-loo.  "  He  culti- 
vates himself  so  as  to  give  rest  to  others."  ..."  Is  this  aU  ?  " 
asked  Tsze-loo.  The  Master  said,  "  He  cultivates  himself  so  as 
to  give  rest  to  aU  the  people."  ^  In  the  practice  of  benevolence 
the  family  relations  come  first.  Benevolence  is  the  character- 
istic element  of  humanity  and  the  great  exercise  of  it  is  in  loving 
relations.  Righteousness  is  the  acting  in  accordance  with  what 
is  right  and  the  great  exercise  of  it  is  in  honouring  the  worth3\ 
The  decreasing  measures  of  the  love  due  to  relatives  and  the 
steps  in  the  honour  due  to  the  worthy  are  produced  by  the 
principles  of  propriety.^  Indeed,  Confucius's  simple  and  some- 
what elementary  pohtical  philosophy  rests  on  his  conception  of 
the  family  as  the  type  and  exemplar  of  the  state.  "  There  is 
fihal  piety,  therewith  the  sovereign  should  be  served;  there  is 
fraternal  submission,  therewith  the  elders  and  superiors  should 
be  served  ;  there  is  kindness,  therewith  the  multitude  should  be 
treated."  *  Thus,  the  Confucian  rule  of  benevolence  is  not  a 
mere  abstract  principle,  but  one  regulated  in  its  apphcation  by 
well-understood  duties  depending  on  a  man's  position  in  his 
family  or  in  the  state.  It  is  moreover  always  conceived  in  close 
cormection  with  justice.  The  "golden  rule  "  to  treat  others  as 
we  would  have  them  treat  us,  which  Confucius  was  the  first  to 
formulate,  is  as  much  a  matter  of  justice  as  of  benevolence.  It 
is  a  rule  of  impartiahty  as  between  self  and  others.  Tsze-kung 
asked,  "  Is  there  one  word  which  may  serve  as  a  rule  of  practice 
for  all  one's  life  ?  "  The  Master  said,  "  Is  not  reciprocity  such 
a  word  ?  Wliat  you  do  not  want  done  to  yourself  do  not  do  to 
others."  ^  Benevolence,  indeed,  should  be  universal,^  but  there 
must  be  a  rule  of  justice  in  appljing  it.  We  should  forgive 
injuries,  but  we  should  not  push  that  principle  to  the  point  of 
treating  the  evil  and  the  good  ahke.  The  philosopher  Lao  Tse 
had  urged  that  instead  of  returning  evil  for  evil  we  should 
recompense  evil  with  kindness.  Being  asked  what  he  thought 
of  tliis  principle,  the  Master  said,  "  With  what,  then,  ^ill  you 

1  Analects,  Book  XII.  chap.  ii.  ^  ih..    Book  XIV.  chap.  xlv. 

'  Doctrine  of  the  Mean,  chap.  xx.  sec.  6.        *  The  Great  Learning,  chap.  ix. 
*  Analects,  Book  XV.  chap,  xxiii.  "  ib..  Book  XII.  claap.  xxii. 


634  MORALS   IN  EVOLUTION 

recompense  kindness  ?  Recompense  injur}-  with  justice  and 
recompense  kindness  Avith  kindness."  ^  But  this  is  not  to  be 
taken  as  justifying  vengeance.  "  To  show  forbearance  and 
gentleness  in  teaching  others  and  not  to  revenge  unreasonable 
conduct,  this  is  the  forcefulness  of  Southern  regions  and  the 
good  man  makes  it  his  study."  ^ 

Such  then,  in  brief,  is  the  code  of  private  Hfe.  To  Uve  in 
^the  service  of  mankind,  to  respect  parents  and  superiors,  to  be 
kind  and  helpful  to  those  in  need,  to  have  no  enemies,  to  for- 
bear with  the  oflEender  and  forgive  liim  within  the  hmits  of 
justice,  to  be  prepared  to  love  all  men,  to  hate  only  those  who 
slander  others  and  thrust  themselves  forward  against  all  social 
tradition, 2  to  serve  a  good  ruler  but  withstand  him  to  his  face 
if  he  is  bad,  to  undergo  privation  and,  if  necessary,  death  for  a 
moral  principle,  to  be  grieved  and  feel  pity  for  the  criminal 
instead  of  triumphing  over  him,*  not  to  withdraw  from  the 
world,  to  reahze  that  man's  life  is  to  be  lived  in  the  midst  of 
humanity  whatever  the  difficulties  and  drawbacks  may  be,  and 
in  all  these  things  to  recognize  that  the  beginning  and  the  end 
is  sincerity  ^ — such  is  the  ideal  of  personal  conduct  that  Confucius 
taught  to  Cliina. 

The  ideal  of  pubhc  conduct  is  like  unto  it.  In  fact,  through- 
out Confucius  is  talking  with  officials,  addressing  men  who  hold 
office  and  who  are  concerned  A\ith  the  problems  of  conscience 
arising  in  connection  ■with  the  tenure  of  office,  with  the  duties 
of  the  king  and  the  relation  of  king  and  officer.  Throughout 
he  insists  upon  the  duty  of  prince  to  people.  The  relationship 
should  be  that  of  father  to  cliildren.  The  first  duty  of  the 
prince  is  to  order  his  own  conduct  aright,  and  to  show  in  his 
o\vn  household  those  principles  of  family  life  upon  wliich  the 
structure  of  Chinese  society  was  held  to  depend ;  from  his 
example  outwards  the  influence  would  radiate.  Wlien  Ke-K'ang 
asked  about  government  Confucius  replied,  "To  govern  means 
to  rectify.  If  you  lead  on  the  people  with  correctness  who  will 
dare  not  to  be  correct  ?  "  ^  And  when  Ke-K'ang  was  distressed 
by  the  number  of  thieves,  Confucius  rephed  with  much  direct- 
ness, "  If  3^ou,  Sir,  were  not  covetous,  although  you  should 
reward  them  to  do  it  they  would  not  steal."  '  The  people  are 
by  nature  disposed  to  virtue ;  they  break  out  into  mutiny  only 
in  times  of  distress.     The  dut}^  of  the  prince  is  to  keep  down 

*  Analects,  Book  XIV.  chap,  xxxvi.  °  Doctrine  of  the  Mean,  chap.  x. 
'  Analects,  Book  XVII.  cliap.  xxiv.  *  ib.,  Book  XIX.  chap.  xix. 

*  Doctrine  of  the  Mean,  chap.  xxv. 

'  Analects,  JBook  XII.  chap.  xvii.  '  ib.,  Book  XII.  chap,  xviii. 


ETHICAL  IDEALISM  535 

taxation,  avoid  harsh  punishments  and  excessive  forced  labour.^ 
When  the  people  are  numerous  what  next  is  to  be  done  for 
them  ?  The  answer  is,  "  Enrich  them."  "  And  when  they  have 
been  enriched?"  "Teach  them."^  The  virtuous  and  wise 
prince  is  able  to  dispense  with  punishment.  "  Sir,  in  carrying 
on  your  government  why  should  you  use  killing  at  all  ?  Let 
your  evinced  desires  be  for  what  is  good  and  the  people  will  be 
good.  .  .  .  The  grass  must  bend  when  the  wind  blows  over  it."  ^ 
A  succession  of  good  governors  lasting  over  a  century  would  be 
able  to  transform  the  violently  bad  and  dispense  with  capital 
punishment.*  In  accordance  with  the  doctrine  of  universal 
benevolence  the  people  are  the  first  object  in  the  state.  The 
king  is  their  servant,  and  that  sovereign  is  most  praised  who 
takes  upon  himself  the  sins  of  the  people  and  is  responsible  for 
them  to  heaven .5  We  have  here,  in  short,  a  theory  of  conduct 
which  is  at  the  same  time  a  theory  of  society,  elementary  no 
doubt,  especially  in  its  political  aspect,  yet  the  foundation 
of  that  cultivated  class  wliich  has  for  two  thousand  years 
governed  China  and  kept  Chinese  civilization  erect  through  all 
its  vicissitudes. 

4.  The  teaching  of  Confucius  was  further  developed  by  the 
greatest  disciple  of  his  school,  the  philosopher  Mencius  (371- 
288  B.C.).  Mencius  made  no  entirely  new  departure,  but  put 
the  moral  theory  of  Confucius  in  a  more  systematic  form,  stated 
many  of  the  Master's  fundamental  positions  with  a  vigour  and 
incisiveness  that  w^ere  entirely  his  own,  and  laid  special  stress 
on  certain  sides  of  political  morality,  such  as  the  inherent  wicked- 
ness of  militarism,  and  the  right  of  rebellion  against  a  vicious 
sovereign.  With  him  again  virtue  is  the  supreme  end  of  life. 
Perfect  uprightness  alone  casteth  out  fear.  He  attributes  to 
"the  Master  "  a  saying,  "  If  on  self-examination  I  find  that  I 
am  not  upright,  shall  I  not  be  in  fear  even  of  a  poor  man  in 
his  loose  garments  of  hair-cloth  ?  If  on  self-examination  I  find 
that  I  am  upright,  I  will  go  forward  against  thousands  and  tens 
of  thousands."  ^  He  who  knows  his  own  nature,  knows  heaven, 
and  "to  preserve  one's  mental  constitution  and  nourish  one's 
nature  is  the  way  to  serve  Heaven."  '  Heaven  has  its  appoint- 
ments which  we  should  accept  instinctively,  but  this  is  not  to 
lead  us  into  fatalism. 

1  Cf.  Doctrine  of  the  Mean,  chap.  xx.  14.       ^  Analects,  Book  XIII.  chap.  ix. 

^   ib.y  Book  XII.  chap.  xix.  *  ib.,  Book  XIII.  chap.  xi. 

'  lb..  Book  XX.  chap.  i.  sec.  3. 

*  Mencius,  Book  II.  part  i.  chap.  ii.  sec.  7. 

'  ib.,  Book  VII.  part  i.  chap,  i 


636  MORALS  IN    EVOLUTION 

"  He  who  has  the  true  idea  of  what  is  heaven's  appointment 
will  not  stand  beneath  a  precipitous  wall. 

"  Death  sustained  in  the  discharge  of  one's  duties  may  correctly 
be  ascribed  to  the  appointment  of  heaven. 

"  Death  under  handcuffs  and  fetters  cannot  correctly  be  so 
ascribed."  ^ 

The  other  elements  of  happiness  depend  on  virtue.  Being 
asked  by  King  Hwuy  whether  wise  and  good  princes  find  pleasure 
in  geese  and  deer,  Mencius  replied,  "  Being  wise  and  good  they 
have  pleasure  in  these  things.  If  they  are  not  Avise  and  good, 
though  they  have  these  things,  they  do  not  find  pleasure."  ^ 

"  To  dwell  in  the  wide  house  of  the  world,  to  stand  in  the 
correct  seat  of  the  world,  and  to  walk  in  the  great  path  of  the 
world;  when  he  obtains  his  desire  for  office,  to  practise  his 
principles  for  the  good  of  the  people;  and  when  that  desire  is 
disappointed,  to  practise  them  alone ;  to  be  above  the  power  of 
riches  and  honours  to  make  dissipated,  of  poverty  and  mean 
condition  to  make  swerve  from  principle,  and  of  power  and  force 
to  make  bend,"  ^  such  in  a  few  words  are  the  life  and  character 
of  the  great  man.  His  principles  allow  of  no  compromise. 
"  Never  has  a  man  who  has  bent  himself  been  able  to  make 
others  straight."  - 

5.  Man  must  be  lord  of  himself.  But  in  the  pursuit  of  virtue 
he  is  doing  no  violence  to  himself.  He  is  merely  fulfilhng, 
bringing  to  the  perfection  of  development  the  seeds  of  good 
implanted  in  him  by  nature.  Here  the  teaching  of  Mencius  is 
more  distinct  than  that  of  his  master,  and  contains  the  germs 
of  a  scientific  theory  of  moral  psychology.  The  foundation  of 
virtue  is  in  the  "  passion-nature  "  which  occupies  a  position  in 
the  soul  somewhat  analogous  to  that  of  the  ^u/xoeiSe?  in  Plato's 
scheme.  The  "  passion-nature  "  needs  guidance  and  its  natural 
leader  is  the  will,^  directed  as  we  collect  from  other  passages  by 
education  and  the  "  rules  of  propriety."  But  this  wall  must 
lead  and  not  force,  just  as  the  ruler  should  not  subdue  men  by 
violence  but  win  their  hearts  by  virtue.  Or,  in  a  different 
metaphor,  the  "  passion-nature  "  must  be  weeded,  not  pulled 
up.^  For  the  feelings  are  the  foundation  of  the  virtues.  "  The 
feeling  of  commiseration  is  the  principle  of  benevolence.  The 
feehng  of  shame  and  dislike  is  the  principle  of  righteousness. 
The  feehng  of  modesty  and  complaisance  is  the  principle  of 

1  Mencius,  Book  VII.  part  i.  chap.  ii. 

2  ib..  Book  I.  part  i.  chap.  ii.  sec.  2. 

"  ib..  Book  III.  part  ii.  chap.  2.  sec.  3. 
*  ib..  Book  III.  part  ii.  chap.  i.  sec.  5. 
^  ib..  Book  II.  pax't  i.  chap.  ii.         ®  ib..  Book  II.  parti,  chap.  ii.  sec.  16. 


ETHICAL  IDEALISM  537 

propriety.  The  feeling  of  approving  and  disapproving  is  the 
principle  of  knowledge.  Men  have  these  four  principles  as  they 
have  their  four  limbs,"  and  those  who  say  they  cannot  develop 
them  play  the  thief  with  themselves.^  "  All  men  have  a  mind 
which  cannot  bear  to  see  the  sufferings  of  others."  ^  "  Even 
nowadays,"  if  we  saw  a  child  about  to  fall  into  a  well,  we  should 
experience  alarm  and  distress,  not  from  any  desire  for  the  favour 
of  its  parents,  nor  from  any  love  of  praise,  but  because  com- 
miseration is  essential  to  man.^  Onjy  as  we  saw  above  *  in  the 
story  of  King  Seuen,  it  is  the  misery  that  we  see  that  affects  us, 
and  our  imaginations  are  not  vivid  enough  to  make  us  feel  the 
pain  that  we  do  not  see.  What  is  needed  is  development  of  the 
good  material  that  is  in  man.  Let  the  four  principles  "  have 
their  complete  development  and  they  will  suffice  to  love  and 
protect  all  within  the  four  seas.  Let  them  be  denied  that 
development  and  they  will  not  suffice  for  a  man  to  serve  his 
parents  with."  ^  These  principles  are  not  infused  into  us  from 
without.  "  Seek  and  you  will  find  them.  Neglect  and  you 
will  lose  them."  ^     But   men   differ   much   in   the   cultivation 

^  Mencius,  Book  II.  part  i.  chap.  vi.         ^  ib..  Book  II.  part  i.  chap.  vi. 

^  Loc.  cit.  *  Part  I.  chap.  vi. 

^  Book  II.  part  i.  chap.  ii.  Elsewhere  (Book  VI.  part  i.  chap,  i.)  a 
dialogue  occurs  between  Mencius  and  Kaou,  which  Kaou  begins  by  suggest- 
ing that  righteousness  is  to  man's  nature  as  a  cup  to  willow  wood.  Mencius 
objects  that  this  implies  that  violence  must  be  done  to  humanity  to  convert 
it  to  righteousness.  Kaou  then  compares  hiunan  nature  to  water,  which 
flows  east  or  west  according  as  a  channel  is  opened  for  it.  Mencius  replies 
that  "  the  tendency  of  man's  nature  to  good  is  like  the  tendency  of  water 
to  flow  downwards."  Kaou  then  draws  a  distinction  between  Righteous- 
ness as  external  and  Benevolence  as  internal.  I  honour  an  old  man  not 
because  there  is  a  principle  of  reverence  in  men,  but  just  as  when  I  see  a 
white  man  I  consider  him  white.  Kaou  is  here  taking  up  a  position  some- 
what analogous  to  that  of  the  "  moral  sense  "  school.  Mencius's  reply  is 
to  the  effect  that  whiteness  is  a  quality  common  to  a  man  and  a  horse.  We 
do  not  honour  an  aged  horse  ;  nor  is  there  any  righteousness  in  the  age  of  a 
man,  but  in  our  honouring  it  (i.  e.  righteousness  is  not  a  perceptible  quality 
of  things,  but  lies  in  a  relation  of  ourselves  to  other  persons).  Kaou  then 
says  that  he  loves  his  younger  brother,  but  not  the  younger  brother  of  a 
man  of  Tsin — the  feeling  is  therefore  determined  by  himself,  internal 
(subjective).  On  the  other  hand,  he  honours  an  old  man  whether  of  his 
own  people  or  of  Ts'oo.  Therefore  this  (a  point  of  righteousness)  is  external. 
Mencius  replies  that  we  enjoy  roast  meat,  whether  roasted  by  ourselves  or 
men  of  Tsin.  Would  Kaou  say  that  our  enjoyment  of  roast  meat  is 
external  ?  The  discussion  is  as  interesting  as  the  examples  are  quaint. 
Kaou  is  contending  for  the  objectivity  of  the  moral  standard  as  contrasted 
with  the  subjective  variations  of  good  feeling ;  Mencius  for  the  subjectivity 
of  all  morals,  in  the  sense  that  they  proceed  from  and  rest  on  human  nature. 
The  solution  is  perhaps  to  be  foimd  in  the  Kantian  distinction  between 
subjective  as  =  the  necessary  laws  of  a  subject,  i.  e.  of  a  rational  being, 
and  as  =  the  individual  variations  which  make  up  a  man's  idiosyncrasies. 

®  jMeucius,  Book  VI.  part  i.  chap.  vi.  sec.  7. 


538  MORALS  IN   EVOLUTION 

of  them,  and  what  is  needed  is  to  work  on  the  basis  of  good 
which  exists  in  all  and  extend  it  ^  so  as  to  cover  the  whole  of 
life  and  acliieve  that  universal  benevolence  which  is  "  the  most 
honourable  dignity  conferred  by  Heaven."  ^ 

Benevolence  and  righteousness  are  the  leading  notes  of  the 
character  that  is  fully  developed.  Not  indeed  that  benevolence 
should  be  equally  apportioned  to  all  men.  Natural  ties  have 
their  place.  The  philosopher  Mih  taught  that  we  should  love 
all  equally,  which  is  contrary  to  fiUal  duty,  but  "  To  acknow- 
ledge neither  king  nor  father  is  to  be  in  the  state  of  a  beast."  ^ 

1  "All  men  have  some  things  which  they  cannot  bear;  extend  that 
feeling  to  what  they  can  bear,  and  benevolence  will  be  the  result.  All  men 
have  some  things  which  they  will  not  do ;  extend  that  feeling  to  the  things 
which  they  do,  and  righteovisness  will  be  the  result. 

"  If  a  man  can  give  full  development  to  the  feeling  which  makes  him 
shrink  from  injuring  others,  his  benevolence  will  be  more  than  can  be 
called  into  practice.  If  ho  can  give  full  development  to  the  feeling  which 
refuses  to  break  through  or  jump  over  a  wall,  his  righteousness  will  be 
more  than  can  be  called  into  practice. 

"  If  he  can  give  full  development  to  the  real  feeling  of  dislike  with  which 
he  receives  the  salutation,  '  Thou,'  '  Thou,'  he  will  act  righteously  in  all 
places  and  circumstances"  (Book  VII.  part  ii.  chap.  31,  sees.  1-3). 

In  more  modern  phrase,  one  might  say  that  every  man  "  has  his  code." 
In  that  code  lie  concealed  impulses  which,  adequately  developed,  would 
furnish  a  perfect  character.  By  it  are  inferred  principles  which,  consistently 
carried  out,  would  suffice  for  a  saint.  Thieves'  honour  recognizes  a  prin- 
ciple which  the  thief  applies  only  to  his  fellow-thieves.  If  he  applies  it 
without  any  svich  arbitrary  restrictions,  he  must  become  an  honest  man. 

2  Book  II.  part  i.  chap.  vii.  sec.  2. 

'  Mencius,  Book  III.  part  ii.  chap.  ix.  sec.  9.  Mih's  expression  of  the 
doctrine  of  universal  benevolence  was  of  the  most  sweeping  kind.  "  It  is 
this  principle  of  making  distinctions  between  man  and  man  which  gives 
rise  to  all  that  is  most  injurious  in  the  empire  "  (Legge,  ii.,  Prolegomena, 
p.  111).  Mih  seeks  to  turn  the  objection  that  the  doctrine  is  contrary  to 
filial  piety  by  urging  that  by  loving  and  serving  others  a  man  will  obtain 
their  love  and  benefits  for  his  parents  (/6.,  pp.  105-119).  Mih's  practical 
polemic  was  directed  against  the  excessive  burden  thrown  on  Chinese  life 
by  the  laws  of  mourning,  and  the  classical  philosophy,  as  De  Groot's  account 
clearly  shows,  erred  by  adhering  too  closely  to  the  traditional  observance. 

Mencius  follows  closely  the  typical  Chinese  view  in  the  extension  of  the 
principle  of  filial  piety  to  cover  all  forms  of  wrong-doing  that  might 
indirectly  injure  parents,  and  in  exalting  it  to  the  disparagement  of 
duties  to  wife  and  child.  Thus  he  enumerates  five  common  things  which 
are  unfilial.  1.  Laziness.  2.  Gambling,  chess-playing  and  wine-bibbing. 
3.  Love  of  money  and  selfish  attachment  to  wife  and  child — these  three 
when  followed  to  the  point  of  neglect  of  parents.  4.  Following  the  desire 
of  eyes  and  ears  so  as  to  bring  parents  into  disgrace.  5.  Being  fond  of 
bravery,  fighting  and  quarrelling  so  as  to  endanger  parents  (Book  IV. 
part  ii.  chap.  xxx.).  He  holds  up  for  imitation  the  example  of  Chang,  who, 
because  his  father  was  offended,  sent  awaj'  his  wife  and  child,  and  all  his 
life  received  no  cherishing  attention  fi-om  them  (ib.,  sec.  5).  There  is,  of 
course,  another  point  of  view — that  of  Chang's  wife  and  child  and  the 
attention  that  they  might  expect.  The  Western  world  puts  them  first, 
the  Cliinese  second  longo  intervallo. 


ETHICAL  IDEALISM  639 

Human  excellence  lies  in  the  performance  of  the  social  duties. 
The  life  of  the  hermit  is  like  that  of  an  earth-worm.^  The  sage 
learns  humbly  from  others.  "  When  any  one  told  Tsze-loo  that 
he  had  a  fault,  he  rejoiced,"  and  Shun  "  regarded  virtue  as  the 
common  property  of  himself  and  others,  giving  up  his  own  way 
to  follow  that  of  others,  and  delighting  to  learn  from  others  to 
practice  what  was  good."  ^  Though  it  is  the  duty  of  the  sage  to 
teach  as  well  as  learn,  yet  there  is  a  pitfall  here.  "  The  evil  of 
men  is  that  they  like  to  be  teachers  of  others."  ^  As  to  the 
conventions,  Mencius  holds  by  the  "  rules  of  propriety,"  but 
sometimes  not  without  symptoms  of  impatience.  A  stickler  for 
strict  rule  would  not  a  touch  a  woman's  hand  even  to  save  her 
from  drowning.  Such  a  man,  says  Mencius  curtly,  is  a  "  wolf."  ^ 
The  intrinsic  importance  of  the  rule  must  be  taken  into  account, 
and  also  the  urgency  of  the  motive  for  casting  it  aside .^  Had 
this  principle  been  developed,  it  would  have  broken  the  crust 
of  Chinese  formalism  and  opened  the  way  for  a  richness  of 
spiritual  growth  which,  crusted  over  by  tradition  as  it  has  been 
from  the  first,  Confucianism  has  never  brought  forth, 

6.  But  it  is  in  its  political  apphcations  that  the  ethical  teach- 
ing of  Mencius  is  most  thoroughgoing.  Here  the  principles  of 
justice  and  benevolence  require  that  the  welfare  of  the  people 
should  be  the  first  consideration  of  government.  "The  people 
are  the  most  important  element  in  a  nation,  the  spirits  of  the 
land  and  grain  are  the  next,  the  sovereign  is  the  lightest."  ®  The 
people's  will  practically  expressed  in  unanimous  support  of, 
or  aversion  to,  a  ruler  is  of  divine  authority.  "  Heaven  sees 
according  as  my  people  see  :  Heaven  hears  according  as  my 
people  hear." '  The  king  must  care  for  their  prosperity.  He 
should  refrain  from  interfering  with  husbandry,  spare  the 
growing  trees  and  the  young  fish,  plant  mulberry-trees  about 
the  homesteads  and  inculcate  filial  and  paternal  duties  in  the 
schools.  A  ruler  so  governing  his  state  would  certainly  become 
emperor.     Instead  of  this  he  says  severely  to  a  prince — 

"  Your  dogs  and  swine  eat  the  food  of  men,  and  you  do  not 
know  to  make  any  restrictive  arrangements.  There  are  people 
dying  from  famine  on  the  roads,  and  you  do  not  know  to  issue  the 
stores  of  j^our  granaries  for  them.  When  people  die,  you  say, 
'  It  is  not  owing  to  me ;   it  is  owing  to  the  year.'     In  what  does 

^  Book  III.  part  ii.  chap.  x.  '^  Book  II.  part  i.  chap.  viii. 

*  Book  IV.  part  i.  chap,  xxiii. 

*  ib.,  chap.  xvii.     Cf.  Douglas,  Society  in  China,  p.  189. 

*  Book  VI.  part  ii.  chap.  i.  *  Mencius,  Book  VII.  part  ii.  chap.  xiv. 
'  Book  V.  jjj.rt  i.  chap.  v.  see.  8. 


540  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

this  differ  from  stabbing  a  man  and  killing  him,  and  then  saying, 
'  It  was  not  I ;  it  was  the  weapon  '  ?  Let  your  Majesty  cease  to 
lay  the  blame  on  the  year,  and  instantly  from  all  the  empire  the 
people  will  come  to  yon.  .  .  . 

"  In  your  kitchen  there  is  fat  meat ;  in  your  stables  there  are 
fat  horses.  But  your  people  have  the  look  of  hunger,  and  on  the 
wilds  there  are  those  who  have  died  of  famine.  This  is  leading 
on  beasts  to  devour  men."  ^ 

Lighter  taxation,  care  for  the  poor  and  childless,  the  punish- 
ment of  corrupt  officials,  moderation  in  punishments  avoiding 
the  principle  of  collective  responsibility,  attention  to  works  of 
public  necessity,  and,  above  all,  aversion  to  warfare,  were  the 
marks  of  the  good  ruler.     In  the  good  old  days  of  King  Wan — 

"  The  husbandmen  cultivated  for  the  government  one-ninth  of 
the  land ;  the  descendants  of  officers  were  salaried ;  at  the  passes 
and  in  the  markets  strangers  were  inspected,  but  goods  were  not 
taxed ;  there  v/ere  no  prohibitions  respecting  the  ponds  and  weirs ; 
the  wives  and  children  of  criminals  were  not  involved  in  their 
guilt.  There  were  the  old  and  wifeless,  or  widowers;  the  old 
and  husbandless,  or  widows ;  the  old  and  childless,  or  solitaries ; 
the  young  and  fatherless,  or  orphans — these  four  classes  are  the 
most  destitute  of  the  people,  and  have  none  to  whom  they  can 
tell  their  wants,  and  King  Wan,  in  the  institution  of  his  govern- 
ment with  its  benevolent  action,  made  them  the  first  objects  of 
his  regard."  ^ 

1  Book  I.  part  i.  chap.  iii.  sec.  5 ;   chap.  iv.  sec.  4. 

2  Mencius,  Book  I.  part  ii.  chap.  v.  sec.  3.  The  whole  theory  of  govern- 
ment is  somewhat  more  fully  stated  in  Book  VI.  part  ii.  chap.  vii.  :  "  The 
five  chiefs  of  the  princes  were  sinners  against  the  three  kings.  The  princes 
of  the  present  day  are  sinners  against  the  five  chiefs.  The  great  officers 
of  the  present  day  are  sinners  against  the  princes." 

"  The  emperor  visited  the  princes,  which  was  called  '  A  tour  of  inspection.' 
The  princes  attended  at  the  court  of  the  emperor,  which  was  called  '  Giving 
a  report  of  office.'  It  was  a  custom  in  the  spring  to  examine  the  ploughing, 
and  supply  any  deficiency  of  seed,  and  in  autmnn  to  examine  the  reaping, 
and  assist  where  there  was  a  deficiency  of  the  crop.  When  the  emperor 
entered  the  boundaries  of  a  state,  if  the  new  ground  was  being  reclaimed 
and  the  old  fields  well  cultivated ;  if  the  old  were  nourished  and  the  worthy 
honoured ;  and  if  men  of  distinguished  talents  were  placed  in  office  :  then 
the  prince  was  rewarded — rewarded  with  an  addition  to  his  territory.  On 
the  other  hand,  if,  on  entering  a  state,  the  ground  was  found  left  wild  or 
overrun  with  weeds  ;  if  the  old  were  neglected  and  the  worthy  unhonoured ; 
and  if  the  offices  were  filled  with  hard  tax-gatherers  :  then  the  prince  was 
reprimanded.  If  a  prince  once  omitted  his  attendance  at  court,  he  was 
punished  by  degradation  of  rank ;  if  he  did  so  a  second  tune,  he  was  de- 
prived of  a  portion  of  his  territory ;  if  he  did  so  a  third  time,  the  imperial 
forces  were  set  in  motion,  and  he  was  removed  from  his  government.  Thus 
the  emperor  commanded  the  punishment,  but  did  not  himself  inflict  it, 
while  the  princes  inflicted  the  punishment,  but  did  not  command  it.     The 


ETHICAL  IDEALISM  641 

It  is  on  the  conditions  of  life  that  the  behaviour  of  the  people 
depends.  Human  beings  have  a  naturally  good  disposition,  but 
not  one  strong  enough  to  resist  the  trials  of  adverse  conditions, 
especially  when  these  are  due  to  unjust  laws.  Bad  governments 
goad  the  people  to  crime  and  then  punish  them.  "  This  is  to 
entrap  the  people."  ^  If  the  king  failed  in  his  duty  his  chief 
ministers  should  remonstrate  with  him,  and  if  repeated  remon- 
strance proved  fruitless,  they  should  dethrone  him.  So  Mencius 
told  King  Seuen  to  his  face.^  In  the  last  resort  the  minister 
should  put  the  king  to  death  .^  For  all  this  of  the  duties  of  the 
king  is  not  to  be  mere  exhortation  as  in  most  preaching  of  the 
kind.  It  was  meant  in  earnest,  and  behind  it  lies  the  sanction 
of  just  rebelhon. 

In  fact,  we  feel  throughout  that  Mencius's  sayings  are  the 
very  reverse  of  ordinary  moral  platitudes.  They  are  truths 
applicable  to  all  time,  but  not  empty,  as  such  truths  too  often 
are.  On  the  contrary,  they  have  a  sting  which  we  can  feel  even 
at  the  present  day,  or  ought  to  feel  if  we  do  not.  The  great 
Chinese  classical  writers,  in  fact,  laid  the  foundation  of  a  distinct 
ethical  and  social  ideal,  in  many  ways  analogous  to  the  best 
teaching  of  the  founders  of  spiritual  religions,  but  different  in 

five  chiefs,  however,  dragged  the  pi-inces  to  punish  other  princes,  and  hence 
I  say  that  they  were  sinners  against  the  three  kings. 

"  Of  the  five  chiefs  the  most  powerful  was  the  duke  Hwan.  At  the 
assembly  of  the  princes  in  K'wei-k'ew,  he  bound  the  victim  and  placed  the 
writing  upon  it,  but  did  not  slay  it  to  smear  their  mouths  with  the  blood. 
The  first  injunction  in  their  agreement  was :  '  Slay  the  unfilial ;  change 
not  the  son  who  ha,s  been  appointed  heir;  exalt  not  a  concubine  to  the 
rank  of  wife.'  The  second  was  :  '  Honour  the  worthy,  and  maintain  the 
talented,  to  give  distinction  to  the  virtuous.'  The  third  was  :  '  Respect 
the  old,  and  be  kind  to  the  young.  Be  not  forgetful  of  strangers  and 
travellers.'  The  fourth  was :  '  Let  not  offices  be  hereditary,  nor  let 
officers  be  pluralists.  In  the  selection  of  officers  let  the  object  be  to  get  the 
proper  men.  Let  not  a  ruler  take  it  on  himse}f  to  put  to  death  a  great 
officer.'  The  fifth  was  :  '  Follow  no  crooked  policy  in  making  embank- 
ments. Impose  no  restrictions  on  the  sale  of  grain.  Let  there  be  no 
promotions  without  first  announcing  them  to  the  emperor.'  It  was  then 
said,  '  All  we  who  have  united  in  this  agreement  shall  hereafter  maintain 
amicable  relations.'  The  princes  of  the  present  day  all  violate  these  five 
prohibitions,  and  therefore  I  say  that  the  princes  of  the  present  day  are 
sinners  against  the  five  chiefs." 

Note  the  relationship  of  the  emperor  to  the  princes,  a  feudal  relationship 
to  which  Mencius  seeks  to  give  an  ideal  ethical  form ;  the  supervision  by 
the  state  of  family  relationship ;  the  insistence  on  the  distinction  of  chief 
wife  and  concubine  ;   and  the  idea  of  puritj'  and  merit  in  official  life. 

1  Mencius,  Book  I.  part  i.  chap.  vii.  If  this  view  sounds  somewhat 
materialistic,  we  may  set  against  it  passages  like  Book  III.  part  i.  chap.  iv. 
If  men  "  are  well  fed,  warmly  clad,  and  comfortably  lodged,  without  being 
taught  at  the  same  time,  they  become  almost  like  the  beasts." 

2  Book  V.  part  ii.  chap.  ix.  *  Book  I.  part  ii.  chap.  viii. 


542  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

its  setting.  Chinese  religion  was  at  this  time  and  has  since 
remained,  except  in  so  far  as  influenced  by  Buddhism,  a  form 
of  animism,  distinguished  first  by  its  systematic  character — a 
multitude  of  spirits  dependent  on  those  of  Heaven  and  Earth 
respectively;  and  secondly,  by  the  remarkable  development  of 
ancestor  worship.  This  religion  offered  little  scope  for  ethical 
ideahsm  except  at  two  points — the  idealization  of  family  con- 
tinuity, and  the  supremacy  of  Heaven.  Of  both  these  points 
Chinese  ethical  writers  took  advantage  ;  of  the  first  to  re-enforce 
the  doctrine  of  filial  piety ;  of  the  second  to  insist  on  the  moral 
unity  of  the  empire.  But  in  the  main  their  concern  was  social 
salvation,  and  they  were  dehberately  working  out  an  ethical 
theory  to  contribute  to  that  end,  and  appealing  to  the  nature 
and  training  of  individuals  to  use  the  means  by  which  the  end 
was  to  be  reached.  Thus  the  psychological  basis  of  conduct  and 
the  conception  of  its  ultimate  end  are  not  those  of  Buddhism  or 
of  Monotheism.  For  example,  man  is  not  inherently  bad  and 
redeemed  from  evil  only  by  divine  grace.  In  himself  he  is 
potentially  good,  and  the  germs  of  goodness  in  him  only  need 
favourable  circumstances,  teaching,  and  effort  to  come  to  perfec- 
tion. But  they  are  developed,  not  to  the  greater  glory  of  God, 
but  to  the  maintenance  of  human  life,  that  all  along  the  rich 
valleys  with  their  million  homesteads  the  husbandman  may 
reap  the  harvest  he  has  sown  in  fields  unstained  by  blood,  that 
he  may  cherish  wife  and  child  and  be  nurtured  by  them  in  age, 
and  pass  duly  honoured  to  the  tomb ;  that  worthy  officers  be 
found  to  serve  just  and  benevolent  kings ;  that  wars  may  die 
away ;  that  crime  may  be  repressed,  not  by  punishment,  but  by 
the  example  of  virtue ;  in  a  word,  that  peaceful  industry  and 
happy  family  Hfe  undisturbed  by  civil  jars,  official  corruption, 
royal  avarice,  and  mihtary  ambition,  may  be  the  lot  of  one-third 
of  the  human  race.  Not  the  glory  of  God,  but  the  peace  of  man 
is  the  aim ;  not  good  fortune  here  nor  salvation  hereafter  is  the 
disciple's  reward,  but  merely  his  own  best  self  independent  of 
all  that  comes  —  righteousness  for  its  own  sake,  benevolence 
because  it  is  itself  the  best  gift  of  heaven.  Not  the  chaining  up 
of  human  nature,  but  its  full  and  harmonious  development  is  the 
object  of  ethical  training.  In  other  respects  the  ethical  and 
the  religious  ideals  of  character  are  more  remarkable  for  their 
correspondence  than  for  their  divergence.  The  modesty  of  the 
sage  is  not  perhaps  drawn  in  such  bold  lines  as  the  humihty  of 
the  saint.  Forbearance  and  forgiveness  are  upheld  as  better 
than  revenge,  but  the  returning  of  good  for  evil  is  set  aside  in 
favour  of  a  severer  apphcation  of  justice.     Benevolence  should 


I 


ETHICAL   IDEALISM  543 

be  for  mankind  generally,  but  for  our  own  families  first  .^  In  all 
this  there  is  some  infusion  of  practical  sense  which  may  not  un- 
fairly be  set  against  the  loss  of  the  romantic  glow.  Perhaps,  if 
we  may  strike  a  balance,  there  was  less  to  stir  the  brain's  blood, 
and  so  set  men  thinking  and  working  towards  wider  problems  yet 
and  deeper  solutions.  But  there  was  a  definite  theory  of  conduct 
appealing  to  the  best  of  man's  nature  and  calling  him  to  the 
service  of  his  fellow-men,  and  this  theory  has  for  more  than  two 
thousand  years  formed  the  actual  working  basis  of  life  for  a  great 
division  of  the  human  race. 

^  Universalism,  indeed,  is  not  so  prominent  as  in  Mohammedan  and 
Christian  ethics.  The  Confucians  were  thinking  and  writing  for  a  homo- 
geneous people  among  whom  the  divisions  were  those  of  a  decaying  feudal 
system.  They  speak  of  mankind  in  general  terms,  but  they  have  no  sharp 
distinctions  of  race  to  overcome.  They  refer  occasionally  to  the  outlying 
barbarous  tribes  which  will  be  "  attracted  "  by  good  government,  or  in- 
fluenced by  civilized  teaching.  But  the  fate  of  these  peoples  plays  no 
important  part  in  their  minds.  Nor  were  class  divisions  a  serious  problem 
for  them.  Confucius  lays  down  that  "  there  being  instruction  there  will 
be  no  distinction  of  classes  "  (Analects,  Book  XV.  chap,  xxxviii.).  Un- 
doubtedly they  stand  for  the  Chinese  community  as  one  great  whole,  but — 
from  the  natiu-e  of  their  historical  position — they  can  hardly  be  said  to  have 
conceived  Humanity  as  has  been  done  in  Western  thought. 


CHAPTER  VI 

PHILOSOPHIC    ETHICS 

1.  The  profound  conception  of  tlie  Ethical  basis  taught  by 
the  great  Chinese  thinkers  was  arrived  at  independently  by  a 
movement  of  thought  arising  at  about  the  same  period  of  time, 
but  in  a  distant  part  of  the  world,  and  under  deeply  contrasted 
conditions  of  culture.  The  great  Greek  philosophers  from  the 
fifth  century  B.C.  onwards,  worked  out  a  theory  of  life  in  which 
the  inherent  excellence  of  good  conduct,  the  strength  and  self- 
dependence  of  the  disciphned  character,  the  order  and  harmony 
of  the  well -governed  state,  were  held  up  as  ends  of  human  actions 
sufficient  in  themselves  to  inspire  effort  and  justify  self-sacrifice, 
worthy  to  be  followed  by  every  man  even  if  in  doing  so  he 
"  should  escape  the  notice  of  gods  and  men."  But  in  speaking 
of  Greek  thought  and  its  distinctive  message — and  it  is  only 
what  is  distinctive  and  that  only  in  the  barest  outline  that  can 
be  touched  on  here — we  must  recognize  at  the  outset  that  its 
method  was  no  less  important  than  its  results.  The  Chinese 
masters  inculcated  some  profound  truths  and  arrived  at  results 
often  closely  similar  to  the  best  teaching  of  the  Greeks.  But 
they  seem  to  have  laid  them  down  almost  as  dogmatically  and 
with  as  little  attempt  at  rational  proof  as  though  they  had  been 
dogmas  of  theology.  Certainly  there  is  but  little  trace  of  systen? 
in  Confucius  and  not  much  more  even  in  Mencius.  They  made 
little  attempt,  it  would  seem,  to  go  back  to  first  principles  and 
ask  the  why  and  wherefore  of  all  moral  rules.  Hence  they  were 
moral  teachers  rather  than  philosophers,  and  hence  also  in  the 
practical  result  they  accepted  only  too  much  of  Chinese  tradition, 
and  left  their  country,  after  all,  bound  in  the  fetters  of  antiquity. 

With  the  Greeks,  on  the  contrary,  moral  philosophy  begins 
its  course.  With  the  early  thinkers,  contemporaries  or  perhaps 
predecessors  of  Socrates,  who  propounded  the  question  "  What 
is  the  Good,  the  end  of  human  life,  the  aim  which  a  thinking 
being  should  set  before  him  as  the  goal  of  his  existence  ?  "  there 
begins  a  new  epoch  in  moral  development,  the  epoch  in  which 
the  ethical  consciousness,  long  dominated  by  the  forces  which 
shape  its  conceptions  unawares,  begins  to  re-act  upon  them,  to 

S44 


I 


PHILOSOPHIC  ETHICS  545 

turn  round  upon  the  conditions  that  have  hitherto  determined 
its  growth  and  inquire  into  their  why  and  wherefore.  Tliis 
is  part  of  a  movement  which  extends  far  beyond  the  sphere 
of  ethics  and  attacks  the  very  foundations  of  knowledge  and 
behef. 

Its  own  processes  and  methods,  the  principles  and  presup- 
positions of  all  its  tliinking,  are  the  last  things  of  which  the  mind 
becomes  conscious.  In  the  earliest  stages  of  its  development 
in  humanity  it  forms  ideas  under  the  stimulus  of  experience 
by  methods  which  have  all  the  roughness  and  imperfection 
of  hereditary  or  instinctive  reactions  unpoHshed  by  rational 
reflection.  The  ideas  themselves  are  loose  and  shppery.  They 
are  linked  one  with  another,  not  by  any  coherent  logic,  but  as 
the  vague  impulses  of  casual  association  suggest,  or  as  emotional 
conditions  predispose  the  imagination  to  impute  connections 
between  events.  It  is  out  of  this  chance-medley  of  mental  forces 
that  the  ideas  of  primitive  fancy  are  evolved. 

We  have  seen  how  the  advance  of  intelligence  brings  some 
order  into  this  chaos,  how  in  the  building  up  of  thought  casual 
suggestion  is  replaced  by  systematic  meditation  in  which  trained 
reasoning  and  methodical  analysis  play  their  part.  We  have 
seen  how  under  these  influences  the  naive  imagery  of  the  childish 
mind  jdelds  to  the  profound  conception  of  the  sage,  in  which 
finally  the  structural  categories  underlying  all  experience  are 
brought  clearly  before  consciousness,  and  utilized  in  the  con- 
struction of  a  pliilosophy  of  things. 

In  such  a  construction  there  is  undoubtedly  implied  a  certain 
criticism  both  of  the  conceptions  formed  and  of  the  methods  by 
which  they  are  formed.  Yet  underlying  it  all  are  assumptions 
which  are  only  brought  to  light  by  a  still  more  fundamental 
criticism,  the  criticism  wherein  thought  seeks  to  determine  its 
own  value  as  a  measure  of  reality.  Consider,  for  example,  the 
question  of  logical  method.  Criticism  may  have  shown  some 
reasoning  to  be  fallacious,  and  other  reasoning  to  be  apparently 
sound.  But  what  is  this  appearance  ?  Is  it,  after  all,  only  an 
impression  made  on  us,  which  we  accept  as  convincing  because 
we  cannot  resist  it  ?  But  if  so,  what  is  its  worth  ?  The  fallacy 
also  impressed  us  till  some  one  pointed  out  the  flaw,  and  perhaps 
it  still  impresses  other  minds  and  seems  as  sound  to  them  as  it 
appears  absurd  to  us.  Is  there,  then,  any  more  objective  or 
absolute  standard  of  sound  logic  which,  once  revealed,  would 
settle  all  doubts,  and  if  so,  how  are  we  to  know  it  ?  Again, 
suppose  our  logic  is  sound  so  that  we  may  unerringly  connect 
concept  with  concept,  what  precisely  is  the  value  of  it  all  at  the 

NN 


546  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

end  ?  We  may  forge  a  perfect  chain  of  logical  links,  but  what 
does  it  hang  from  ?  Is  it  suspended  in  mid-air,  or  are  there  first 
principles  fixed  in  the  adamantine  firmament,  or  possibly  solid 
supports  reared  on  earth ,  from  which  the  chain  may  hang  ? 
Does  thought  form  a  world  of  its  own,  or  does  it  relate  to  an 
independent  reality,  and  if  so,  how  is  the  relation  established 
and  its  validity  guaranteed  ?  Questions  such  as  these,  never 
finally  resolved,  but  constantly  renewed  with  deeper  meanings 
and  more  subtle  suggestions,  form  the  permanent  content  of 
the  philosophic  criticism  of  thought. 

This  criticism,  being  directed  throughout  to  the  discovery  of 
an  "  objective  "  standard  which  is  to  rescue  truth  from  the 
falHbility  of  ordinary  human  weakness,  must,  in  the  first 
place,  concern  itself  with  method.  It  will  evolve  a  logic  to 
justify  the  distinction  of  the  sound  from  the  unsound  in  reason- 
ing, and  systematize  valid  argument  on  some  connected  and 
coherent  principles.  Secondly,  it  will  inquire  into  the  genesis 
of  our  conceptions  and  will  test  them  by  reference  to  the  ex- 
perience from  which  they  are  educed.  Then,  applying  these 
methods,  it  will  seek  to  reconstruct  its  conception  of  Reahty. 
The  Socratic  Elenchus  (notwithstanding  the  limits  which  Socrates 
imposed  on  himself),  the  Platonic  Dialectic,  the  Aristotehan 
Logic  and  Metaphysics,  were  successive  attempts  in  this  direction. 
The  reconstruction  of  Reality  on  the  basis  of  a  criticism  of  first 
principles  was  in  fact  first  seriously  taken  in  hand  by  the  Greeks. 
But  in  the  progress  of  criticism  a  problem  emerges  affecting  the 
bare  possibility  of  Reconstruction — a  problem  which  can  hardly 
be  said  to  have  come  fully  witliin  the  purview  of  Greek  thought. 
The  mind  itself  may  be  regarded  as  a  product  of  the  Reality 
which  it  seeks  to  understand.  Or,  conversely,  the  world  of 
experience  may  be  regarded  as  a  product  of  the  Mind.  Its 
sensations,  its  conceptions,  its  methods,  its  principles,  the  very 
self-criticism  by  which  it  has  been  seeking  to  rectify  its  principles, 
may  all  be  results  of  its  own  growth  and  dependent  for  their 
peculiar  shape  on  its  own  development.  If  this  is  so,  must  not 
the  ultimate  result  of  the  philosophical  movement,  however  far 
it  may  push  its  criticism  of  knowledge,  still  lie  Avithin  the  circle 
of  the  mind's  own  maldng  1  Will  not  the  truth  that  satisfies  us 
still  be  a  truth  for  ourselves  alone,  or  if  it  is  more,  how  can  we 
be  assured  of  it  ?  Truth  is  truth,  but  does  it  give  us  Reality  ? 
To  determine  this  question  we  must  "  know  ourselves"  in  a  new 
sense.  We  must  ascertain  the  facts  as  to  the  constitution  and 
growth  of  the  mind.  We  must  re-examine  the  very  conceptions 
of  Truth  and  Reality.     We  must  determine  tlie  conditions  under 


PHILOSOPHIC  ETHICS  547 

which  knowledge  is  possible,  we  must  ascertain  the  limitations 
under  which  thought  arises  and  ask  how  far  those  limitations 
are  overcome.  To  attempt  this  more  thoroughgoing  evaluation 
of  the  subjective  factor  in  knowledge  has  been  the  special  task 
of  modern  philosophy.  To  some  aspects  of  the  problem  we  shall 
return  later,  confining  ourselves  in  the  present  chapter  to  the 
pliilosophy  of  the  Greeks,  and,  indeed,  to  one  branch  of  their 
pliilosopliical  development.  Their  reconstruction  of  knowledge 
and  reformed  conceptions  of  the  vvorld-order  intimately  affected 
their  ethical  thought,  which  was,  indeed,  merely  a  part  of  the 
general  movement  of  critical  reconstruction,  but  it  is  only  the 
ethical  side  of  the  movement  which  can  be  outlined  here. 

Indeed,  a  pliilosophical  reconstruction  is  by  no  means  less 
necessary  in  the  region  of  conduct  than  is  that  of  knowledge. 
On  the  contrary,  rules  of  conduct  have,  as  a  matter  of  history, 
grown  up  under  conditions  eminently  unfavourable  to  a  rational 
apprehension  of  the  ethical  order  best  suited  to  human  needs. 
They  have  arisen  under  the  conditions  of  group-morahty,  and 
are  tarnished  mth  the  brutahties  incident  to  the  struggle  for 
existence.  They  have  been  infected  by  gross  conceptions  of 
magical  influence  and  spiritual  resentments.  They  have  been 
distorted  by  the  sopliistications  vnih  which  men  hide  their 
spiritual  nakedness.  They  have  been  bent  into  weapons  used 
for  the  justification  of  class  or  race  supremacy,  of  arbitrary 
power,  of  sexual  Avrong.  In  no  other  department  are  the  funda- 
mental categories  in  such  permanent  need  of  criticism.  Good 
and  bad,  right  and  wrong,  virtue  and  vice — all  the  elementary 
conceptions  forming  the  pigeon-holes  wherein  we  arrange  our 
ideas  about  conduct,  what  at  bottom  do  they  mean  ?  What  is 
their  value  and  justification  ?  What  grounds  have  we  in  reason 
for  the  judgments  which  we  pass  on  conduct  when  we  use  them  ? 
Are  they  anjrthing  more  than  expressions  for  our  feehngs,  or 
have  they  a  higher  authority  ?  Is  the  standard  by  which  we 
apply  them  final,  or,  seeing  that  human  standards  vary,  is  there 
any  higher  standard  to  which  a  rational  society  would  conform, 
and  if  so,  how  is  it  to  be  ascertained  ?  Such  are  the  questions 
of  philosophic  ethics,  and  they  cut  deeper  than  any  simple 
ethical  idealism.  We  have  seen  ideals  of  character  arising 
under  Buddhist,  Christian,  and  Confucian  influence,  and  the 
mere  formation  of  such  ideals  involves  an  immense  advance  in 
reflection.  But  such  ideals  are  formed  by  lajdng  stress  on 
certain  elements  of  virtue  and  by  seeking  to  choke  up  certain 
sources  of  vice  without  any  systematic  inquiry  into  the  meaning 
and  object  of  virtue,  without  any  rational  examination  of  the 


648  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

ultimate  purpose  and  function  of  human  conduct,  and  therefore 
without  any  scientific  determination  of  the  rules  by  which  it 
should  be  guided.  Such  ideals  accordingly,  though  they  may 
carry  us  far  beyond  the  common  morality  of  the  average  man, 
are  not  necessarily  well  adapted  to  the  actual  conduct  of  life 
and  the  furtherance  of  human  progress.  They  may  even  lead 
us  further  away  from  the  path.  The  ultimate  hope  of  a  rational 
reconstruction  of  ethics  must  be  to  bring  us  back  from  the  rules 
and  ideals  that  have  grown  up  at  random  and  without  any 
thought-out  method  to  the  conditions  of  conduct  which  a  critical 
theory  of  what  is  best  for  humanity  may  prove  to  be  required. 
The  first  steps  towards  such  a  reconstruction  are  to  be  found  in 
Greek  Ethics,  and  the  resulting  movement  of  thought,  main- 
tained with  many  fluctuations  of  vigour  throughout  the  period 
of  classical  antiquity,  interrupted  though  not  wholly  arrested  by 
the  revival  of  the  theological  conception  of  ethics,  and  resumed 
in  a  new  shape  in  the  modern  period,  engendered  the  principal 
forms  of  ethical  theory  wliich  it  remains  for  us  to  mention.  To 
write  the  history  of  the  movement  would  be  incompatible  with 
the  scope  of  this  work.  At  best,  the  most  fundamental  features 
which  distinguish  this  order  of  ethical  conceptions  from  others 
may  be  summarily  mentioned. 

2.  So  far  as  he  had  a  theory  at  all,  the  early  Greek,  as  we 
have  seen,  held  to  the  magico-rehgious  basis  of  law  and  morals. 
The  Furies  punished  the  parricide.  The  perjurer  or  the  betrayer 
of  his  guest  aroused  the  wrath  of  Zeus.  The  curse  fell  upon  the 
offender,  and  would  work  itself  out  in  the  fate  of  his  children, 
if  not  in  his  own  life.  A  public  offence,  as  in  the  celebrated 
case  of  the  Alcmaeonidae,  might  involve  a  city  in  disaster  and 
render  necessary  a  public  ceremonial  of  purgation.  The  wrath 
of  Talthybius  fell  upon  the  Spartans  for  their  unceremonious 
treatment  of  the  heralds  of  Darius,  and  could  only  be  appeased 
by  the  devotion  of  two  Spartans  who  voluntarily  surrendered 
themselves  to  the  Persian  king  to  deal  with  as  he  pleased.  But 
stronger,  perhaps,  than  any  explicit  dread  of  divine  punishment 
was  the  half-mystical  reverence  for  established  law,  the  customs 
written  and  unwritten  of  each  city,  and  the  common  traditions 
of  all  Hellas.  With  the  absolute  and  unquestioned  authority 
of  established  tradition  was  bound  up,  as  the  Greeks  felt,  in- 
articulately perhaps,  but  none  the  less  vividly,  all  that  made  the 
free  civic  life  of  Greece  possible.  The  Greek  citizen  was  a  free 
man  because  he  was  governed  by  law,  and  the  culmination  of 
the  charges  against  the  tyrant  was  that  he  overrode  all  laws. 


PHILOSOPHIC  ETHICS  549 

written  and  unwritten.  To  render  back  to  the  laws  the  service 
due  to  them  was  the  pride  of  the  free  Hellene,  who  contrasted 
his  freely  rendered  service  to  a  constitution  supported  by 
his  own  voluntary  efforts  with  the  slavish  submission  of  the 
Oriental  to  the  arbitrary  will  of  his  master.  The  attitude  of  the 
true  freeman  is  nowhere  more  justly  stated  than  in  the  words 
which  Herodotus  puts  into  the  mouth  of  Demaratus,  the  ex-king 
of  Sparta  and  an  exile  at  the  Persian  court,  quoted  in  the  first 
part  of  tliis  work.  But  perhaps  the  most  complete  expression 
of  the  traditional  Greek  view  is  given  in  the  well-known  defence 
of  Antigone.  Creon  has  tyrannically  forbidden  the  burial  of 
her  brother.  She  tells  him  why  she  has  disregarded  his 
proclamation — 

"  It  was  not  Zeus  who  laid  this  ordinance  on  me,  nor  Justice, 
housemate  of  the  gods  below,  by  whom  these  laws  were  laid  down 
among  men.  Nor  did  I  deem  thy  order  of  such  might  that  thou, 
a  mortal  man,  shouldst  override  the  unwritten  and  unshaken 
laws  of  gods.  For  these  are  not  things  of  to-day  or  yesterday, 
but  live  for  ever,  and  none  know  whence  they  sprang.  For 
them  I  was  not  minded — not  in  fear  of  any  man's  pride — to  pay 
the  penalty  among  the  gods.  That  I  should  die,  I  knew — how 
else  ? — even  hadst  thou  made  no  order,  and  if  before  my  time  I 
die,  I  call  it  but  a  gain." 

Here  the  dominant  note  of  truth  and  right  for  ever  against 
the  petty  tyrant  of  a  day,  who  holds  mere  life  and  death  in  his 
hands,  blends  now  with  a  whisper  of  a  judgment  beyond  death, 
and  a  justice  that  sits  as  assessor  on  the  judgment-seat  in  Hades, 
now  with  a  more  decided  mysticism  which  makes  the  traditional 
law  supreme,  not  because  it  comes  from  the  gods,  but  because 
it  is  eternal  and  its  source  is  lost  in  the  darkness  out  of  which 
things  come. 

3.  This  uncritical  acceptance  of  traditional  morality  was 
rudely  shaken  by  the  negative  movement  of  thought  in  the  fifth 
century.  The  dialectics  of  Zeno  had  shaken  the  first  principles 
of  ordinary  knov.ledge.  The  metaphysics  of  Heraclitus  had 
attacked  the  testimony  of  the  senses.  On  the  speculative  side 
the  negative  movement  culminated  in  the  doctrine  of  Protagoras, 
that  "  man  is  the  measure  of  all  things,  of  those  which  are  that 
they  are,  of  those  which  are  not  that  they  are  not."  The  apph- 
cation  to  ethics  does  not  appear  to  have  been  made  by  Protagoras 
himself,  but  it  lay  read]:  to  hand  and  was  freely  used  by  some 
of  the  so-called  Sophists,  men  like  the  Polus,  Callicles  and 
Thrasymachus  of  the  Platonic  dialogues.     If  there  is  no  rational 


650  MORALS   IN   EVOLUTION 

ground  for  our  knowledge  of  nature,  how  can  we  expect  to  find 
any  for  our  theories  of  the  moral  life  ?  True,  there  is  law  in 
every  state,  and  he  who  breaks  the  law  will  be  punished  by  law, 
but  what  is  the  source  and  authority  of  law  itself  ?  The  law 
which  the  t3Tant  makes  rests,  as  all  men  admit,  on  the  strength 
of  his  own  arm,  wherewith  he  will  punish  those  who  break  it. 
But  in  precisely  the  same  way  the  Law  which  the  ruling  Few 
impose  on  the  subject  Many  rests  on  the  power  of  Fear,  whether 
due  to  superior  valour  or  better  organization,  to  enforce  their 
will ;  and  by  precisely  the  same  argument  in  a  democracy  the 
law  is  simply  what  the  majority  who  are  here  the  stronger 
decide  that  it  shall  be.  In  every  case  the  "  ruler,"  whether  an 
individual  or  a  class,  frames  the  law  in  his  own  interest  and 
enforces  it  by  his  power.  Justice  is  merely  a  name  for  the 
"  interest  of  the  stronger."  Hence  it  was  that  the  rule  of 
justice  differed,  as  the  travelled  Greeks  were  discovering,  from 
nation  to  nation.  Herodotus  told  of  tribes  who  were  as  scanda- 
lized at  the  Greek  custom  of  burying  the  dead  as  the  Greeks  Avere 
at  them  for  eating  their  dead.  If  right  and  wrong  were  founded 
in  nature,  this  would  not  be.  The  same  rules  would  be  in  force 
everywhere.  But  depending  on  convention,  they  vary  from 
place  to  place  as  it  suits  the  dominant  power  to  conceive  them. 
And  so  vo/xos,  the  law  written  and  unwritten,  is  identified 
with  convention,  or  institution  depending  on  the  arbitrary  and 
changeable  will  of  men,  and  is  opposed  to  ^wis,  nature,  as  the 
temporary  and  variable  to  that  which  is  permanent  and  rooted 
in  the  essential  structure  of  things. 

The  extent  to  which  this  sceptical  doctrine  had  sunk  into 
the  practical  life  of  Greece  may  be  measured  by  any  one  who 
will  contrast  with  the  passage  quoted  above,  the  arguments 
ascribed  by  Thucydides  to  the  Athenian  delegates  in  the  famous 
Mehan  Dialogue. 

"  As  for  the  gods,  we  expect  to  have  quite  as  much  of  their 
favour  as  you.  .  .  .  For  of  the  gods  we  believe,  and  of  men  we 
know,  that  by  a  law  of  their  nature  wherever  they  can  rule  they 
will.  ...  As  to  the  Lacedsemonians  ...  of  all  men  whom  we 
know  they  are  the  most  notorious  for  identifying  what  is  pleasant 
with  what  is  honourable,  and  what  is  expedient  with  what  is 
just,"  ^  etc. 

4.  Thus,  the  breakdown  of  the  traditional  Greek  theory 
of  the  moral  sa^ictions,  of  the  divine  basis  of  virtue,  and  the 
authoritative   supremacy   of   law,  was   not    merely   a    matter 

1  Time,  v.  105.     Tr.  Jowett. 


I 


PHILOSOPHIC  ETHICS  551 

of  speculative  interest.  It  represented  a  change  which  had 
sunk  deep  into  the  minds  of  the  people,  and  was  a  cause  of 
anxiety  to  all  thinking  men.  Accordingly,  the  efforts  of  the 
constructive  thinkers  of  Greece  during  the  latter  part  of  the  fifth 
century,  and  throughout  the  fourth,  were  devoted  to  the  recon- 
struction of  private  morals  and  public  law,  to  find  arguments 
in  admitted  principles  of  thought  or  in  the  unimpeachable 
evidence  of  experience  to  replace  the  old  supernatural  basis  of 
virtue,  and  to  determine,  in  the  phrase  of  the  day,  what  was 
natural  in  state  law  as  opposed  to  what  was  merely  a  matter  of 
human  agreement.  In  this  effort  the  negative  movement  had 
already  supplied  a  point  of  departure,  for  it  had  in  essentials 
formulated  a  first  principle  of  action ;  that  every  man  aims  at 
what  is  good  for  him,  or  at  least  at  what  appears  good  for  him, 
was  the  principle  tacitly  or  openly  avowed  to  which  negative 
criticism  had  been  brought.  This  principle  was  taken  up  by 
Socrates  and  his  followers  and  made  the  starting-point  of  a 
moral  reconstruction.  No  Greek  thinker,  whether  constructive 
or  negative,  idealist  or  hedonist,  Platonic  or  Aristotehan,  called 
this  axiom  itself  in  question,  but  it  was  possible  to  show,  as 
Socrates  was  the  first  to  discover,  that,  however  selfish  in  form, 
it  was  capable  of  an  interpretation  which  would  not  only 
reconcile  it  with  the  highest  claims  of  the  moral  consciousness, 
but  even  set  these  claims  upon  an  apparently  firm  basis  in 
reason.  For  though  it  may  be  true  that  all  men  aim  at  the 
apparent  good,  it  does  not  follow  that  that  good  is  the  interest 
of  self,  or  the  satisfaction  of  the  sensual  nature  as  opposed  to 
the  fulfilment  of  a  man's  function  as  a  citizen  and  the  cultiva- 
tion of  his  higher  faculties.  On  the  contrary,  Socrates,  whose 
philosophical  method  was  that  of  conversation  at  the  dinner- 
party or  in  the  market-place,  was  easily  able  to  appeal  to  the 
ordinary  opinion  of  the  average  man,  and  to  elicit  from  him 
that  he  held  courage  and  justice,  wisdom  and  temperance,  the 
ordinary  virtues  of  the  good  citizen,  in  higher  esteem  than  the 
pleasures  of  the  senses  or  the  interest  of  money-getting.  But 
if  this  were  so,  if  it  were  in  reality  best  for  a  man  to  restrain 
his  lower  nature  and  to  practise  the  duties  of  a  good  father  and 
a  good  citizen,  if  the  higher  good,  however  defined,  lay  in  tliis 
direction,  then  the  principle  that  each  man  chooses  what  appears 
to  him  to  be  good  will  inevitably  lead  a  wise  man,  who  has  found 
out  where  the  true  good  lies,  in  the  path  of  virtue  and  good 
citizenship ;  and  if  we  find  people  who  are  cowards  and  unjust 
and  unbridled  in  their  licence,  it  is  because  they  do  not  know 
where  their  true  good  lies.     So  the  critics  who  held  themselves 


552  MORALS  IN  EV^OLUTION 

superior  to  the  ordinary  moral  tradition  found  their  own  weapon 
turned  against  them.  Their  principle  that  every  one  must  aim 
at  his  own  good  is  freely  adopted,  wdth  the  rider  that  he  who 
knows  his  true  good  finds  it  essentially  in  adherence  to  those 
traditions  which  the  sceptic  scorns.  The  abandonment  of  virtue 
is  a  proof,  not,  as  had  been  urged,  of  superior  -wdsdom,  but  of 
ignorance  of  the  real  interests  of  human  nature.  Virtue,  in 
fact,  might  be  defined  as  a  kind  of  art  of  measuring — the  art  of 
measuring  values  aright.  He  who  knows  what  true  pleasure  is 
finds  it  in  the  pursuit  of  virtue ;  he  who  finds  it  elsewhere  has 
made  a  mistake  in  liis  fundamental  principles.^ 

5.  But,  after  all,  it  was  open  to  the  critics  to  rejoin  that  the 
intrinsic  value  and  goodness  of  the  just  and  virtuous  life  was 
assumed  rather  than  proved.  By  what  argument,  it  might  be 
asked,  or  by  what  appeal  to  experience  can  it  actually  be  made 
clear  to  a  doubter  beyond  any  possibility  of  a  cavil  that  the  man 
who  is  sacrificing  some  direct  interest,  some  monej^-profit,  or, 
perhaps,  his  personal  security,  for  the  sake  of  justice,  is  not  mak- 
ing a  gross  miscalculation  of  values  ?  In  what  sense  is  it  urged 
that  justice  is  in  itself  superior  to  injustice  ?  Do  we  not  admit 
that  in  refraining  from  injustice  we  are  giving  up  something 
that  is  useful  to  ourselves  and  seeking  the  gain  of  another,  and 
is  this  not  incompatible  with  our  first  principle  that  every  reason- 
able man  seeks  liis  own  good  ?  It  is  true  that  his  losses  might 
be  made  up  to  the  just  man  by  human  rulers  or  by  a  divine 
judge,  but  w^hat  are  we  to  say  of  the  position  of  the  just  man 
under  a  t,^Tant  or  a  tyrannous  democracy,  and  what  are  we  to 
think  of  the  problem  of  divine  judgment  when  the  whole  frame- 
work of  the  supernatural  is  being  called  in  question  ?  Besides, 
if  the  just  man  is  acting  for  the  sake  of  a  reward — indirect  and 
remote  it  may  be,  postponed  to  a  future  life  it  may  be — is  he 
really  acting  from  a  principle  of  justice  ?  Is  he  not,  after  all, 
seeking  a  reward  for  himself  though  he  calculates  on  a  different 
basis  from  the  unjust  man,  and  if  he  miscalculates,  need  we 
admire  or  pity  liim  ?  In  a  word,  had  any  one  the  ring  of  Gyges 
would  he  not,  once  rendered  invisible  and  so  invulnerable  to 
his  fellow-men,  do  as  Gyges  did,  and  practise  against  them  all 
manner  of  villainy  that  might  be  necessary  in  the  course  of 
satisfying  his  ovna  desires  ?  These  positions  are  stated  with 
extreme  force  and  clearness  in  the  second  book  of  the  Republic, 

^  This  is  the  position  attributed  to  Socrates  in  the  Protagoras,  and  no 
dovilDt  represents  one  side  of  the  INIastor's  teaching,  thougli  the  hedonism 
of  the  Dialogue  probably  represents  one  aspect  only  of  the  Socratic  view. 


PHILOSOPHIC  ETHICS  553 

and  the  demand  is  made  upon  the  Socrates  of  the  Dialogue  to 
give  an  account  of  justice  which  will  sweep  all  this  network  of 
doubts  aside.  Socrates  is  to  show  that  the  just  man  is  happier 
and  better  off  than  the  unjust,  even  if  he  escapes  the  notice  of 
gods  and  men,  even  if  he  is  misjudged  in  this  world  and  the  next, 
even  if  he  suffers  the  penalties  of  injustice  and  the  unjust  man 
gets  the  rewards  of  the  innocent.  The  benefits  of  justice  in 
itself  are  to  prove  such  as  to  outweigh  every  possible  considera- 
tion of  external  reward  or  penalty.  Never  before  or  since  has 
the  claim  of  the  moral  consciousness  to  override  every  other 
consideration  been  more  uncompromisingly  stated.  The  method 
by  which  Plato  makes  Socrates  set  out  to  answer  the  formidable 
difficulties  propounded  to  him  is  that  of  inviting  his  hearers  to 
a  deeper  analysis  of  the  nature  of  the  human  being  and  of  the 
state.  He  finds  that  human  nature  is  in  itself  a  commonwealth 
in  miniature,  in  which  there  is  a  ruhng  portion  represented  by 
the  reason.  There  is  a  spirited  element  whose  natural  function 
it  is  to  assist  the  reason,  as  the  miHtary  element  of  the  state 
should  assist  the  philosophical  rulers.  And,  lastly,  there  is 
within  man  a  many-headed  monster  of  desire  like  the  manj- 
headed  mob  of  the  Athenian  democracy.  There  are  certain 
natural  and  proper  relations  which  these  different  portions  of 
the  soul  should  maintain  towards  one  another.  The  reason 
should  rule,  the  spirited  element  should  assist  it  in  so  doing,  the 
many-headed  monster  should  be  under  control ;  and  when  these 
conditions  are  satisfied  a  certain  harmony  results ;  it  is  well 
with  the  man,  his  inner  man  is  at  peace.  And  in  this  peace 
and  harmony  the  cardinal  virtues  which  the  ordinary  Greek 
recognizes  have  their  different  parts  to  play.  In  the  due  exercise 
of  the  reason  there  is  ^^isdom.  In  the  aid  rendered  to  wisdom 
by  the  due  cultivation  of  the  emotional  element  which  enables 
us  to  mthstand  alike  the  temptations  of  danger  and  the  se- 
ductions of  pleasure,  there  is  courage.  For  though  the  weak 
man  may  have  implanted  in  him  the  right  opinion  as  to  how 
he  should  guide  his  action,  something  more  than  opinion  is 
necessary  when  it  comes  to  the  pinch ;  there  must  be  that 
tenacity  which  enables  us  to  maintain  our  opinion  in  the  face 
of  temptation,  and  to  show  that  tenacity  is  to  be  brave.  Again, 
there  must  be  an  agreement  among  all  the  three  parts,  a  harmony 
stretching  through  the  whole  of  the  soul,  that  reason  should 
rule,  and  this  harmony  is  temperance.  Given  these  three 
virtues  we  have  the  conditions  necessary  for  the  healthy  func- 
tioning of  each  part  of  the  soul.  This  active  functioning,  which 
consists  in  a  perfect  co-operation  of  all  parts  of  the  soul,  each 


554  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

doing  its  own  work  without  going  outside,  is  Plato's  definition 
of  justice.  Justice,  then,  is,  in  the  first  place,  the  harmonious 
nealthy  life  of  the  soul  itself.  But  it  is  this  inner  harmony 
which  enables  a  man  to  do  his  duty  in  the  world  to  which  he 
belongs.  He  plays  the  part  required  of  him  in  the  larger  life 
ofj  the  state,  because  each  element  in  his  own  nature  plays  the 
part  required  of  it  within  the  miniature  commonwealth  that 
forms  Ms  soul.  The  outer  harmony  depends  on  the  inner,  A 
man  behaves  as  a  good  citizen  because  his  moral  nature  is  in 
healthy  working  order,  and,  conversely,  when  he  fails  in  that 
duty  his  own  nature  is  out  of  harmony  with  itself  and  is  cor- 
rupted and  diseased.  Thus,  at  the  end  of  the  argument,  justice 
is  above  all  tilings  valuable  to  its  possessor,  in  so  far  as  the  soul 
is  more  valuable  to  itself  than  all  the  rest  of  the  world.  Justice 
is  to  the  soul  what  health  is  to  the  body — it  is  its  active  ex- 
cellence and  perfect  life ;  without  it,  nothing  that  seems  good 
can  be  really  good,  with  it  there  is  no  evil  that  cannot  be  faced. 
If  pleasure  be  alleged  as  a  more  rational  end  for  man,  it  may  be 
retorted  that  it  is  only  the  pleasure  of  the  soul  which  is  a  real 
pleasure.  The  pleasures  of  the  many  are  transitory  and  full 
of  contradiction.  We  see  them  on  their  hofidays,  then  as  now, 
filhng  the  unreal  part  of  themselves  with  unreal  joys.  The 
philosopher  alone  knows  what  reality  is,  and  is  proved,  with  a 
characteristic  bit  of  Platonic  humour,  to  have  at  least  seven 
hundred  and  twenty-nine  times  as  much  real  enjoyment  as  the 
devotee  of  the  senses. 

6.  Thus  justice,  which  is  here  in  reality  the  name  for  virtuej 
is  founded  upon  an  explicit  theory  of  the  nature  of  man,  and 
both  the  positions  of  the  sceptic  are  met  and  turned  against  him. 
On  the  one  hand,  it  is  shown  that  if  a  man  aims  at  what  is  good 
for  himself,  he  must,  if  he  is  a  reasonable  and  instructed  being, 
endeavour  to  obtain  that  which  is  for  his  soul  what  health  is  for 
the  body.  On  the  other  hand,  if  it  is  asked  on  what  laws  or 
conditions  of  nature  is  justice  founded,  the  answer  is  that  it 
is  founded  on  the  constitution  of  human  nature  itself  and  of 
the  societies  which  human  beings  form.  These  positions  are  in 
essence  retained  by  Aristotle,  though  with  more  of  that  com- 
promising spirit  which  belongs  to  Aristotle's  method.  The  good 
is  that  at  which  everji^liing  aims,  and  is  to  be  found  in  the  per- 
formance of  that  function  which  nature  assigns  to  it  in  the  scheme 
of  things.  In  this  scheme  the  function  of  every  class  of  being 
lies  especially  in  the  active  realization  of  its  own  specific  character. 
The  specific  character  of  man  is  that  he  is  a  rational  animal, 


PHILOSOPHIC  ETHICS  555 

capable  of  governing  himself  by  reason  in  a  social  life  and  capable 
of  exercising  his  reason  in  the  great  department  of  speculation 
as  a  philosopher.  In  the  first  direction  his  moral  virtues  are 
developed,  in  the  second  his  speculative  powers.  And  so  the 
well-being  of  man  consists  in  an  active  realization  of  the  soul- 
life  in  accordance  with  what  is  excellent,  and  especially  in 
accordance  with  the  best  and  highest  of  excellences.  This  is  the 
essence  of  well-being.  But  perhaps  it  would  be  extreme  and 
paradoxical  to  maintain  that  external  misfortune  has  no  effect 
upon  it.  A  man  is  not  happy  if  the  misfortunes  of  a  Priam 
beset  him.  Yet  even  in  such  a  case  the  nobility  of  his  character 
will  shine  through.  He  -^dll  never  be  wTctched  as  the  caitiff 
and  the  sensuaHst  might  become ;  it  will  still  be  well  for  him  in 
that  he  bears  his  misfortunes  better  than  other  people.  But 
though  fortune  may  help  to  make  or  mar,  and  though  there  is 
an  element  of  chance  in  human  life  which  is  never  wholly  mastered 
and  overcome  by  human  reason,  nevertheless,  speaking  generallj'' 
— and  Aristotle  is  clear  that  we  can  only  speak  generally  and 
not  universally  in  dealing  with  human  affairs — the  man  who 
resolutely  makes  the  best  of  his  own  powers  and  actively  realizes 
them,  is  the  happiest.  He  has  no  need  of  the  ordinary  pleasures 
as  an  appendage,  so  to  say,  to  his  life,  for  this  realization  of  him- 
self at  his  best  has  its  own  pleasure  within  itself ;  as  his  hfe  is  the 
best,  so  is  it  also  the  pleasantest.  Bad  fortune  will  hinder  him, 
good  fortune  will  aid  him  in  making  the  most  of  liimself  and  in 
showing  all  that  he  has  it  in  him  to  be.  But  this  is  at  the  utmost 
a  not  indispensable  advantage,  and  the  essence  of  his  well-being 
is  that  he  himself  does  well, 

7.  Thus,  upon  the  fundamental  question  of  moral  philosophy 
Socrates,  Plato  and  Aristotle  were  essentially  at  one.  That 
question  is  by  most  modern  moralists  defined  as  the  question 
of  the  nature  of  moral  obligation.  Why  should  I  do  what  is 
right,  or  why  should  I  recognize  the  distinction  between  right 
and  wrong,  ought  and  ought  not  ?  Is  it  a  matter  of  some 
external  reward  or  punishment  befalhng  me  according  to  the 
character  of  my  conduct,  or  is  it  a  matter  of  some  intrinsic 
quality  in  the  conduct  itself  ?  To  the  Greek  philosophers  the 
question  took  the  form  :  What  is  the  character  of  that  which  is 
really  good  for  man,  or  in  what  does  human  well-being  consist  ? 
The  answer  which  they  gave  to  it  was  essentially  that  it  consists 
in  the  practice  of  virtue  as  being  that  wherein  human  nature 
finds  its  best,  happiest  and  most  harmonious  expression.  Tliis 
method  of  handling  the  problem  leads  at  once  to  tire  converse 


556  MORALS  IN   EVOLUTION 

question,  Why  do  the  majority  of  men  at  one  time  or  another 
neglect  virtue  and  do  that  which  is  evil  ?  Notliing  could  be 
more  characteristic  of  Greek  modes  of  thought  and  of  the  gulf 
which  separates  them  from  Christian  and  post -Christian  ethics 
than  the  method  of  handling  this  question.  To  the  Christian 
theologian  and  to  the  moralist  handling  the  subject  with  theo- 
logical conceptions  behind  liim,  the  difficulty  is  to  see  how  men 
come  to  do  good.  To  the  Greek  thinker  the  paradox  is  rather 
that  so  many  men  do  wrong.  From  the  axiom  from  which  all 
Greek  thinkers  started,  it  was  clear  that  men  could  only  do 
wrong  from  some  mistake  in  their  conception  of  what  was  good. 
If,  as  the  three  great  thinkers  whom  we  have  mentioned  were 
agreed,  the  good  for  men  lay  essentially  in  the  pursuit  of  virtue, 
then  in  strict  logic  it  could  only  be  from  some  ignorance  of  its 
first  principle  that  men  went  astray.  Socrates,  in  fact,  drew  this 
deduction  apparently  without  any  hesitation  or  compromise. 
To  him  vice  was  ignorance,  and  if  a  man  were  found  to  be  in- 
temperate, cowardly  or  unjust,  it  was  only  because  he  did  not 
know  what  true  temperance,  courage  and  justice  were,  or  hoAv 
to  apply  the  rules  based  upon  them  to  the  circumstances  of  his 
OAvn  life.  He  was  a  bad  craftsman  in  the  art  of  life,  a  man  who 
did  not  know  how  to  use  his  tools,  and  capable  of  being  im- 
proved by  instruction  and  by  instruction  alone.  It  was  easy  to 
see  that  the  position  so  uncompromisingly  stated  led  to  para- 
doxical results.  It  tended  to  make  all  conduct  a  matter  of  the 
intellect  and  not  of  the  character,  and  so  in  a  sense  to  destroy 
moral  responsibility.  Accordingly  in  Plato  we  have  an  attempt 
at  a  reconstruction  of  the  Socratic  view.  At  any  rate,  in  the 
maturer  Dialogues  we  find,  as  has  already  been  remarked,  that 
the  emotional  or  spirited  element  in  man  is  called  upon  to  take 
its  share  in  the  work  of  governing  the  wild  beast  that  is  within 
human  nature.  The  force  of  character  which  enables  a  man  to 
maintain  his  opinion  is  recognized  as  something  distinct  from 
the  purely  rational  element  in  him  which  enables  him  origin- 
ally to  gain  his  opinion.  In  the  story  of  Leontios  the  son  of 
Aglaion,  the  internal  moral  conflict,  the  division  of  the  self  into 
factions,  and  the  wrath  of  the  better  part  of  human  nature  at 
the  victory  of  the  lower,  are  dramatically  described.  But  for  a 
complete  theory  of  responsibility  as  far  as  Greek  thought  could 
take  it,  we  must  turn  to  Aristotle.  Aristotle  does  not  deny  the 
major  premiss  from  which  the  Socratic  syllogism  starts.  Every 
intelligence,  he  admits,  chooses  what  is  best  for  itself,  but  in 
order  that  a  right  understanding  of  what  is  best  may  be  attained, 
something  more  than  intelligence  is  required.     It  is,  after  all. 


PHILOSOPHIC  ETHICS  557 

only  moral  men  who  can  thoroughly  understand  the  nature  of 
a  moral  code,  for  in  moral  matters  intellectual  enhghtenment 
depends  upon  character.  Hence  those  are  mistaken  who  urge 
that  we  cannot  be  responsible  for  wrong-doing  because  the 
wrong-doer  acts  in  accordance  wdth  what  appears  to  him  to  be 
good  and,  if  he  is  mistaken,  cannot  be  held  responsible  for  his 
ignorance.  The  reply  to  this  is  that  ignorance  proceeds  from  and 
is  a  mark  of  bad  character,  and  it  is  his  own  slack  method  of 
living  which  has  corrupted  the  bad  man's  views  and  made  him 
at  once  remiss  in  his  conduct  and  mistaken  in  his  judgment. 
Virtue  does  not  come  purely  by  nature,  nor  can  it  be  taught  in 
the  schools  like  an  art,  but  along  Avith  teaching,  or  rather  ante- 
cedently to  teaching  itself,  the  youth  must  undergo  a  training  in 
practice.  Tliis  practical  training  will  produce  the  necessary 
character.  The  character  being  formed  will  give  us  the  right 
aims,  and  then  a  trained  intelligence  is  necessary  in  the  form 
of  Practical  Wisdom  to  reason  from  those  aims  and  apply  the 
results  to  practical  affairs.  Tliis,  in  brief,  is  the  psychology  of 
the  good  man.  Contrasted  with  him  stands,  in  the  first  place, 
the  profhgate  who  has  what  Plato  called  "the  lie  in  the  soul," 
who  entertains,  that  is  to  say,  the  radically  false  principle  of  life 
that  the  proper  tiling  for  a  man  is  always  to  pursue  the  pleasure 
of  the  moment.  This  character  is  again  consistent.  Bad  training 
has  given  its  possessor  a  bad  principle,  and  he  applies  his  principle 
resolutely  in  action.  But  between  the  good  and  the  bad  stands 
a  third  character  whose  essence  is  to  be  inconsistent.  This  is 
tte  incontinent  man  who  has  sufficient  moral  enhghtenment  to 
admit  the  goodness  of  virtue  as  a  general  principle,  but  who  is  so 
far  overcome  by  passion  and  appetite  as  to  find  means  of  evading 
the  application  of  the  principle  to  the  facts  of  conduct.  He 
allows  himself  to  be  deluded  by  self -sophistication,  and  lets  his 
desires  represent  the  action  which  he  is  about  in  a  light  which 
prevents  it  from  being  seen  to  fall  under  the  general  rule  which 
would  forbid  it.  He  does  not  deny  that  the  courageous  man  is 
superior  to  the  cowardly,  but  he  is  always  sure  that  the  present 
occasion  is  one  which  calls  for  discretion,  and  not  for  an  imprudent 
display  of  valour.  He  does  not  uphold  injustice,  but  while  con- 
stantly overreaching  his  neighbour,  is  all  the  time  convinced  that 
he  is  only  too  modest  in  maintaining  his  own  rights.^     But  all 

1  These  illustrations  are  not  Aristotle's,  who  confines  himself  to  the  case  of 
the  actual  obliteration  of  rational  reflection  by  sensual  appetite.  But  the 
principle  is  the  same.  The  great  mass  of  wrong-doing,  particularly  in 
public  affairs,  seems  to  have  a  measure  of  self -sophistication  as  its  necessary 
condition.  Few  people  will  admit  nakedly,  even  to  themselves,  that  what 
they  do  is  wrong.     They  must  have  some  specious  terms  in  which  to  cloak 


558  MORALS  IN   EVOLUTION 

this  intellectual  jugglery  does  not  free  him  from  responsibility. 
It  is  the  consequence  and  the  sign  of  an  imperfectly  disciplined 
character,  and  each  man  not  only  chooses  his  own  actions,  but, 
at  least  at  the  outset,  he  chooses  his  own  character  also,  because 
the  character  is  made  by  the  actions.  Human  nature,  upon 
this  view,  is  neither  intrinsically  good  nor  intrinsically  bad.  It 
needs  no  supernatural  grace  to  lift  it  out  of  the  slough  of  original 
sin,  neither  is  it  born  in  a  state  of  innocence  from  which  it  falls 
away  as  life  proceeds.  It  has  originally  a  natural  capacity  to 
be  influenced  by  training  and  teaching,  and  if  favourably  situated 
'vvhere  the  winds  blow  upon  it  from  healthy  and  salubrious  climes, 
it  flourishes  and  grows  up  into  wisdom  and  moral  goodness.  If 
it  fails  to  receive  the  right  nutrition,  and  if  no  effort  is  made  to 
respond  to  the  training  of  the  spiritual  pastor  and  master,  then 
it  falls  away,  possibly  into  the  deliberate  corruption  of  the 
principle  of  selfish  pleasure,  perhaps  rather  into  that  t"v\dHght  of 
the  average  sensual  man  in  which  the  rule  of  right  is  sometliing 
seen  and  acknowledged  from  afar,  but  never  allowed  to  shine 
unshaded  upon  the  agent's  own  conduct. 

8.  From  the  question  why  we  should  concern  ourselves  to  be 
virtuous  and  how  we  should  go  about  to  be  virtuous,  we  pass 
next  to  the  question  in  what  virtue  consists.  If  by  this  is 
meant — Wliat  in  the  modern  sense  is  the  moral  standard  ?  it 
must  be  admitted  that  none  of  the  thinkers  we  are  here  con- 
sidering have  a  perfectly  definite  answer  to  give.  Even  the 
famous  Aristotelian  Doctrine  of  the  Mean  is  not  a  doctrine 
laying  down  an  objective  measure  to  which  the  rules  of  conduct 
and  the  laws  of  the  state  should  conform.  Nevertheless  the 
Socratic  thinkers  have  an  ideal  of  their  own  which  in  many 
respects  is  very  clearly  defined.  It  is  by  no  means  identical  with 
the  ideal  of  the  more  spiritual  religions ;  we  may  say  that  it  is 
both  more  and  less  than  they  are.  It  is  essentially  an  ideal  for 
this  world,  and  it  bids  men  make  the  best  of  their  life  in  this 
world.  It  is  an  ideal  made  for  human  nature.  It  is  not  one 
which  consists  in  overcoming  human  nature.  It  is  an  ideal  for 
the  active  citizens  of  a  free  state,  not  for  men  who  can  only 
hope  to  practise  virtue  by  retiring  from  state  affairs.  Though 
they  put  the  philosopher's  life  above  the  statesman's,  neither 
Plato  nor  Aristotle  could  forget  that  they  were  members  of  a 
self-governing  community,  owing  their  freedom  and  their  culture 

the  deed.  They  must  screen  themselves  from  their  own  inner  conscious- 
ness, and  thus,  though  sophistication  is  not  the  originating  cause,  it  is  an 
essential  condition  of  most  conduct,  public  or  private,  that  conflicts  with 
admitted  principle. 


PHILOSOPHIC  ETHICS  559 

to  the  security  which  their  citizenship  gave  them ;    nor  could 
they  leave  out  of  their  minds  that  a  great  part  of  the  impulse 
which  had  turned  men's  minds  to  moral  pliilosophy  Avas  the 
endeavour  to  save  the  city  state  from  that  loosening  of  the 
bonds  of  political  obligation  which  they  saw  going  on  around 
them.     Hence  the  first  duty  of  man,  whether  in  the  Republic  or 
in  the  Ethics,  is  to  be  a  good  citizen.     Whether,  indeed,  he  can 
always  be  a  loyal  citizen  in  a  bad  state,  is  a  point  which  gives 
Aristotle  some  difficulty ;  but  that  the  ideal  arrangement  is  that 
he  should  find  a  state  of  society  in  wliich  to  be  a  good  man  and 
a  good  citizen  are  one  and  the  same  thing  is  a  matter  about 
which  there  is  no  doubt.     The  good  citizen  is  one  who  can  both 
rule  and  be  ruled.     He  has  the  self-disciphne  which  enables  him 
to  submit  to  others  when  their  turn  comes,  and  the  wisdom 
which  enables  liim  to  direct,  not  only  his  own  affairs,  but  those 
of  the  state  when  his  own  turn  comes.     He  must  be  ready  to 
fight  for  his  city  in  war  and  to  count  it  the  noblest  of  deaths 
to  die  for  her.     He  must  be  moderate  in  his  pleasures,  capable 
of  restraining  appetite  lest  it  should  get  the  mastery  of  him, 
not  given  to  anger,  but  capable  of  righteous  indignation  when 
circumstances  require  it,  hberal  without  ostentation  in  money 
matters,  and  careful  of  the  rights  of  others  to  the  point  of  being 
willing  always  to  take  less  than  his  own  share  rather  than  press 
his  interests  too  keenly.     He  should  have  an  adequate  measure 
of  self-respect,  and  a  great-souled  man,  who  is  in  a  sense  the 
perfect  type  of  this  kind  of  character,  being  worthy  of  great 
things,  should  deem  himself  worthy  of  great  things.     He  should 
know  himself  for  what  he  is,  and  do  nothing  to  belittle  or  demean 
himself.     In  voice,  in  gait  and  in  gesture  his  dignity  should  be 
reflected.     He  should  feel  a  proper  pride  in  himself,  and  trust 
to  that  pride  to  keep  him  from  anything  degrading.     He  is  thus 
the  direct  antithesis  of  the  holy  and  humble  man  of  heart  whom 
the  Christian  teaching  holds  up  to  esteem.     The  antithesis  is 
inevitable ;   the  Christian  saint  is  conscious  of  a  sinfulness  from 
wliich  the  divine  grace  alone  has  raised  him,  and  which  never- 
theless still  tinges  and  stains  all  that  he  does  when  it  is  matched 
against  the  white  radiance  of  infinite  perfection.     The  great- 
souled  Greek  has  learnt  to  govern  his  own  nature ;  he  measures 
himself  with  his  equals,  and  if  he  owes  a  debt  it  is  to  his  country 
and  her  laws,  which  he  repays  in  the  capacity  of  faithful  and 
upright  magistrate  and  citizen.     And  thus  the  Greek  ideal  is 
cast  rather  in  the  mould  of  the  hero  or  the  statesman  than  in 
that  of  the  saint.     Justice  is  far  more  prominent  than  benevol- 
ence ;  in  place  of  the  mortification  of  the  flesh  we  have  a  reason- 


660  MORALS  IN   EVOLUTION 

able  temperance,  a  self-restraint  which  prevents  the  lower  nature 
from  usurping  the  place  of  the  liigher.^  We  have  the  conception, 
perhaps  not  less  illuminating,  that  justice,  being  good,  can  only 
have  good  as  its  result,  and  therefore  the  punishment  that  is 
just,  far  from  doing  harm  to  the  criminal,  is  medicine  that  he 
should  welcome  for  his  own  sake.^  Finally,  with  the  patriotism 
bound  up  with  the  city  state  we  get  the  inevitable  limitation 
which  a  purely  civic  morality  entails.  The  rights  and  duties 
which  the  Greek  citizen  recognized  were  obligations  existing  in 
the  full  sense  only  as  between  a  limited  circle  of  free  men.  Plato 
does  not  carry  his  humanitarianism  beyond  the  point  of  urging 
that,  in  making  war  with  one  another,  the  Greek  states  should 
treat  the  conquered  as  they  do  now  in  the  civil  contests  of 
factions  within  each  state,  and  that,  in  making  war  upon  the 
Barbarian,  they  should  treat  the  conquered  as  they  now  treat 
conquered  Greeks.  Aristotle  grades  the  rights  of  human  beings 
according  to  the  degree  in  which  personality  is  developed.  The 
man  capable  of  full  citizenship  is  the  man  f ullycapable  of  directing 
aifairs,  and  he  is  the  possessor  of  practical  wisdom  in  its  complete- 
ness. The  woman,  the  child  and  the  slave  who  are  not  so  quali- 
fied have  inferior  rights,  and  we  have  seen  how  Aristotle  found  in 
this  a  justification  for  the  inequality  of  the  sexes  and  for  slavery. 
Yet  the  slave  is,  after  all,  a  man,  and,  in  so  far  as  he  is  a  man, 
he  is  capable  of  friendship  and  of  entering  into  and  fulfilling 
obhgations.  Rights,  as  a  modern  might  put  it,  depend  on  per- 
sonality. But  personality — the  capacity  for  free,  responsible 
self-direction — is  not  the  attribute  of  all  human  beings. 

Such,  then,  in  brief,  are  the  virtues  and  limitations  of  the 
civic  ideal,  but  we  must  always  remember  that  neither  in  Plato 
nor  Aristotle  is  this  the  highest  ideal  of  all.  The  idea  of  rising 
beyond  human  nature  to  something  beyond  it,  the  idea  of  becom- 
ing citizens  of  a  better  world  than  this,  is  to  both  the  crown  of 
their  work ;  and  we  see  in  them  the  way  paved,  not  only  for  the 
wise  man  of  the  Stoic  philosophy  who  should  reach  perfection 

i  In  some  of  the  Platonic  Dialogues  this  is  pushed  to  the  point  of 
asceticism,  and  this  line  of  the  Platonic  teaching  is  carried  further  by  the 
old  Academy  and  revived  in  Neoplatonism.  But  the  maturer  mind  of 
Plato  himself,  as  seen,  for  example,  in  the  Rejniblic,  does  not  push  asceticism 
beyond  the  limit  of  healthy  self-restraint  in  the  interests  of  the  character 
as  a  whole. 

°  That  justice,  being  good,  can  never  show  itself  in  doing  harm  either  to 
one's  enemy  or  to  a  bad  man  is  the  gist  of  the  argument  with  Polemarchus 
in  Republic,  i.  (see  esp.  p.  335).  So  in  the  Laws  (Book  IX.  854)  the  object  of 
punishment  is  never  evil,  but  to  make  a  man  better,  or  at  any  rate  less  bad. 
Similarly  in  the  Ethics,  only  the  incurable  are  to  be  altogether  "  put 
beyond  the  boundaries." 


I 


PHILOSOPHIC  ETHICS  561 

in  a  state  of  slavery  or  under  a  tyrannical  rule,  but  even  for  the 
Christian  saint  who  found  his  highest  bliss  in  withdra"wing  from 
the  affairs  of  this  world  altogether.  The  Platonic  pliilosopher 
only  remains  a  statesman  from  his  sense  of  obligation  to  the  city 
which  has  nourished  and  trained  him.  We  shall  not  do  him  an 
injustice,  says  Plato,  if  we  compel  him  to  return  into  the  cave 
where  the  prisoners  of  this  world  dwell,  watching  the  play  of 
unreal  things  in  a  dim  and  uncertain  light ;  but  in  his  heart  he 
will  always  desire  to  range  abroad  freely  in  the  Elysian  Fields, 
where  by  the  purer  light  of  reason  he  can  contemplate  the  essential 
goodness  of  things.  So  in  Aristotle's  scheme,  for  the  philosopher 
the  ultimate  value  of  practical  wisdom  is  to  so  regulate  the 
affairs  of  life  and  bring  the  lower  elements  of  the  mind  into  order 
as  to  set  the  speculative  wisdom  free  to  rise  to  those  higher 
objects  of  contemplation  in  which  the  Sage  finds  his  true  dehght. 
The  philosopher  remains  a  man,  partaker  of  a  corruptible  nature, 
and,  therefore,  incapable  of  sustaining  a  permanent  conversation 
with  high  and  heavenly  things.  Yet  he  must,  as  far  as  possible, 
put  off  his  mortahty  and  put  on  the  likeness  of  the  divine  in- 
telligence, wliich  is  the  centre  of  the  universal  order  about  which 
and  towards  which  all  things  move. 

If  we  find  this  ideal  lacking  in  some  of  the  graces  of  those 
ethical  systems  wliich  are  associated  with  the  spiritual  reUgions, 
we  must  admit  some  counterbalancing  merits  of  no  less  import- 
ance to  Ethical  growth.  Instead  of  the  rule  of  self -repression 
we  have  the  ideal  of  expansion,  of  harmonious  self -development, 
an  ideal  which  may  on  occasion  involve  in  it  the  necessity  of 
extreme  self-sacrifice,  even  to  the  point  of  dying  for  friend  or  for 
country,  but  which  in  more  fortunate  circumstances  blossoms 
into  the  full  flower  of  human  excellence  conceived  as  the  realiza- 
tion of  many-sided  capacities,  physical,  moral,  intellectual,  and 
spiritual.  Secondly,  we  have  the  conception  that  this  ideal  is 
to  be  sought,  in  the  first  place,  in  patriotic  devotion  to  the  state 
regarded  as  a  community  of  free  citizens  existing  for  the  very 
purpose  of  glorifying  common  life  and  bringing  forth  from  it  the 
best  it  has  in  it  to  be,  an  association  that  comes  into  existence 
that  men  may  live,  but  continues  to  exist  that  men  may  five  well. 
Thirdly,  the  gifted  man  rises  above,  though  never  beyond,  this 
civic  ideal.  He  may  never  neglect  the  spiritual  mother  that  has 
borne  him,  yet  he  has  his  own  life  apart,  a  life  which  is,  in  later 
phrase,  hid  with  God,  sharing  with  him  the  spiritual  joy  of  con- 
templating nature  and  seeing  that  it  is  good,  bathed  "in  that 
content  surpassing  thought  the  Sage  in  meditation  found,  and 
walked  with  inward  glory  crowned." 
oo 


562  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

9.  While  Plato  and  Aristotle  may  be  said  to  have  continued 
and  developed  the  Socratic  condition  in  its  fulness,  different 
sides  of  the  Master's  teaching,  taken  by  themselves,  became  the 
sources  of  separate  schools.     The  hedonistic  tendency  in  Socrates 
was  developed  by  Aristippus,   and  through  him  became  the 
source  of  the  Epicurean  philosophy.     The  more  ascetic  tendency 
which  sprung  from  the  Socratic  teaching  of    self-containment 
and  the  practical  hardihood  and  moderation  of  his  life,  became 
the  central  feature  in  the  teaching  of  Antisthenes.     Here  the 
doctrine  that  virtue  is  the  essential  condition  of  happiness  is 
pushed  to  the  point  from  which,  as  we  have  seen,  Aristotle  drew 
back.     Man  is  made  in  a  fuller  sense  the  master  of  his  fate.     To 
live  in  accordance  with  virtue  is  laid  dowTi  as  the  end  of  life,  and 
it  is  the  object  of  the  wise  man  to  render  himself  independent 
of  all  external  conditions  over  wliich  he  himself  cannot  exercise 
control.     Aristotle,  in  defining  self-sufficiency,  laid  down  that 
we  cannot  apply  the  term  to  any  man  considered  by  himself, 
but  only  by  taking  into  account  his  family,  his  friends,  and, 
indeed,  his  city,  since  man  is  by  nature  a  political  animal.     To 
the  Cynic,  virtue  alone  was  self-sufficient  for  happiness,  needing 
nothing  further,  unless  it  were  a  Socratic  fortitude.     He  had 
overcome  desire.     He  would  enter  into  no  hampering  bond  with 
other  human  beings.     In  particular,  the  city  was  one  of  the  en- 
cumbrances from  wliich  the  true  philosopher  was  free.     For  a 
home,  his  tub  sufficed  for  Diogenes,  and  if  asked  of  what  state 
he  was  a  citizen,  he  replied  that  he  was  a  citizen  of  the  world — 
a  cosmopolitan.     Thus,   a  full-blown   doctrine   of  self-reliance 
makes  also  for  universalism.     The  particular  and  special  ties  by 
which  men  are  grouped  together  fall  away,  and  with  the  abstract 
assertion  of  the  human  personality  as  the  supreme  object  of  life 
and  as  ruler  of  its  own  destiny,  there  arises  also  the  conception 
of  universal  humanity  as  the  only  community  to  wliich  the 
individual  owes  an  allegiance.     The  doctrines  of  self-mastery 
and  world-citizensliip  thus  originating  \dth  the   Cynics,  were 
developed  into  the  most  influential  system  of  antiquity  by  the 
founders  of  Stoicism.     The  wise  man  of  the  Stoics  was  to  live, 
in  accordance  -svith  the  first  formula  of  the  school,  consistently. 
In  accordance  with  the  second  and  better-known  formula  he  was 
to  live  consistently  with  Nature.     But  what  was  Nature  ?     It 
was  the  universal  order  and  harmony  of  things  where  everything 
by  a  divine  overruling  providence  had  its  place,  where  everything 
which  fulfilled  its  nature  served  the  whole,  where  the  healthy 
life  of  every  part  was  a  contribution  to  the  life  of  the  whole 
organism.     The  mse  man  learnt,  in  the  first  place,  to  contain 


PHILOSOPHIC  ETHICS  563 

himself  and  to  bow  to  the  universal  order  of  things;  to  vdW,  as 
Epictetus  said,  that  each  thing  should  take  place  as  it  does  take 
place — that  is,  "  as  the  disposer  of  things  has  disposed  them  ;  and 
he  has  ordained  that  there  should  be  summer  and  ^\^nter,  plenty 
and  scarcity,  virtue  and  vice,  and  all  these  contraries  for  the  sake 
of  the  harmony  of  the  whole."  In  this  universal  scheme  of 
Nature  man  must  play  his  part  in  accordance  with  the  natural 
capacity  assigned  to  him.  He  is  the  child  of  God  in  a  special 
sense,  and  he  should  reahze,  therefore,  that  he  has  no  lowly  or 
ignoble  birth,  and  realizing  that,  he  will  have  no  lowly  or  ignoble 
thoughts  about  himself.  A  god  is  given  to  each  man,  a  deity 
(in  the  shape  of  liis  own  reason),  to  guard  over  him ;  one  that 
is  sleepless  and  incapable  of  being  deceived,  who,  if  you  shut  the 
doors  and  make  it  all  dark,  is  still  there  with  you,  and  with  liim, 
God  Himself.  "  For  you  are  not  alone,  but  God  is  with  you  and 
your  deity."  God,  in  disposing  things,  has  put  certain  things 
within  our  power,  or  rather  within  the  power  of  this  controlhng 
deity  within  us — our  reason.  Our  part  in  life  consists  in  ruling 
those  things  well,  and  in  reahzing  that  other  things  are  such 
as  we  cannot  rule.  And  since  God  is  good  he  has  put  within 
our  power  all  things  essential  to  our  own  happiness  to  possess. 
It  follows  that  external  things  which  we  cannot  control  are 
indifferent  to  us,  and  all  that  matters  to  us  is  to  preserve  our 
own  souls  untouched.  Externals  are  merely  the  material,  in 
the  use  of  which  our  own  character  manifests  itself.  "  Good 
things  are  the  virtues  and  what  appertains  to  the  virtues ;  evil 
are  the  opposite  to  these ;  indifferent  are  wealth,  health,  and 
reputation,"  He  whom  these  things  can  disturb  is  not  a  wise 
or  virtuous  man,  but  if  you  ask  who  is  the  invincible,  he  is  the 
man  who  has  put  the  world  beneath  his  feet,  whom  none  of  those 
things  which  are  independent  of  his  will  can  move  from  his 
course. 

This  self-centred  conception  of  the  wise  man  can  at  times  be 
pushed  to  the  point  of  harshness  and  coldness.  For  instance, 
in  discussing  suicide,  Epictetus  bids  the  philosopher  remain  in 
the  bodily  prison  as  long  as  reason  teUs  him,  just  as  Plato  had 
already  said,  that  he  is  placed  there  as  a  sentinel  and  must  not 
desert  his  post.  God  has  need  of  the  world  and  its  inhabitants, 
but  if  He  sounds  the  signal  as  he  did  to  Socrates,  then  the 
philosopher  should  obey  the  signaller  as  his  general.  But  in 
the  performance  of  duty,  the  feehngs  of  his  relations,  even  of 
his  mother,  are  not  to  be  taken  into  account.  It  is  not  your 
action  that  will  grieve  them,  but  just  that  which  grieves  you — 
namely,  their  own  opinion.     "  Do  you  take  av/ay  your  own 


564  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

opinion,  and  if  they  do  well  they  will  take  away  theirs,  and 

otherwise  it  will  be  on  their  o^ti  responsibihty  that  they  ^ill 
lament."  But  Stoicism  has  a  softer  and  more  social  side. 
Since  God  is  the  father  of  all,  it  follows  that  all  men  are  brothers ; 
the  slave  differs  from  the  emperor  only  by  accident  of  external 
position.  If  Epictetus  is  asked  how  one  is  to  refrain  from  anger 
-with  a  neglectful  slave,  he  vnU.  answer,  "  Slave  yourself,  will  you 
not  bear  Anth  j-our  own  brother  ?  he  has  Zeus  as  his  forefather, 
is  a  son  of  the  same  loins  as  yourself  and  the  same  descent.  .  .  . 
Do  you  not  remember  who  you  are  and  what  men  you  are  ruling, 
that  they  are  kinsmen  and  brothers  by  nature,  that  they  are 
descendants  of  Zeus  1  "  Do  you  answer — I  bought  them  ?  If 
so,  you  are  looking  "into  the  abyss,  into  the  %\Tetched  laws  of 
the  dead  and  not  to  those  of  the  gods."  Thus  the  brotherhood 
of  the  Stoic  transcends  the  gulf  bet-uixt  bond  and  free ;  equally 
it  obhterates  the  distinction  between  the  fellow-citizen  and 
stranger,^  and  the  great  and  supreme  community  is  the  society 
of  man  and  gods  from  whom  all  tilings  come.  "  The  poet  says, 
'  Dear  city  of  Cecrops,'  will  you  not  say,  dear  city  of  Zeus  ?  " 

Though  hard  Avith  himself,  the  Stoic  could  not  be  hard  with 
the  offender,  for  vice,  says  the  mild  emperor  following  Socrates, 
is  ignorance  of  the  good,  and  I  who  have  seen  good  could  not 
be  angry  Avith  the  bad  man  who  is  my  kin.  Moreover,  if  your 
father  does  wrong,  says  Epictetus,  he  suflEers  already  in  character. 
Do  not  then  wish  him  to  lose  anything  else  on  that  account. 
Even  the  false  judge  can  do  you  no  harm.  The  real  evil  of 
punishment  falls  always  upon  the  offender,  and  what  have  you 
to  do  with  the  evil  which  belongs  to  another;  if  the  judge's 
decision  is  unjust,  that  is  his  loss.  Men  are  indifferent  to  the 
Stoic,  however,  only  in  the  sense  that  their  doings  cannot  affect 
his  will,  nor  therefore  what  is  essentially  good  or  evil  to  him. 
But,  says  Marcus  Aurehus,  in  so  far  as  I  ought  to  benefit  and 
bear  with  them,  they  are  the  nearest  of  things  to  me.  Virtue, 
though  springing  from  the  individual  and  resting  on  his  personal 
wisdom  and  self-control,  is  eminently  social  in  its  manifestations. 
"  Rejoice  in  one  thing  alone  and  rest  in  it,  in  passing  from 
one  social  action  to  another  social  action  with  mindfulness  of 
God."  If  the  expressions  of  Stoicism  are  often  hard  and  lend 
themselves  at  times  to  a  certain  appearance  of  heartlessness  and 

1  Similarly  in  social  intercourse,  Epictetus,  who  represents  the  more 
rugged  side  of  Stoicism,  bids  us  prefer  goodness  to  everj'  other  consideration. 
■'  I  have  nothing  in  common  with  mj"  father  but  with  the  good  man." 
"  Are  you  so  hard  ?  "  "  Yes,  for  so  I  was  made.  .  .  .  For  this  reason, 
if  the  good  is  anything  difierent  from  the  noble  and  the  just,  father  and 
brother  and  country  and  all  things  are  gone  "   (Epict.,  iii.  3.  5). 


PHILOSOPHIC  ETHICS  565 

isolation,  in  the  gentler  handling  of  a  spirit  Hke  that  of  Marcus 
the  social  side  becomes  the  dominant  feature,  and  we  learn  that 
if  a  man  is  to  ask  nothing  for  himself,  j-et  he  is  gratefully  to 
acknowledge  every  good  gift  that  he  receives  from  all  around 
him,  and  to  be  mlhng  to  give  his  all  to  others .^ 

10.  But  it  was  not  so  much  the  gentler  social  virtues  as  the 
fundamental  obhgations  wliich  bind  man  to  his  fellows  that 
interested  the  Stoics.  Deep  as  was  the  mark  left  on  the  v\orld 
by  their  self -containment,  it  was  not  the  greatest  or  most  lasting 
effect  of  their  teaching.  It  was  at  the  point  where  moral  philo- 
sophy touches  the  theory  of  law  and  government  that  their 
influence  was  widest  and  most  abiding.  For  it  is  to  them  more 
than  to  any  other  school  of  thought  that  the  world  owes  the 
conception  of  an  ethical  ideal  standing  above  the  wills  of  legis- 
lators, whether  despotic  or  popular,  as  a  standard  to  which  thej^ 
ought  to  conform.  Tliis  ideal  took  shape  in  the  conception  of 
a  Law  of  Nature  which  stood  above  all  human  conventions  and 
held  up  a  standard  to  which  state  law  ought  to  conform.  The 
conception  of  Nature  was  not  introduced  into  Ethics  by  the 
Stoics.  We  have  seen  that  at  the  outset  the  fundamental 
problem  of  conduct  was  raised  in  the  form  of  the  question, 
"  Are  justice  and  the  other  virtues  natural  or  merely  conven- 
tional ?  Are  they  founded  on  nature  or  the  products  of  human 
agreement,  which  may  be  relegated  at  will  to  the  lumber-room 
of  disused  ideas  ?  "  We  have  seen  how  Plato  undertook  to  prove 
that  they  were  founded  on  nature,  and  did  so  by  showing  that 
they  rest  on  the  constitution  of  man  and  of  human  society.  So 
far  "nature  "  appears  as  the  basis  of  morals.  In  Aristotle  it 
begins  to  serve  as  a  standard  of  custom.  At  least  in  regard  to 
justice,  Aristotle  recognized  that  there  must  be  some  more  ideal 
and  scientific  standard  than  that  embodied  in  the  written  and 
unwritten  law  and  custom  of  the  Greek  states.  Rules  of  justice 
as  embodied  in  law  were  changeable  and  varied  from  place  to 
place,  while  that  which  is  natural  is  the  same  everywhere.  But 
though  natural  laws  change,  says  Aristotle,  there  must  be  one 
state,  one  constitution,  which  is  everj^where  natural — namely, 
that  wliich  is  the  best  :  and  there  must  be  one  set  of  laws  every- 
where natural — namely,  those  wliich  the  best  state  would  adopt. 
But  the  law  of  nature,  after  all,  is  an  incident  in  Aristotle's  treat- 
ment of  justice ;  with  the  Stoics  it  becomes  the  central  principle. 

'  In  the  above  references  to  Epictetus  and  Marcus  Aurelius  I  have 
freely  used  Mr.  Long's  translations,  without,  however,  always  adliering  to 
his  words. 


566  MORALS  IN   EVOLUTION 

It  appeared  to  supply,  and  in  its  degree  it  did  supply,  that 
systematic  conception  of  a  moral  standard  in  which  they  found 
earlier  theories  lacking.  For  if  the  older  tlnnkers  had  taught 
that  man's  true  happiness  lies  in  the  practice  of  virtue,  they  had 
given  little  attention  to  the  question  why  certain  classes  of  action 
are  considered  virtuous.  They  took  over  in  the  main  the  current 
ideas  which  they  found  as  to  the  particular  virtues,  idealizing  and 
sometimes  supplementing  and  correcting  them,  no  doubt,  but 
not  upon  the  whole  seeking  for  any  first  principle  by  wliich  the 
value  of  these  traditional  rules  might  be  tested.  Now  such  a 
principle  the  Stoics  conceived  that  they  had  found  in  the  law 
prescribed  by  Nature  itself  to  man.  This  could  be  discovered — 
such,  at  least,  seems  to  be  the  implied  process  of  thought — by 
considering  how  far  the  rules  of  conduct  which  we  actually  recog- 
nize are  due  to  human  institutions,  and  what  would  remain  if 
we  conceive  them  done  away  with.  Proceeding  on  this  line  of 
thought,  for  instance,  it  is  easily  recognized  that  such  an  institu- 
tion as  slavery  is  not  "  natural."  It  is  an  institution  of  men,  for 
without  such  institution  who  would  enslave  himself  ?  So  again 
with  all  other  inequality  of  rights.  By  law  one  man  may  be 
given  privileges  over  another,  but  take  away  the  law  and  what 
privilege  could  remain  ?  On  the  other  hand,  if  we  consider  such 
a  matter  as  the  fulfilment  of  obligations,  the  obligation  itself, 
we  may  say,  is  the  result  of  a  compact  made  by  men,  yet  we 
feel  in  ourselves  a  "  natural  "  impulse  to  fulfil  it,  even  without 
legal  compulsion,  and  so  to  keep  our  contracts  is  a  part  of 
"  natural  "  law.  Reasoning  on  such  lines  as  these,  from  their 
conception  of  Nature  as  one  Kosmos,  animated  by  One  God,  the 
father  of  all  mankind,  the  Stoics  arrived  at  the  idea  of  a  Law 
of  Nature  prescribing  the  freedom,  equality  and  brotherhood  of 
mankind,  overriding  all  distinctions  of  class,  and  race,  and 
nation,  prescribing  good  faith  and  mutual  obligation,  even  when 
there  was  no  law.  This  was  no  empty  theory,  but  an  active 
principle,  influencing  the  practical  legislation  of  the  great  Roman 
lawyers.^  The  freedom,  equality  and  brotherhood  of  man,  the 
inherent  injustice  involved  in  distinctions  of  class  and  of  nation- 
ality, the  original  sanctity  of  contracts,  and,  as  a  consequence, 
the  recognition  of  moral  obligations  to  those  to  whom  one  is 
bound  by  no  law — such  ideas  as  these  originate  with  the  con- 
ception of  a  law  which  Nature  lays  down  for  man,  and  is,  there- 
fore, independent  of  convention  and  superior  to  the  enactments 
of  kings.     We  have  already  seen  the  influence  which  this  con- 

^  See   quotations   from    the   stoically    trained   jurisconsults   in   Lecky, 
History  of  European  Morals,  i.  2i)5,  29G. 


PHILOSOPHIC  ETHICS  567 

ception  had  in  mitigating  the  hardships  of  Roman  slavery. 
We  trace  it  in  the  successive  extensions  of  the  franchise,  which 
broke  down  the  barriers  between  conquering  Rome  and  the 
subject  provincials.  We  may  trace  it  once  more  in  the  humane 
laws  which  broke  up  the  barbaric  supremacy  of  the  paterfamilias. 
Indeed,  "  there  were  few  departments  into  which  the  catholic 
and  humane  principles  of  Stoicism  were  not  in  some  degree 
carried."  In  the  mind  of  the  best  of  the  emperors,  Stoical 
principle  kept  alive  the  ideal  of  a  "  constitution  of  equal  laws 
ordered  in  accordance  with  equality  and  equal  freedom  of 
speech,  and  a  kingship  honouring  above  all  things  the  freedom 
of  those  who  are  ruled."  Such  an  ideal  was  unattainable  in 
the  second  century  after  Christ,  but  that  it  should  have  been 
placed  on  record  by  the  absolute  master  of  the  Roman  world  as 
his  conception  of  the  principle  by  which  he  would  govern  him- 
self, is  not  the  least  remarkable  testimony  to  the  strength  of 
the  Stoical  creed.  The  law  of  Nature  was  not,  as  we  shall  see 
more  fully,  in  the  end  an  adequate  formula  for  the  moral  standard, 
but  it  was  a  step  in  that  direction.  It  was  an  assertion  that  such 
a  principle  could  be  found,  and  it  recognized  that  actual  codes 
deviate  from  the  principle  in  consequence  of  what  is  arbitrary 
and  accidental  in  the  laAvs  of  their  growth. 

Greek  ethics  thus  bequeathed  two  great  contributions  to  the 
solution  of  the  ethical  problem.  In  its  earlier  stage  it  founded 
moral  obhgation  on  the  well-being  of  the  individual.  It  taught 
that  virtue  was  not  an  emptying  but  a  fulfilment  of  the  person- 
ality. It  reconciled  individual  self-development  with  legal, 
law-abiding  citizenship  in  a  free  city  state.  In  its  later  stages, 
when  the  old  civic  life  was  breaking  up  and  the  problem  taking 
new  shape,  it  laid  the  foundations  of  a  universahst  ethics  by 
conceiving  an  ideal  standard  of  conduct  applicable  to  all  man- 
kind, not  subordinate  but  superior  to  state  law,  an  ideal  to  which 
social  as  well  as  individual  custom  should  be  made  to  conform. 
In  neither  of  these  directions,  however,  was  its  analysis  final. 
How  it  was  pushed  further  by  modern  thought  we  have  now  to 
inquire. 


CHAPTER  VII 

MODERN     ETHICS 

1.  Th"E  tradition  of  Greek  ethics  did  not  wholly  disappear 
with  the  decay  of  the  classical  civilization.  In  part  it  was 
incorporated  in  Roman  law,  and  if  buried  with  it  for  a  time, 
shared  in  its  revival  from  the  twelfth  century  onwards.  In 
part  it  coalesced  with  the  leading  ideas  of  Christianity,  and 
was  made  subservient  to  the  exposition  of  Christian  doctrine. 
Particularly,  as  we  shall  see  more  fully  later,  the  idea  of  a  Law 
of  Nature  has  a  continuous  history  from  the  "  common  reason  " 
of  Herachtus  and  the  "natural  justice"  of  Aristotle,  through 
the  Roman  jurisprudence  and  the  Canon  Law  to  Grotius  and 
Hobbes,  and  from  them  to  Locke  and  Rousseau.  Modern 
Moral  Philosophy  starts  with  the  wisdom  of  the  Greeks  as  its 
working  capital.  But  from  the  first  it  had  to  deal  with  a  more 
complex  situation,  a  more  tangled  confhct  of  claims  upon  the 
conscience,  a  wider  apparent  fissure  between  the  individual  life 
and  the  social  order. 

The  rise  of  a  world  religion,  -svith  claims  on  the  spiritual  life 
which  were  by  no  means  easy  to  reconcile  with  any  political 
authority,  resulted  in  mediseval  Europe  in  a  separation  of  the 
Spiritual  and  Temporal  powers  and  the  erection  of  distinct 
and  frequently  opposed  authorities,  each  claiming  the  strict 
allegiance  of  the  individual.  The  Reformation  threw  these  two 
powers  in  many  countries  into  prolonged  and  violent  antagonism , 
and  the  problem  of  conflicting  duties  to  king  and  country  on 
the  one  hand,  and  to  Christ  and  the  Church,  or  to  God  and 
conscience,  on  the  other,  was  raised  in  its  most  acute  form. 
Such  a  conflict  could  leave  neither  political  nor  spiritual  authority 
unimpaired,  and  where  the  Greek  philosophers  had  something 
to  appeal  to  which  all  men  were  in  a  measure  ready  to  recognize 
in  the  state  and  the  traditional  laws  and  customs  which  the 
state  maintained,  the  first  problem  of  modern  philosophy  was 
to  find  a  higher  authority  to  which  either  State  or  Church  might 
appeal.  There  could  no  longer  in  thinking  minds  be  any  question 
of  accepting  either  of  the  rivals  as  ultimate  and  supreme  arbiter 
of  right  and  wrong.    Thus  deprived  of  an  unquestioned  external 

568 


•    MODERN  ETHICS  669 

authority,  men  were  thrown  back,  in  the  jEirst  instance,  on  their 
interpretation  of  the  revealed  Word  of  God,  but  as  tlio  principal 
conflict  had  turned  from  the  first  on  questions  of  interpretation, 
and  as  experience  had  shown  how  the  plainest  meaning  could  be 
wrested  into  an  ambiguous  sense  or  the  most  categorical  mandate 
erected  on  the  basis  of  a  forced  interpretation,  it  was  plain  that 
revelation  alone  could  supply  no  single  and  unquestioned  standard 
whereby  doubts  might  be  removed.  Hence  the  logic  of  facts 
drove  men  to  the  admission  of  private  judgment,  and  the  decay 
of  a  universally  recognized  authority  forced  the  thinker  to  fall 
back  on  the  individual,  and  to  find  in  liis  conscience,  his  instincts, 
his  reason,  possibly  in  his  merely  selfish  necessities,  but  at  any 
rate  somewhere  in  his  "nature  "  as  a  human  being,  a  point  of 
departure  for  theories  of  moral  conduct  and  the  social  order. 

This  was  in  a  sense  to  repeat  what  the  Greek  thinkers  had 
done  when  they  found  a  basis  of  political  order  and  social  justice 
in  the  moral  nature  common  to  all  human  beings.  But  the 
whole  historical  situation  made  it  impossible  for  modern  thought 
to  offer  so  simple  a  solution  as  that  wliich  had  satisfied  the 
Greeks.  The  conflict  between  law  and  conscience,  pubUc 
authority  and  private  judgment,  had  been  raised  in  too  acute  a 
form.  The  Greeks  might  be  satisfied  with  the  proof  that,  man 
])eing  a  social  animal,  his  duties  as  a  citizen  were  a  necessary 
part  of  the  life  that  was  best  for  himself,  and  so  conclude  to  a 
close  identification  of  private  and  public  welfare.  But  to  the 
modern  it  was  not  merely  self-interest,  but  conscience  which 
often  clashed  with  authority.  Wliile  to  the  Greek  there  was 
one  form  of  political  association  which  was  obviously  best,  to  the 
modern,  particularly  at  the  period  of  the  rise  of  modern  ethics 
in  the  seventeenth  century,  it  might  be  said  with  more  truth 
that  there  was  no  form  of  political  association  open  at  all,  but 
only  submission  to  some  form  of  political  despotism.  The  cor- 
porate life  of  the  Middle  Ages  was  everywhere  in  an  advanced 
stage  of  decay.  Political  virtue  meant  for  the  many,  not  "the 
capacity  to  rule  and  be  ruled  with  a  view  to  the  best  life,"  but 
submission  to  the  powers  that  were.  The  process  of  erecting  a 
true  commonwealth  under  modern  conditions  had  not  passed 
the  experimental  stage,  nor  had  the  experiments  been  wholly 
encouraging.  It  would  have  been  to  assume  too  much  to  lay 
down  that  public  and  private  well-being  were  two  sides  of  the 
same  thing.  It  had  to  be  recognized  that  the  individual  might 
have  a  life  of  his  own,  and  that  both  from  interest  and  from 
conscience  he  might  have  motives  bringing  him  into  conflict 
with  the  interests  of  state  as  interpreted  by  the  ruler. 


570  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

Thus  the  antithesis  of  the  individual  and  society  was  more 
deeply  cut  than  in  the  Greek  days.  The  claims  made  by  the 
moral  law  were  more  exacting,  and  in  some  measure  consisted 
in  ideals  to  which  the  mass  of  men  have  never  been  brought  to 
render  much  more  than  lip  service.  It  was  one  thing  to  agree 
that  true  well-being  for  the  individual  lay  in  the  exercise  of 
qualities  which  all  really  admired,  and  outside  the  discussions 
of  the  sceptic's  lecture-room  treated  in  practice  as  the  essential 
equipment  of  a  gentleman.  It  was  quite  another  tiling  to  proffer 
the  same  justification  for  duties  wliich  few  in  their  hearts  re- 
garded as  more  than  formulas  which  might  mean  something  to 
an  anchorite,  but  had  little  living  relation  to  the  affairs  of  ordinary 
life.  Not  only  is  the  modern  moral  code  harder,  but  modern 
life  is  more  complex  and  its  ramifications  more  widespread. 
Pohtical  duty,  to  instance  a  single  point,  may  impose  on  the 
citizen  of  a  great  kingdom,  and  still  more  on  one  of  a  world 
empire,  consideration  for  those  whom  he  never  has  seen  or  will 
see,  and  the  kind  of  political  virtue  so  called  upon  is  far  more 
difficult  to  evolve  and  sustain  in  active  being  than  the  public 
spirit  of  a  compact  community  where  every  one  knows  his  neigh- 
bours, and  the  consequence  of  a  public  wrong  falls  at  once  and 
manifestly,  if  not  on  the  very  men  who  have  voted  for  it,  then  on 
neighbours  Avhose  sufferings  they  actually  witness.  Thus  it  is 
owing  partly  to  an  advance  in  thought,  partly  to  a  change  in  the 
ethical  situation,  that  in  modern  philosophy  the  Greek  antithesis 
between  the  real  and  the  apparent  good,  the  choice  respectively 
of  reason  and  desire,  deepens  into  the  opposition  of  duty  and 
interest,  and  morality  presents  itself,  not  so  much  as  a  source  of 
happiness  which  every  enlightened  man  must  eagerly  choose  for 
liimself,  but  rather  as  a  law  imposed  on  human  nature  to  the 
cheerful  performance  of  which  it  may  by  an  effort  attain,  but 
which  compels  by  authority,  rather  tlian  appeals  by  inherent 
attractiveness.  Duty  and  self-sacrifice  become  central  concep- 
tions of  ethical  theory.  At  the  same  time,  since  conduct  cannot 
have  moral  worth  unless  it  is  unconstrained,  the  sanction  of 
this  law  had  to  be  found  within  human  nature  itself,  and  even 
in  a  sense  witliin  the  nature  of  each  individual,  who  must  at  least 
adopt  of  his  own  choice  the  law  by  which  he  is  compelled  uni- 
formly to  consider  other  interests  than  his  own  and  may  be  con- 
strained to  sacrifice  all  that  is  dear  to  him.  Thus  the  modern 
world  has  the  ancient  paradox  before  it  in  a  yet  sharper  form. 
For  though  it  may  be  said  that  true  Avell-being  lies  for  us,  as  for 
the  ancients,  in  well-doing,  and  though  this  solution  is  occasion- 
ally brought  up  afresh,  yet  it  fails  to  the  modern  mind  to  be  more 


MODERN  ETHICS  571 

than  a  re -statement  of  the  problem  to  be  solved,  since  that  well- 
being  which  was  an  undivided  conception  for  the  Greeks  has 
been  analyzed  for  us  into  the  Happiness  which  a  man  experi- 
ences -vWthin  his  own  consciousness,  and  the  excellence  which 
another  may  praise  and  admire  in  him,  but  which  may  have 
brought  him  a  heavy  balance  of  sorrow.  For  similar  reasons 
the  Greek  axiom  that  every  man  seeks  the  good,  though  useful 
in  its  place,  can  hardly  avail  to  solve  an  antithesis  which  derives 
its  whole  point  from  the  frequent  conflict  of  moral  goodness 
with  the  good  things  for  which  our  nature  craves. 

2.  Thus  modern  systems  have  moved  between  the  poles  of  an 
authoritative  moral  law  and  an  unconstrained  self -direction  of 
human  nature,  and  the  attempt  to  suppress  either  term  of  the 
antithesis  brings  about  its  Nemesis  in  the  movement  of  thought. 
The  ball  is  set  rolling  by  Hobbes,  in  whose  system  the  element 
of  law,  identified  here  with  state  law,  becomes  merely  derivative. 
By  the  "law  of  nature,"  as  we  find  it  at  this  stage,  each  man 
seeks  his  own  preservation,  but  since  in  the  correlative  "  state  of 
nature,"  where  every  man's  hand  is  against  every  man.  the  Hfe 
of  all  is  or  would  be  "  sohtary,  poor,  nasty,  brutish,  and  short," 
men  agree  together  tacitly  or  expressly  to  confer  the  plenitude 
of  their  natural  rights  upon  a  king  who  shall  rule  over  them 
and  keep  them  from  mutual  wrongs.  This  is  the  social  contract 
which  men  make  and  maintain,  each  for  the  sake  of  his  own 
preservation,  since  its  persistent  breach  would  reduce  society 
to  primseval  chaos.  Thus,  in  the  name  of  the  Law  of  Nature, 
Hobbes  reduced  morality  to  egoism  as  its  ultimate  basis.  But 
in  so  doing  he  provoked  the  retort  that  his  account  of  our  nature 
does  not  correspond  with  the  facts,  and  a  succession  of  writers 
lay  stress  on  the  several  social  elements  in  human  nature,  while 
Butler,  the  form  of  whose  theory  is  still  determined  by  the 
questions  set  by  Hobbes,  elaborates  a  complete  theory  of  the 
natural  constitution  of  man  in  which  conscience  is ,  by  the  very 
law  of  the  constitution  and  with  the  approval  of  self-love  itself, 
established  as  the  authoritative  guide.  Yet  Butler  in  the  end 
fails  doubly,  not  only  because  he  has  no  provision  for  the  actual 
variations  in  the  deliverance  of  conscience,  but  also  because, 
with  a  backwash  of  feeling  from  the  currents  of  the  time,  he  ends 
by  admitting  self-love  to  a  supremacy  wliich  would  be  fatal  to 
his  whole  argument  if  he  had  not  future  rewards  and  punish- 
ments to  fall  back  on.  But  to  fall  back  on  the  supernatural 
was,  in  effect,  to  abandon  tlie  position  and  leave  the  way  open 
for  other  lines  of  thought. 


572  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

The  most  vigorous  of  these,  in  England,  was  the  attempt  to 
concihate  the  egoistic  and  social  sentiments  on  the  lines  of  what 
was  later  known  as  Utilitarianism.  Partly  through  the  analysis 
of  moral  judgments  (as  in  Hume's  Enquiry),  partly  by  the 
analysis  of  desire  (as  in  Hartley  and  the  Mills),  the  position  was 
reached  that  the  good  is  universally  the  pleasurable.  But  on 
this  at  once  arose  the  fundamental  question,  Wliose  good  and 
whose  pleasure  are  to  be  considered  ?  Mine  by  me  and  yours 
by  you,  or  that  of  all  men  by  both  of  us  ?  In  this  statement  of 
the  question  the  antithesis  of  duty  and  interest  was  resolved 
into  that  between  others  and  self,  and  assumed  a  particularly 
acute  form.  For  the  psychological  proof  that  pleasure  is  the 
object  of  desire  pointed  to  egoism.  It  was  my  pleasure  which 
my  desire  was  supposed  to  contemplate.  But  the  thesis  that 
the  pleasurable  is  the  good,  once  granted,  was  applied  to  society 
as  a  whole.  The  happiness  of  all  men  was  laid  down  as  the 
standard  of  action,  and  its  promotion  urged  (as  by  the  younger 
Mill)  as  a  duty.  The  reconciliation  between  these  somewhat 
contradictory  positions  was  sought  in  the  sympathy  and  social 
feehngs  of  mankind  whether  natural  (Adam  Smith)  or  built  up 
on  a  more  egoistic  basis  by  a  process  of  association  (Hartley  and 
James  Mill).  Through  these  feelings  a  man  might  come  to 
identify  his  pleasure  and  pain  with  those  of  others,  and  de- 
liberately sacrifice  all  purely  personal  happiness  for  the  pleasure 
of  serving  his  fellow-men,  or  to  avoid  the  pain  of  remorse  con- 
sequent on  a  betrayal.  Taken  at  its  best,  hoAvever,  this  explana- 
tion gives  no  adequate  account  of  rational  obligation.  It  may 
be  said  to  show  that  self-sacrifice  is  possible,  and  to  offer  an 
account  of  how  the  feeling  of  duty  arises  in  the  individual ;  but 
it  does  not  make  clear  in  what  precise  sense  we  can  tell  the  man 
whose  sympathies  are  not  sufficiently  developed  to  make  him 
prefer  another's  happiness  to  his  own,  that  he  "  ought "  to  do 
so,  that  this  is  his  "duty,"  to  perform  which  is  "right  "  and 
to  neglect  it  "  wrong."  Do  these  terms  simply  mean  that  this 
is  the  course  of  conduct  which  we  prefer  and  which,  if  he  felt 
as  we  do,  he  would  also  prefer,  or  do  they  mean  that  the  more 
social  conduct  is  intrinsically  preferable  whether  he  or  we  happen 
to  prefer  it  or  not  ? 

If  with  the  last  of  the  great  Utilitarians  we  adopt  the  latter 
view,  we  impinge  upon  the  line  of  thought  which  in  the  form 
at  one  time  of  Intuitionism,  in  another  of  Rationalism,  has  run 
its  course  throughout  modern  philosophj^  from  the  Cambridge 
Platonists  to  our  own  day.  We  need  not  here  refer  to  earlier 
phases  of  this  form  of  thought,  for  rationalism  took  upon  itself 


MODERN  ETHICS  573 

a  new  being  in  the  Kantian  theory.  To  the  conception  of 
morahty  as  a  law  Kant  gave  the  strongest  expression  that  it 
has  ever  received.  For  him  the  very  assertion  of  a  moral  judg- 
ment implies  the  existence  of  a  law  binding  on  all  men  as  such, 
irrespective  of  persons  and  of  consequences,  and  duty  is  duty 
only  when  done  for  the  fulfilment  of  this  law  and  for  no  ex- 
traneous motive.  But  again,  since  in  morality  man  must  be 
free,  it  is  only  man  himself  who  can  impose  this  law  upon  him- 
self. He  is  at  once  sovereign  and  subject,  sovereign  as  a  rational 
being,  a  member  of  the  spiritual  world,  which  underhes  pheno- 
mena ;  subject  as  a  phenomenon  existing  in  time  and  space, 
conditioned  by  those  categories  of  substance  and  causation  by 
which  alone  a  phenomenon  can  exist.  As  rational  he  prescribes 
to  himself  a  law  which,  as  a  being  in  the  world  of  sense,  he  may 
obey  or  disobey.  If  he  were  pure  reason,  he  would  conform  to 
law  without  effort  and  be  perfect.  If  he  were  pure  sense,  he 
could  know  no  law.  Partaking  of  both  natures,  he  is  a  respon- 
sible being,  the  subject,  but  not  always  the  obedient  subject, 
of  a  moral  law. 

In  defining  morahty  as  law  and  in  making  it  a  law  set  by 
man  to  himself,  Kant  is  in  the  centre  of  modern  ethical  thought. 
But  the  peculiar  setting  of  his  doctrine  was  in  part  determined 
by  the  transitional  character  of  the  Kantian  metaphysics,  and 
in  part  by  certain  exaggerations  natural  at  the  outset  in  the 
statement  of  all  that  a  law  implies.  Kant's  critics  have  pointed 
out,  for  example,  that  a  rational  law  camiot  disregard  circum- 
stances or  consequences,  as  Kant  would  have  it  do.  On  the 
contrary,  if  the  practical  reason  in  man  meant  anything,  it 
meant  a  capacity  to  be  guided  by  ends  and  to  direct  action 
thereto,  and  ends  could  not  be  served  without  taking  changes  of 
circumstance  and  all  manner  of  consequences  into  account. 
Hence,  if  there  was  to  be  a  rational  law  binding  on  all  human 
beings  as  such  without  regard  to  any  extraneous  considerations, 
it  must  be  a  law  binding  them  to  permanent  regard  for  some 
universal  end.  Again,  those  who  stand  nearest  to  the  direct 
line  of  descent  from  Kant  in  modern  Etliics  admit  that  Reason 
was  misconceived  when  it  was  placed  in  fundamental  opposition 
to  every  emotional  impulse.  Reason,  on  its  practical  as  on  its 
theoretic  side,  is  that  which  makes  for  coherence,  connectedness, 
harmony.  It  forms  experience  into  a  connected  whole,  and  it 
condemns  as  irrational  only  that  idea  which  will  not  fit  into  the 
whole.  On  the  ethical  side  it  is  that  which  makes  for  unity  and 
coherence  among  the  different  and  often  jarring  elements  of  our 
nature,  and  it  is  to  be  understood  accordingly,  not  as  an  authority 


574  MORALS   IN   EVOLUTION 

above  and  outside  all  feelings,  emotions,  sentiments  and  what- 
ever else  may  impel  us  to  action,  but  as  a  principle  working 
within  them  towards  harmony.  If  under  the  name  of  feeling 
we  include  all  the  interest  we  take  in  action  and  the  ends  and 
outcome  of  action,  then  reason  undoubtedly  rests  on  a  basis  of 
feehng ;  but  while  as  irrational  beings  we  feel  things  imperfectly, 
confusedly  and  inconsistently,  so  as  to  be  led  hither  and  thither 
by  the  stress  of  impulse,  the  work  of  reason  is  to  gather  up  all 
feelings  into  one  steady  movement  of  will-power,  to  give  them 
unity  or  at  least  consistency  of  direction,  and  so  achieve  for  us 
a  life  that  is  at  one  with  itself.  Such  an  order  is  a  rational 
order,  because  its  component  parts,  instead  of  conflicting, 
support  and  further  one  another. 

If  the  work  of  reason  could  be  so  completed  that  every  impulse 
within  us  fitted  in  of  itself  as  part  of  such  an  order,  we  should 
have  what  Kant  called  the  perfect  will  and  the  sense  of  duty 
would  cease.  But  because  the  work  of  reason  is  never  complete 
our  nature  is  never  wholly  at  one  with  itself,  there  is  strife 
within  us.  In  part  our  impulses  are  harmonized  and  set  in  one 
definite  direction,  and  it  is  here  that  we  feel  that  our  true  self 
lies.  In  part  they  still  rebel  and  chafe  against  their  limits,  and 
then  arises  the  feehng  of  constraint  and  of  moral  obligation. 
Thus  our  nature  in  a  sense  lays  a  law  upon  itself,  and  this  law 
is  a  rational  law,  and  yet  its  foundation  is  in  feehng  and  its 
purpose  is  the  satisfaction  of  the  permanent  bent  of  our  nature. 
These  and  similar  criticisms  urged  by  the  Ideahst  thinkers  who 
claim  descent  from  Kant  fall  into  line  with  the  metaphysical 
criticisms  by  which  they  sought  to  overcome  the  duahsm  of  the 
Critical  philosophy  and  to  depict  the  entire  process  of  things  as 
a  working  out  or  reafization  of  Spirit.  In  this  way  of  thinking 
the  famihar  ethical  antitheses  tend  to  be  regarded  as  apparent 
i-ather  than  real.  The  opposition  between  duty  and  interest  or 
reason  and  desire  is  resolved  into  that  between  the  real  and 
permanent  self  and  the  illusory  or  temporary  impulse.  The 
very  distinction  between  self  and  others  disappears  in  the  con- 
ception of  a  Universal  Self  which  is  the  underlying  reahty  of 
each,  and  whose  movement  towards  realization  constitutes  the 
World  process. 

Apart  from  metaphysical  controversies,  the  ethical  rock  lying 
always  in  the  track  of  this  movement  of  thought  is  the  idea  of 
Personahty.  Idealism  sets  out  to  overcome  the  separateness 
of  individuals,  but  often  seems  to  be  only  too  successful,  and 
to  destroy  what  it  ought  to  explain.  Philosophy,  then,  has  still 
to  find  a  satisfactory  method  of  stating  the  theory  of  moral 


MODERN  ETHICS  676 

obligation  in  terms  which  do  full  justice  at  once  to  individual 
personality  and  to  the  spiritual  unity  which  binds  men  to  the 
service  of  the  common  good.  I  will  endeavour  to  state  as  briefly 
as  possible  the  conclusion  to  which,  in  my  own  view,  the  course 
of  thought,  as  shown  in  the  considerations  here  just  touched 
upon,  seems  to  point. 

3.  As  to  the  general  conditions  of  the  problem,  any  theory 
which  recognizes  an  obligation  in  ethics  must  admit  that  there 
are  actions  which,  if  a  man  does  not  perform  them  with  his 
whole  heart,  he  yet  feels  constrained  to  perform.  So  far  we 
have  obligation  as  a  psychological  fact,  explain  it  how  we  may. 
But  further,  a  rationalist  theory  of  ethics  maintains  that  this 
constraint,  to  be  of  a  "  moral  "  nature,  must  be  quite  distinct 
from  any  pressure  of  external  sanction,  i.  e.  it  must  proceed  from 
human  nature,  and  so,  as  Kant  showed,  be  imposed  by  each  man 
upon  himself.  But  none  the  less,  thirdly,  if  it  is  to  be  some- 
thing more  than  a  psychological  fact — a  mere  expression  for  the 
ultimate  preference  for  one  course  of  conduct  over  another — it 
must  also  be  "  objective,"  i.  e.  it  must  hold  good  for  you  and  for 
me  whether  you  or  I  ultimately  acquiesce  in  it  or  not.  It  is 
the  prima  facie  opposition  of  these  two  last  points  which  con- 
stitutes the  apparent  paradox  and  the  real  difficulty  of  moral 
obligation.  The  moral  law  which  I  recognize  must  be  some- 
thing wliich  I  adopt  as  a  law  binding  on  myself,  and  in  that 
sense  subjective.  Yet  it  must  be  a  law  which  binds  me,  even 
though  I  do  not  adopt  it,  and  in  that  sense  objective. 

The  Greeks  formulated  this  problem  in  the  shape  of  the 
contrast  between  my  own  good  and  that  of  others  (the  dWorpiov 
aya66v),  and  solved  it  (Ethics,  ix.  8)  by  the  thesis  that  my  real 
good  was  the  good  of  my  real  self,  that  this  was  the  reason  that 
is  in  me,  and  that  reason  might  tell  me  to  sacrifice  the  apparent 
good  which  lay  in  the  satisfaction  of  my  lower  desires  and  satisfy 
my  real  self  by  serving  others.  In  sum,  in  morals  as  in  all 
conduct  I  seek  my  own  good,  but  as  a  moral  man  I  judge  truly 
that  my  good  is  to  secure  the  good  of  others.  The  Kantian 
solution  starts  from  a  similar  antithesis  of  reason  and  desire,  but 
rests  on  a  profounder  analysis  of  the  moral  judgment  and  of 
the  whole  distinction  between  the  objective  and  the  subjective. 
To  Kant,  morality  is  subjective  in  that  it  is  a  law  which  I  freely 
adopt  as  my  own,  which  proceeds  therefore  from  my  own  nature. 
It  is  objective  in  that  it  expresses  a  rational  order  which  1 
apprehend  as  a  rational  being,  and  wliich  I  disobey  only  when 
and  in  so  far  as  I  am  also  an  irrational  being.     The  principle 


676  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

underlying  the  solution  is  the  peculiarly  Kantian  thesis  that  the 
objective  is  the  rational,  and,  if  this  principle  be  admitted,  the 
antithesis  between  subjective  and  objective  ceases  to  be  an 
antithesis  between  something  that  proceeds  from  within  and 
some  tiling  that  proceeds  from  without.  The  contrast  which  the 
terms  henceforward  express,  lies  between  that  which  rests  on 
the  caprice,  the  inclination,  the  erroneous  or  partial  judgment 
of  the  individual,  and  that  which  must  commend  itself  to  all 
men  in  so  far  as  they  are  guided  by  the  rational  element  within 
them. 

The  problem,  then,  being  re-stated,  the  question  whether 
morahty  can  be  regarded  as  a  matter  of  obhgation  resolves 
itself  into  the  question  of  finding  rational  grounds  for  the  moral 
judgment.  Now  if  we  seek  for  such  ground  outside  the  moral 
order  we  are  at  once  convicted  of  the  attempt  to  find  a  non- 
moral  justification  for  morahty.  The  rationalist,  then,  who 
stands  by  a  moral  obhgation  must  seek  it  in  the  content  or  char- 
acter of  the  moral  order  itself.  He  must  ask  himself  whether 
the  moral  order  is  a  rational  order,  and  he  must  determine  the 
question  by  applying  the  same  tests  of  rationahty  wliich  he 
would  use  in  any  other  intellectual  problem.  It  is,  indeed,  ob- 
jected to  tliis  test  that  the  moral  judgment  does  not,  like  the 
judgment  which  relates  to  the  physical  order,  state  a  matter  of 
fact,  but  rather  imposes  a  command.  We  might  accept  the 
objection  without  fundamentally  altering  the  test  to  be  used. 
For  orders  issued  may  be  intelligible  or  unintelligible,  con- 
sistent or  inconsistent.  We  can  compare  them  one  with  another 
and  see  how  they  stand  when  regarded  as  a  totahty,  and,  as 
we  shall  clearly  see  when  the  tests  of  rationahty  are  passed  in 
review,  we  can  apply  these  tests  to  them  as  readily  as  to  any 
other  body  of  thought.  But  further,  the  rationalist  will  not 
wholly  admit  that  the  moral  judgment  merely  issues  an  order 
and  does  not  state  a  truth.  On  the  contrary,  it  either  asserts 
or  implies  that  one  course  is  "right,"  or  "good,"  or  "better" 
than  another,  and  in  so  doing  it  appears  to  be  founded  on  real 
relations  of  tilings,  and  as  such  subject  to  the  test  apphcable  to 
all  judgments  which  claim  to  be  valid  and  to  deal  with  reality. 

Now  the  validity  of  any  judgment  can  only  be  tested  or 
measured  by  another  judgment  independently  formed  but 
bearing  on  the  same  point.  If  the  first  judgment  is  corrobo- 
rated by  the  second,  we,  so  far,  consider  it  valid.  Now  the 
second  judgment  in  turn  may  demand  corroboration.  No  final 
test  of  validity  can  be  attained  until  we  have  exhausted  all 
the  points  of  view  from  which  a  given  order  of  reality  can  be 


MODERN  ETHICS  677 

approached.  At  this  point  the  system  of  connected  judgments 
so  formed  is  vahd,  not  in  view  of  any  further  judgment  founded 
on  some  outside  source,  for  ex  hypotJiesi  no  such  outside  judg- 
ment remains  to  be  formed,  but  in  virtue  of  its  internal  coher- 
ence. Thus  the  vaHdity  of  a  single  judgment  depends  on  its 
place  within  a  system  of  judgments,  the  vaKditj^  of  the  system 
on  its  internal  coherence,  the  fact  that  it  is  built  up  of  judg- 
ments which  not  only  do  not  conflict,  but  maintain  and  necessi- 
tate one  another.  Final  truth  in  such  a  system  could  only  be 
claimed  wdth  perfect  assura.nce  if  we  knew  that  we  had  exliausted 
all  the  points  of  vie\^ing  the  order  of  reality  with  wliich  we  are 
dealing,  and  this  is  why  final  truth  is  not  attainable  by  man. 
But  the  most  complete  truth  which  man  can  reach  lies  in  the 
most  comprehensive  system  of  coherent  thought  which  he  can 
construct,  and  the  way  of  reason  lies  always  in  the  effort  towards 
such  a  system,  and  of  unreason  in  the  adoption  of  beliefs  which 
conflict  Avith  one  another  and  cannot  be  reduced  to  a  harmonious 
order. 

Reason,  then,  generically  is  the  impulse  towards  a  coherent 
whole,  and  it  takes  any  partial  judgment  as  an  element  wliich 
must  be  assimilated  by  the  whole  before  its  final  truth  can  be 
established. 

Now  what  is  Reason  on  its  practical  side  ?  When  we  deem 
a  thing  good  or  bad  we  are  making  a  judgment  and  even  assert- 
ing a  fact.  But  that  fact  at  bottom  is  a  preference.  I  do  not 
seriously  think  a  thing  good  unless  I  prefer  it  to  what  is  indifferent 
or  bad,  and  such  a  preference  involves  not  a  mere  cognitive  or 
detached  intellectual  state,  but  an  attitude  which  may  be  called 
one  of  feehng,  using  the  term  feehng  as  a  general  name  for 
whatever  prompts,  maintains,  arrests,  or  re-directs  effort,  or,  if 
conditions  either  frustrate  or  do  not  require  effort,  expresses 
itself  in  emotion  or  in  simple  enjoyment  or  suffering  as  the  case 
may  be.  Good  and  bad  are  terms  for  objects  of  experience  about 
which  we  feel.  The  good  object  is,  as  such,  and  apart  from 
incidental  counteracting  causes,  one  in  which  we  find  pleasure 
and  one  which  we  seek  to  produce  and  maintain  as  long  as  the 
pleasure  lasts.  There  is  here  a  harmony — that  is,  a  relation  of 
mutual  support  between  the  object  and  the  feeling,  for  the 
feeling  is  maintained  by  the  object  and  also  gives  rise  to  the 
effort  to  maintain  and  complete  the  object.  Conversely,  where 
there  is  pain  there  is  disharmony,  the  effort  here  being  to  the 
arrest  of  the  experience,  and  removal  or  destruction  of  the  object. 
If  there  were  in  existence  only  one  consciousness  "with  only  one 
object  of  pleasure  its  efforts  would  be  solely  directed  towards 
pp 


578  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

the  maintenance  of  that  object  and  the  removal  of  all  else. 
But  there  are  many  objects  of  pleasurable  and  painful  conscious- 
ness, and  between  them  there  is  often  a  practical  inconsistency, 
the  conditions  which  produce  pleasure  in  one  relation  producing 
pain  in  another.  Now  the  rational  impulse  is  as  intolerant  of 
this  practical  inconsistency  as  of  theoretical  inconsistency.  On 
the  practical  side,  accordingly,  it  is  the  impulse  towards  a 
harmony  of  feeling  which  should  make  life  one  in  its  purpose, 
just  as  on  the  cognitive  side  it  is  an  effort  towards  a  harmony 
of  judgments  making  thought  one  in  its  principle.  Practical 
reason,  then,  may  be  simply  defined  as  the  basis  of  harmony 
in  the  world  of  purposes.  This  harmony  is  no  more  to  be 
achieved  without  a  re-modelling  of  impulses  than  consistency  of 
thought  without  a  re-casting  of  judgments.  For  (a)  my  own 
purposes  may  conflict  with  one  another,  and  (6)  any  or  all  of 
them  may  conflict  ^vith  those  of  another  person.  All  such 
conflict  exists  for  the  practical  reason  only  as  an  obstacle 
to  be  overcome,  just  as  contradiction  exists  for  the  speculative 
reason  only  as  a  difiiculty  to  be  resolved.  It  makes  no  difference 
whether  the  conflict  is  due  to  difference  of  persons,  of  com- 
munities, or  merely  of  tendencies  within  one  mind,  for  the 
reason  is  no  respecter  of  persons  or  of  anything  partial  except 
so  far  as  it  can  be  brought  into  a  harmony  of  the  whole .^  This 
harmony  has  behind  it  the  sum  of  all  the  driving  force  of  feehng, 
impulse,  will,  which  it  has  brought  within  its  scope,  and  its 
authority  is  independent  of  the  concurrence  of  any  particular 
impulse  or  any  particular  person  because  it  is  rationally  estab- 
lished, and  has  already  given  to  the  objection  such  weight  as 
in  an  impartial  regard  to  the  whole  system  of  purpose  is  its  due. 
It  is  objectively  valid  in  the  sense  in  which  tliis  term  can  be 
apphed  to  purpose,  i.  e.  in  the  sense  that  it  is  rationally  estab- 
lished. Now  the  plenitude  of  such  authority  could  only  attach 
to  a  completed  system,  but  as  in  knowledge,  so  in  action,  the 

1  For  want  of  recognition  of  its  universal  character  the  practical  reason 
is  too  often  identified  with  prudence  and  so  with  egoism.  The  reason  is 
here  thought  of  as  a  purely  intellectual  process  of  the  adaptation  of  means 
to  ends,  and  the  ends  are  conceived  as  determined  by  personal  desires 
alone.  This  view  ignores  the  elements  of  impulse-feeling  which  connect 
every  man  but  an  idiot  directly  with  some  others  and  potentially  with 
all  others,  and  missing  the  character  of  practical  reason  as  an  impulse  it 
also  fails  to  grasp  its  aim,  which  is  to  iinify  not  my  purposes  or  yours, 
but  all  purposes.  In  this  impulse  all  that  tends  to  bind  humanity — we 
may  even  say  the  sentient  world— into  one  is  summed  up. 

Conversely,  the  uiiity  of  the  world  of  mind  is  generally  conceived  as 
something  mystical.  The  truth  is  that  its  binding  thread  is  just  practical 
rationality,  including  therein  all  the  elements  of  emotion  and  conation 
that  go  to  make  up  the  rational  impulse. 


MODERN  ETHICS  679 

rational  impulse  is  authoritative  against  any  counter  impulse 
although  its  results  are  incomplete,  and  the  individual  is  there- 
fore under  obhgation  to  the  working  code  that  it  has  produced 
except  in  so  far  as  he  can  point  the  way  to  a  fuller  harmony. 

4.  But  in  what  sense  would  it  "  bind  "  him  ?  This  is  generally 
taken  as  resolvable  into  the  more  precise  question,  "  Wliat  will 
befall  him  if  he  ignore  it  ?  "  Accepting  the  question  in  this 
form,  let  us  from  the  outset  insist  that  this  consequence  is  not 
essentially  or  universally  a  loss  of  personal  happiness.  Admit- 
ting all  that  can  be  said  of  the  pangs  of  remorse  and  the  blessed- 
ness of  martyrdom,  we  should  still  be,  to  say  the  least,  unwise 
to  stake  anything  on  the  possibihty  of  proving  that  a  loss  of 
conscious,  realized  happiness  attends  every  fall  from  virtue  or 
refusal  of  duty.  We  may,  if  we  please,  maintain  that  it  is  well 
with  the  man  who  does  his  duty  to  his  worldly  loss,  and  ill  with 
him  who  rejects  it,  but  in  speaking  confidently  on  the  point, 
we  can  only  be  judging  them  from  outside.  We  are  measuring 
them  by  that  standard  of  merit  to  which  we  think  men  should 
conform,  to  which  we  ourselves  wish  to  conform.  We  are  not 
judging  by  the  conscious  happiness  or  misery  which  the  two  men 
experience,  for  we  have  no  means  of  deciding  with  certainty 
what  that  consciousness  is.  If,  indeed,  we  assume  both  of  them 
to  be  animated  alike  by  this  same  desire  to  conform  to  the  rule 
of  human  duty  which  our  judgment  on  them  postulates,  then 
we  may  impute  those  feehngs  of  inward  peace  on  the  one  hand, 
and  lasting  remorse  on  the  other,  which  we  know  to  be  in  average 
humanity  determining  factors  in  the  balance  of  happiness  and 
misery.  But  suppose  that  we  have  to  deal  on  the  one  side  with 
a  conscientious  soul  much  tried  and  often  sore  bested  in  the 
race,  and  on  the  other  with  a  consciousness  which  gradually, 
perhaps  half  dehberately,  blunts  its  moral  feehngs  and  loses  the 
sting  of  shame.  We  may  say  with  confidence  that  the  second 
is  a  lower  type,  but  we  cannot  with  equal  confidence  assume 
that  it  experiences  more  unhappiness.  Indeed,  the  probability 
lies  in  the  opposite  direction,  and  if,  nevertheless,  we  persist  that 
if  we  had  to  choose  we  would  prefer  for  ourselves  the  former 
character,  we  do  so  on  the  ground  that  something  other  than 
our  own  happiness  is  the  motive  which  does  and  should  move 
us,  and  that  it  is  better  to  be  half  a  hero  and  miserable  than 
a  whole-hearted  brute,  satisfied  with  brutishness.  Such  a  con- 
clusion is,  in  fact,  held  in  germ  in  the  bare  conception  of  a  moral 
obligation  that  is  not  merely  a  superior  and  more  exact  calcu- 
lation of  the  elements  of  personal  happiness  and  misery.     In 


580  MORALS   IN   EVOLUTION 

our  thinking  on  this  subject  we  are  too  often  tempted  to  get 
the  best  of  both  worlds,  to  claim  superiority  to  all  selfish  con- 
siderations when  insisting  boldly  on  the  supremacy  of  the  moral 
law,  and  then,  by  an  elastic  interpretation  of  happiness,  to  make 
terms  with  prudence  and  insist  that  even  from  this  point  of 
view  the  faithful  servant  of  duty  is  proved  uise  in  his  generation. 
We  are  aided  in  this  double  feeling  by  phrases  and  turns  of 
thought  which  enable  us  to  identify  Happiness  and  the  Good. 
These  terms  are,  indeed,  closely  related.  We  find  happiness  in 
conscious  realization  of  the  good,  but  we  may  attain  the  good 
without  knowing  it,  or  we  may  strive  towards  a  supreme  good 
at  the  cost  of  pain  and  misery  which  in  the  actual  measurement 
of  conscious  feeling  would  probably  far  outweigh  such  satis- 
faction as  our  poor  onward  efforts  may  bring.  Once  admit  and 
resolutely  adhere  to  the  admission  that  happiness  is  a  condition 
of  our  conscious  life,  and  we  bring  clearly  into  rehef  the  truth 
that  the  ethical  conception  of  the  good  carries  us  beyond  our 
own  conscious  being  and  forbids  us  to  look  for  a  reward  there. 

This  deduction  fairly  faced,  we  come  back  to  the  conception 
of  obligation  as  resting  on  the  relation  of  self  to  others,  or  more 
broadly,  on  the  position  of  each  man  as  a  member  of  the  great 
whole  in  which,  insignificant  part  as  he  is,  he  has  liis  function 
to  perform.  It  is  that  in  him  which  answers  to  this  position 
which  reahzes,  however  dimly,  the  nature  of  the  whole  to  which 
he  belongs,  which  drives  him  on  and  impels  him  even  through 
the  wreck  of  his  own  happiness  and  the  ruin  of  his  personal 
desires  to  play  his  part.  In  a  perfect  human  being,  indeed, 
all  such  conflicting  desires  would  be  overcome.  If  we  imagine 
the  reason  within  a  man  finding  a  perfectly  rational  order  of 
ideas  to  guide  it,  and  responding  by  carr3dng  its  own  work  of 
re-moulding  impulse  to  completion,  we  should  have  a  character 
in  which  every  impulse  would  of  itself  fit  into  an  ordered  whole. 
For  such  a  being  no  satisfaction  could  be  found  outside  the 
performance  of  the  duties  falling  to  his  lot,  and  thus  for  him 
the  antithesis  of  happiness  and  duty  would  be  overcome.  We 
do  not  find  this  perfection  in  real  life,  but  we  find  the  mirror 
of  it,  or  rather  a  fragment  of  it,  wherever  there  is  love.  For 
here,  too,  happiness  rests  in  service,  and  there  can  be  no  joy  in 
satisfaction  gained  at  the  expense  of  the  loved  object.  Hence 
the  few  men  gifted  with  the  genius  of  love  which  enables  them 
to  feel  for  mankind  what  ordinary  men  feel  for  wife  or  child, 
have  always  stood  forth  as  the  teachers  capable  of  inspiring  the 
world  with  a  new  gospel.  In  ordinary  humanity  we  do  not 
find  the  perfect  adaptation  of  the  impulses  to  the  service  of  the 


MODERN  ETHICS  581 

whole.  But  neither  do  we  find  outside  the  asylum  a  reign  of 
purely  anarchic  impulse.  There  is  a  movement  towards  har- 
mony which  gives  a  certain  general  direction  to  our  lives,  and 
which  has  within  it  all  the  gathered-up  forces  of  the  impulses 
which  it  has  brought  into  a  sjnithesis.  The  pressure  of  this 
system  on  any  impulse  that  conflicts  with  it  is  what  we  feel 
as  obligation.  This  system  may,  of  course,  be  formed  on  narrow 
lines  and  then  it  only  leads  us  astray,  but  so  far  as  it  is  the 
work  of  the  rational  impulse  it  tends  to  bring  each  of  us  into 
harmony  with  the  world  of  life  about  him.  The  adaptation  in 
the  perfect  state  in  which  all  emotion  is  attuned  to  it  is  experi- 
enced as  love;  in  its  incomplete  state,  when  the  system  has 
to  maintain  itself  with  effort  against  unreconciled  elements,  as 
duty.  Finally,  the  constraint  which  it  so  exercises  is  one  that 
we  recognize  as  just  and  valid  in  proportion  as  we  are  reasonable 
beings — that  is,  in  a  word,  the  obligation  is  rationally  justified. 
This  implies  that  man  is  bound  by  spiritual  ties  to  a  community 
with  a  life  and  purpose  of  its  own.  But  the  tie  is  not  such  as 
to  destroy  his  separate  personality,  but  rather  such  that,  like 
Love,  it  maintains  the  distinctness  of  the  persons  whom  it  binds 
together,  and  hence,  though  the  whole  to  which  he  belongs  may 
be  called  a  spiritual  whole,  it  is  only  by  metaphor  a  self  or  a 
person.  More  strictly  it  should  be  a  Spiritual  whole  in  the  true 
conception  of  which  Personahty  is  a  subordinate  element.^  If 
this  conclusion  is  correct,  the  problem  of  finding  the  principles 
of  a  rational  moral  order  resolves  itself  into  that  of  formulating 
the  nature  and  supreme  purposes  of  the  whole  to  which  man 
belongs.  To  the  efforts  made  by  modern  thought  in  this  direction 
we  must  now  turn. 

5.  Here,  once  again,  modern  thought  starts  with  the  idea  of 
"  nature."  The  conception  of  a  Law  of  Nature  binding  on  man 
as  man  had  been  adopted  by  the  Church,  which  extended  the 
conception  by  adding  to  the  principles  implanted  in  human 
nature  itself  those  revealed  in  Holy  Writ.  These  two  sources 
of  law  are  set  forth  at  the  outset  of  the  Decretum  Gratiani  as 
together  distinguished  from  the  positive  law  of  states. 

"  Humanum  genus  duobus  regitur,  naturali  videlicet  jure 
et  moribus.  Jus  naturae  est,  quod  in  lege  et  evangelic  con- 
tinetur,  quo  quisque  jubetur  alii  facere,  quod  sibi  vult  fieri,  et 
prohibettir  alii  inferre,  quod  sibi  nolit  fieri."  - 

'■  Here  the  term  super-personal,  employed  by  some  idealists,  pointB  m 
the  right  direction. 
^  Deer.  Crat.,    C.  J.  1. 


582  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

This  is  an  ethical  rather  than  a  juristic  principle.  Wliat  follows 
corresponds  better  both  to  the  ancient  and  modern  idea  of 
"  natural  "  laws. 

"  Jus  naturale  est  commune  omnium  nationum,  eo  quod  ubique 
instinctu  naturae,  non  constitutione  pHqua  habetur,  ut  viri  et 
feminse  conjunctio,  liberorum  successio  et  educatio,  communis 
omnium  possessio  et  omnium  una  libertas,  acquisitio  eorum  quae 
caelo,  terra  marique  capiuntur ;  item  dcpositaB  rei  vel  commen- 
datse  pecuniae  restitutio,  violentise  j)er  vim  repulsio."  ^ 

The  just  supremacy  of  natural  over  state  law  is  asserted  by 
Gratian,  and  the  authority  of  Augustine  ^  and  other  Fathers 
adduced  in  its  favour.  The  same  doctrine  is  maintained  by 
St.  Thomas,  and  the  Law  of  Nature,  which  was  destined  to 
become  the  associate  and  leader  of  revolutionaries,  entered 
upon  the  modern  period  with  all  the  odour  of  sanctity. 

But  it  was  not  till  the  decay  of  theological  ethics  had  begun 
that  it  assumed  any  real  importance.  Monotheism  had  divided 
reality  into  the  natural  and  the  supernatural,  and  when  the  one 
began  to  lose  authority  men  turned  to  the  other  as  of  course. 
The  Law  of  Nature  provided  a  basis  for  morals,  a  standard  for 
law,  and  a  rule  of  conduct  where  no  law  was.  It  was  in  the 
last  capacity  in  particular  that  it  emerged  as  a  working  factor 
in  thought.  The  Reformation  had  torn  Western  Europe  asunder, 
and  so  destroyed  that  spiritual  headship  of  the  popes  which 
had  provided  some  sort  of  common  authority  for  the  rivaJ 
powers  wliich  it  contained.  The  belief  grew  up  that  in  inter- 
national matters  men  were  bound  by  no  obligations  whatever, 
and  the  belief  was  practicallj'  exemplified  in  the  amazing  horrors 
of  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  century  warfare.  The  thinkers 
who  sought  to  remedy  an  evil  which  had  almost  destroyed 
civilization  in  Germany,  turned  to  the  old  antithesis  between 
nature  and  human  convention.  They  appealed  to  the  concep- 
tion of  a  natural  law  which  all  parties  recognized,  and  which, 
being  prior  to  political  sovereignty,  could  be  recognized  by 
warring  states  without  prejudice  to  their  independence.  Con- 
fining ourselves  to  Grotius  as  the  most  influential  of  the  school, 
it  is  interesting  to  see  how  he  conceives  the  Law  of  Nature 
Combating  the  assumption  that  every  animal  seeks  its  own 
advantage,  he  lays  down  that  there  is  in  man  (and  even  in 
some  lower  animals)  an  a'p'petitus  societatis,  a  desire  for  com- 

1  Doer.  Grat.,  G.J.,2. 

'  In  the  passages  cited  Augustine  seems  to  have  "  divine  "  rather  than 
"  natural  "  law  in  view,  but  they  are  treated  as  the  same  by  Gratian  (see 
pp.   13-1(3). 


MODERN  ETHICS  683 

munity,  and  that  not  of  any  kind  but  of  a  tranquil  kind,  ordered 
in  a  manner  congruous  to  his  intelhgence.  We  find  an  impulse 
to  benefit  others  among  certain  of  the  animals  and  in  infants 
anterior  to  any  education.  This  social  tendency  is  the  fountain 
of  natural  law  to  which  belong  the  obligations  of  "abstaining 
from  what  is  another's,  restitution  of  deposits,  fulfilling  con- 
tracts, reparation  for  culpable  injuries  and  administering  due 
punishment."  ^  Further,  since  fulfilment  of  contracts  is  a  part 
of  natural  law,  and  since  a  compact  is  the  foundation  of  society, 
natural  law  is  indirectly  the  source  from  which  state  laws  flow. 
Lastly,  though  natural  law  would  have  force  even  if  there  were 
no  God,  or  if  He  were  indifferent  to  human  things,  in  fact  all 
Christians  believe  that  He  will  punish  disobedience  to  His  law, 
and  natural  law,  though  it  proceeds  ex  principiis  Jiomini  internis, 
is  still  ultimately  ascribable  to  Him  as  the  fashioner  of  human 
nature.^  Natural  law,  then,  was  something  based  on  the  nature 
of  man  as  such,  independent,  therefore,  of  the  whims  of  kings, 
nobles,  or  majorities,  no  respecter  of  the  national  boundaries 
or  of  any  other  differences  that  part  groups  of  men,  binding  even 
on  sovereign  powers. 

In  elevating  human  personality  above  social  convention  and 
making  its  essential  attributes  tacitly,  if  not  expressedly,  the 
groundwork  of  pohtical  obligation,  the  law  of  nature  was  one 
way  of  formulating  the  most  vital  tendency  in  modern  ethical 
thought.  Moreover,  it  appeared  to  provide  the  fixed  standard 
which  in  the  decay  of  the  supernatural  was  required  by  the 
ethical  thinkers.  But  in  this  respect  its  promises  were  in  large 
measure  delusive.  Wliat  precisely  was  natural  was,  and  always 
has  been,  hard  to  say.  If  it  was  open  to  Grotius  to  maintain 
that  man  was  naturally  social  and  the  fundamental  laws  of 
society  were  deductions  from  the  law  of  nature,  it  was  also 
possible  for  Hobbes  to  assert  that  man  was  by  nature  selfish, 
and  that  no  social  law  could  be  produced  from  human  nature 
if  it  were  not  for  the  fear  that  men  entertain  of  one  another. 
The  Canon  Law  might  lay  down  that  by  nature  all  things  are  in 
common,  wliile  Grotius  and  Locke  would  agree  that  respect  for 
others'  property  was  a  natural  law.  In  one  sense  everytliing 
that  occurs  is  natural  and  everything  that  men  do  arises  out  of 
human  nature,  and  if  that  view  is  pressed  the  whole  difference 
between  the  natural  and  conventional  disappears.  Government 
is  natural,  even  the  freaks  of  a  fashion  are  natural.  It  is 
certainly  in  human  nature  to  tjTannize  and  domineer  quite 
as  much  as  it  is  in  human  nature  to  respect  the  equal  rights  of 

*  Grotius,  Prolegomena,  5--9.  -  ib.,  sees.  11,  12. 


584  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

another.  In  this  sense  clearly  nature  means  too  much  to  be 
of  any  value  as  a  term  in  ethics,  but  if,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
permanent  and  fundamental  conditions  of  human  nature  are 
meant,  the  question  arises  how  the  fundamental  is  to  be  dis- 
tinguished from  the  accidental  and  temporary,  and  the  use  of 
the  term  natural  itself  provides  no  test.  Lastly,  if  natural  means 
the  ideal,  the  term  which  is  really  wanted  when  we  speak  of  a 
standard  by  which  laws  and  customs  are  to  be  renovated,  then 
the  canon  of  wliat  always  has  been  is  insufficient  for  our  pur- 
poses in  so  far  as  the  natural  falls  short  of  the  possible,  and  we 
could  only  identify  the  natural  and  the  ideal  by  making  unhis- 
torical  assumptions  as  to  a  state  of  nature  in  the  Golden  Age, 
which  can  do  nothing  but  mislead 

In  regard  to  the  "  natural  rights  "  of  man,  definiteness  was 
given  to  the  doctrine  by  the  complementary  theory  of  social 
compact.  Certain  primary  rights  belong  to  a  man  as  a  human 
creature,  and  not  merely  as  a  member  of  society.  Thc}^  are 
regarded  rather  as  attributes  in  individuals  than  as  elements  in 
a  social  system.  Society  is  founded  upon  a  contract  Avhereby 
individuals  yield  up  a  portion  of  these  rights  in  order  to  secure 
mutual  aid  in  enforcing  those  which  they  retain.  Thus,  while 
political  or  legal  rights  flow  from  the  constitution  of  society, 
natural  rights  are  the  unexhausted  residue  of  the  original  stock 
with  which  men  are  endowed.  So  much  is  common  ground  to 
upholders  of  the  social  contract  from  Hobbes  to  Rousseau  and 
Paine,  though  they  differ  as  to  the  conditions  under  which  the 
contract  was  formed,  and  to  the  extent  to  which  and  the  form 
in  which  the  barter  of  natural  for  civil  rights  was  effected.  The 
general  theory  is  very  clearly  stated  by  Paine. 

"  Natural  rights  are  those  which  appertain  to  man  in  right  of 
his  existence.  .  .  .  Civil  rights  are  those  which  appertain  to  man 
in  right  of  his  being  a  member  of  society.  Every  civil  right  has 
for  its  foundation  some  natural  right  pre-existing  in  the  indi- 
vidual, but  to  the  enjoyment  of  which  his  individual  power  is 
not,  in  all  cases,  sufficiently  competent.  Of  this  kmd  are  all 
those  which  relate  to  security  and  protection."  ^ 

From  this  principle  it  follows  that  opposite  deductions  might 
be  drawn,  and  in  fact  were  drawn,  as  to  the  sphere  and  functions 
of  government.  It  might  be  used,  as  with  Hobbes,  to  support 
despotism ;  or,  as  by  Locke,  to  prove  that  a  king  who  does  not 
keep  an  implied  contract  with  his  people  may  be  dethroned; 
or,  as  by   Rousseau,   to   prove  the  ultimate  and  indefeasible 

»  Eights  of  Man,  p.  306. 


MODERN  ETHICS  685 

sovereignty  of  the  people  as  a  whole.  This  last  conception 
underhes  a  good  deal  of  modern  political  thought,  and  we  must 
note  what  it  implies.  The  conception  of  natural  rights,  then, 
leads  in  Rousseau's  argument  to  popular  sovereignty,  because  in 
the  compact  upon  which  society  rests  each  man  surrenders  his 
own  rights  only  in  return  for  equal  consideration  in  the  decisions 
taken  by  the  whole  communit3^  On  the  other  hand,  while  the 
absoluteness  of  popular  sovereignt}'^  is  thus  deduced  from  the 
doctrine  of  natural  rights,  it  is  limited  by  the  same  doctrine,  for 
it  may  be  held  that  in  the  exchange  of  natural  for  civil  rights 
men  do  not  part  with  all  tlieir  rights,  but  assign  some  only  to 
society,  retaining  those  which  are  necessary  to  the  inherent 
safety  and  dignity  of  the  human  personahty.  This  point  of 
view,  in  fact,  underhes  the  Declaration  of  Rights  by  the  French 
National  Assembly.  The  theory  is  very  clearly  expressed  by 
Paine.     It  is — 

"  First — That  every  civil  right  grows  out  of  a  natural  right ; 
or,  in  other  words,  is  a  natural  right  exchanged. 

"  Secondly — That  civil  power,  properly  considered  as  such, 
is  made  up  of  the  aggregate  of  that  class  of  the  natural  rights 
of  man,  which  becomes  defective  in  the  individual  in  point  of 
power,  and  answers  not  his  purpose,  but  when  collected  to  a 
focus  becomes  competent  to  the  purpose  of  every  one. 

"  Thirdly — That  the  power  produced  from  the  aggregate  of 
natural  rights,  imperfect  in  poAver  in  the  individual,  cannot  be 
applied  to  invade  the  natural  rights  which  are  retained  in  the 
individual,  and  in  which  the  power  to  execute  is  as  perfect  as 
the  right  itself."  i 

The  first  six  clauses  of  the  Declaration  of  the  Rights  of  Man 
show  how  the  leaders  of  the  French  Revolution  endeavoured  to 
give  practical  shape  to  these  ideas. 

"1.  Men  are  born,  and  always  continue,  free  and  equal  in 
respect  of  their  rights.  Civil  distinctions,  therefore,  can  be 
founded  only  on  public  utility. 

"2.  The  end  of  all  political  associations  is  the  preservation  of 
the  natural  and  imprescriptible  rights  of  man ;  and  these  rights 
are  liberty,  property,  security,  and  resistance  of  oppression. 

"3.  The  nation  is  essentially  the  source  of  all  sovereignty; 
nor  can  any  individual,  or  any  body  of  men,  be  entitled  to  any 
authority  which  is  not  expressly  derived  from  it. 

"  4.  Political  Liberty  consists  in  the  j)ower  of  doing  whatever 
does  not  injure  another.  The  exorcise  of  the  natural  rights  of 
every  man  has  no  other  limits  than  those  which  are  necessary 

>  Paine,  807. 


586  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

to  secure  to  every  other  man  the  free  exercise  of  the  same  rights ; 
and  these  limits  are  determinable  only  by  the  law. 

"  5.  The  law  ought  to  prohibit  only  actions  hurtful  to 
society.  .  .  . 

"  6.  The  law  is  an  expression  of  the  will  of  the  community. 
All  citizens  have  a  right  to  concur  either  personally  or  by  their 
representatives  in  its  formation."  ^  .  .  . 

We  may  sum  up  in  a  single  sentence  this  expression  of  the 
creed  in  which  the  doctrine  of  the  law  of  nature  had  culminated. 
Freedom,  equal  rights  and  security  of  person  and  property, 
limited  only  by  considerations  of  public  utility  as  determined 
by  a  sovereign  people,  this  is  the  only  moral  basis  of  govern- 
ment. These  principles  insist  upon  the  claims  of  human  person- 
ality more  fully  than  any  previous  ethical  system  had  done ; 
in  so  doing,  and  also,  it  must  be  granted,  in  placing  a  limit  on 
the  function  of  the  state,  they  expressed  a  tendency  with  which 
the  modern  mind  was,  on  the  whole,  in  sympathy. 

The  state  is  thus  conceived  as  having  a  sphere  carved  out  of 
the  original  totality  of  rights  in  accordance  wdth  the  necessities 
of  the  social  compact.  It  figures  as  a  necessary  derogation  from 
the  plenitude  of  individual  freedom — a  necessary  evil  which, 
whenever  it  passes  these  natural  limits,  becomes  a  positive  evil. 
The  good  the  state  can  do  is  negative.  It  is  the  free  individual 
on  whom  progress  depends.  In  this  conclusion  yet  another 
element  in  the  conception  of  "nature  "  co-operated — the  tend- 
ency to  identify  what  is  natural  with  what  is  best — a  tendency 
which  we  find  alike  in  the  Physiocrats  and  in  Adam  Smith, 
and  which  was  bequeathed  by  them  to  the  economists  of  the 
first  half  of  the  nineteenth  century.  Not  onl}^  had  men  a  natural 
right  to  freedom  in  industry  and  trade,  but  the  natural  course 
of  industry  and  exchange  produced  the  best  economic  results. 
The  industrial  and  commercial  mechanism  became  perfect  in 
proportion  as  it  was  allowed  to  run  without  interference  from 
the  central  government.  Under  "natural"  conditions,  i.e.  in 
the  absence  of  attempts  at  collective  direction,  rent,  profits, 
interest,  wages,  find  their  level.  Any  attempt  to  disturb  this 
level  produces  a  recoil,  involving  friction,  waste  and  misery. 
Under  natural  conditions  production  finds  for  itself  the  course 
of  greatest  profit  and  least  waste.  The  need  that  men  have  of 
one  another  makes  them  insensibly  find  the  line  of  least  resist- 
ance in  their  mutual  dealings,  and  what  that  line  will  be  ROBe 
can  tell  for  each  individual  so  well  as  he  himself.  He  moves 
precisely  where  his  interest  draws  him,  and  to  deflect  him  from 
^  From  Paino's  Rights  of  Man,  pp.  351,  352. 


I 


MODERN  ETHICS  687 

the  line  of  movement  is  to  inflict  on  him  and  on  others  whose 
interests  are  involved  in  free  dealings  with  him  a  net  loss. 

Thus  in  various  forms — now  as  a  Universal  Law,  now  as  a 
Primitive  State,  now  as  the  source  of  indestructible  right,  and 
again  as  a  beneficent  tendency  of  things — the  idea  of  nature 
formed  a  setting  for  men's  thoughts  on  social  ethics.  It  lent 
itself  with  an  elasticity  that  was  all  its  own  to  the  varying 
needs  of  successive  thinkers.  But  so  far  as  it  had  a  fixed  mean- 
ing in  social  philosophy,  it  expressed  the  antithesis  to  the  de- 
liberate action  of  governments,  and  thus  it  was  well  fitted  to 
serve  as  a  rallying  point  for  the  modern  pohtical  movement,  the 
object  of  which,  put  in  the  most  general  terms,  was  to  substitute 
the  state  based  upon  consent  for  the  regime  of  governmental 
authority  based  on  force.  The  conception  of  nature  was  a 
useful  lever  in  the  demohtion  of  the  old  structure  of  monarchical 
absolutism  and  feudal  privilege,  wherein  government  very  readily 
appeared  as  something  imposed  on  the  mass  of  the  community 
from  outside  instead  of  springing  from  their  own  "nature" 
within.  For  the  most  part  it  was  only  too  true  that  the  less 
such  governments  meddled  with  affairs,  the  better  it  was  for 
the  people  concerned.  It  was  true  that  the  social  structure 
which  they  preserved  was  not  natural  as  resting  either  on 
the  fitness  of  things  or  on  permanent  and  insuperable  necessities 
of  human  nature.  Nor  was  it  only  the  destructive  side  of 
the  movement  that  the  idea  of  nature  expressed.  In  a  dim 
and  somewhat  inarticulate  fashion  the  term  stood  for  funda- 
mental conditions  of  human  welfare,  and  in  particular  for  the 
claims  of  human  personality  as  independent  of  and  superior  to 
all  legal  and  political  obligations.  Round  the  central  conception 
range,  as  shown  above  (Part  I.,  Summary),  all  the  rights  claimed 
by  the  modern  man  and  woman,  and  those  rights  are  one  pole 
of  modern  ethics  and  of  the  modern  state. 

6.  But  when  the  question  of  the  more  precise  definition  of 
these  rights  arises,  the  limitations  of  the  doctrine  become 
apparent  and  the  other  pole  of  etliics  comes  into  view.  No 
right  can  be  made  absolute  without  threatening  the  destruction 
of  society,  and  it  is  impossible  to  discuss  the  adjustment  of  any 
claims  of  the  indi\adual  for  many  sentences  without  admitting 
a  reference  to  the  common  vveifare  or  some  such  principle.  This 
is  the  point  of  departure  for  Bentham's  criticism.  The  so- 
called  Rights  of  man  were,  according  to  him,  so  many  "  anar- 
chical fallacies."  A  man  had  a  right  to  so  much  as  was  con- 
sistent with  the  general  happiness,  and  no  more.     About  the 


588  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

cause  of  happiness  and  misery  one  can  inquire  and  debate,  and 
finally  prove  an  opinion  or  disprove  it.  But  as  to  rights  men 
can  debate  endlessly  and  prove  nothing. 

"  To  any  such  word  as  right,  no  other  conception  can  ever 
be  attached  but  through  the  medium  of  a  law,  or  something  to 
which  the  force  of  law  is  given;  from  a  real  law  comes  a  real 
right ;  from  an  imagined  law  nothing  more  substantial  can  come 
than  a  correspondentlj^  imagined  right.  Lay  out  of  the  question 
the  idea  of  law,  and  all  that  you  get  by  the  use  of  the  word  right 
is  a  sound  to  dispute  about.  I  say  I  have  a  right ;  I  say  you 
have  no  such  right :  men  may  keep  talking  on  at  that  rate  till 
they  are  exhausted  in  vociferation  and  rage ;  and,  when  they 
have  done,  be  no  nearer  to  the  coming  to  a  mutual  conception 
and  agreement  than  they  were  before."  ^ 

Tlie  argument  could  only  be  settled  by  reference  to  the 
higher  principle  of  the  general  welfare,  which  both  disputants 
could  accept.  If  there  is  no  common  good  which  both  admit, 
definable  in  terms  which  both  can  recognize,  there  is  nothing 
to  limit  the  possible  claims  of  each.  But  the  common  good  is, 
after  all,  a  vague  phrase.  Could  any  means  be  found  of  so 
defining  it  as  to  make  it  an  objective  test  of  the  right  and  wrong 
of  action  ?  Such  means  the  Utihtarians  (if  the  name  may 
be  appHed  retrospectively)  conceived  themselves  to  have  dis- 
covered in  the  calculus  of  pleasures  and  of  pains.  The  general 
happiness  was  the  supreme  end  of  creation.  Happiness  con- 
sisted positively  in  the  consciousness  of  pleasure,  negatively 
in  the  avoidance  of  pain.  The  goodness  of  a  form  of  govern- 
ment, a  social  or  pohtical  institution,  a  law,  or  a  moral  rule, 
might  thus  be  submitted  to  a  positive  and  objective  test.  Did 
it  on  the  whole  produce  more  happiness  than  misery  ?  If  so,  it 
was  good.  Did  it  produce  a  balance  of  pain  ?  If  so,  it  was  bad. 
Here  was  an  objective  test  which  a  perfected  sociological  science 
(here  the  word  must  be  allowed  prospectively)  might  carry  out 
into  detail.  In  point  of  fact  Bentham  set  himself  to  work  out 
a  theory  of  law  and  government  upon  that  basis.  But  the  first 
condition  of  any  such  undertaking  was  that  rights  should  be 
reduced  from  their  proud  position.  They  were  not  fundamental 
and  inviolable  principles,  but  were  means  to  an  end.  If  freedom 
in  any  given  direction  promotes  the  general  happiness — well  and 
good .  Men  have  a  right  to  that  kind  of  freedom .  Let  it  be  shown 
however,  that  such  freedom  tends  to  produce  a  balance  of  pain, 
and  the  right  disappears.     Rights,  then,  are  related  to  the  happi- 

^  Bentham,  Securities  against  Misrule  adapted  to  a  Mohammedan  State, 
1S22-23,  chap,  i.;  Works,  vol.  vii.  p.  557. 


MODERN  ETHICS  589 

ness  of  mankind.  On  the  other  hand,  the  two  most  important 
"  rights  of  man  "  are,  in  point  of  fact,  incorporated  in  Bentham's 
scheme.  Equaht}^,  in  fact,  may  be  said  to  be  its  corner-stone — 
"  Everybody  to  count  for  one  and  nobody  for  more  than  one." 

"  The  happiness  of  the  most  helpless  pauper  constitutes  as 
large  a  portion  of  the  universal  happiness,  as  does  that  of  the 
most  powerful,  the  most  opulent  member  of  the  community. 
Therefore  the  happiness  of  the  most  helpless  and  indigent  has  as 
much  title  to  regard  at  the  hands  of  the  legislator,  as  that  of  the 
most  powerful  and  opulent."  ^ 

The  thought  here  appears  to  be  that  happiness  is  the  sole  end 
of  value,  and  that  any  person's  happiness  is  of  equal  value  with 
any  other  person's.  As  in  Kant,  impartiality  between  persons 
is  the  foundation  of  morahty.  Individual  hberty  was  also  well 
provided  for.  The  close  relation  of  private  and  general  happi- 
ness was  an  essential  part  of  the  scheme.  Whether  by  en- 
hghtened  self-interest  or  by  the  cidtivation  of  the  social  feel- 
ings men  could  come  to  identify  their  good  with  that  of  other 
peojale,  and  it  was  to  this  free  choice  rather  than  to  any  form 
of  compulsion  that  the  Utihtarians  as  a  whole  mainly  trusted. 
On  the  other  hand,  since  power  in  the  hands  of  one  man  or 
of  a  few  might  be  used  selfishly,  it  was  necessary  that  each 
man  should  have  a  share  in  determining  the  government  of 
the  country,  and  so  the  third  of  the  great  "ideas  of  '89"  is 
reached  by  another  path.  There  must  be  democratic  govern- 
ment, not  because  popular  sovereignty  is  a  matter  of  absolute 
right  deducible  from  the  imagined  character  of  a  fictitious  social 
compact,  but  because  it  is  the  only  way  to  check  the  selfishness 
of  rulers  and  so  ensure  the  general  happiness. 

In  this  statement  government  is  still  tacitly  conceived  as 
essentially  an  infringement  on  the  sphere  of  the  individual,  a 
necessary  evil,  the  encroachments  of  which  must  be  carefully 
watched.  This  attitude  to  government  is  not,  indeed,  essential 
to  the  Utihtarian  principles,  but  it  is  characteristic  of  the  phase 
of  thought  to  which  Utihtarianism  liistorically  belongs.  In 
the  Utihtarian  method,  society  is  still  thought  of  in  terms  of 
"  numbers  "  of  people  whose  feehngs  of  happiness  and  misery 
can  be  added  and  subtracted,  rather  than  as  a  whole,  in  which 
the  injury  of  any  one  part  is  apt  to  spread  its  bad  influence 
through  the  body.  With  the  same  tendency,  an  even  more 
vital  defect  is  connected.  To  make  general  happiness  the 
standard  of  law  and  morals  was  an  immense  advance  in  the 

1  Const.  Code,  Book  I.  chap.  xv.  sec.  7;  Works,  vol.  ix.  p.  107.  Cf. 
Mill's  Utilitarianism,  chap.  v.  p.  92. 


590  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

direction  of  defining  tlie  moral  idea  upon  the  old  conception  of 
nature,  and  in  Bentham's  hands  it  could  initiate  a  valuable  and 
far-reaching  series  of  reforms.  Yet  to  make  happiness  the  sole 
criterion,  as  though  the  kind  of  objective  life  in  Avhich  men  fuid 
happiness  were  unimportant,  was  a  mistake  which  hampered 
Utilitarianism  from  the  outset  in  accounting  for  moral  obliga- 
tion. Even  if  happiness  were  in  theory  the  ultimate  end,  it 
was  not  sufficiently  recognized — unless,  perhaps,  by  the  younger 
Mill — that  the  kind  of  life  in  which  happiness  is  foimd  is  all- 
important.  The  happiness  of  one  section,  or  of  one  generation, 
might  be  purchased  at  the  expense  of  misery  in  the  future,  and 
if  this  was  to  be  avoided  and  an  intelligent  view  of  the  per- 
manent conditions  of  happiness  for  mankind  at  large  was  to  be 
obtained,  it  was  necessary  to  make  the  laws  of  healthy  social 
development  the  object  of  study  and  the  direct  standard  of 
conduct.  The  direct  application  of  the  Greatest  Happiness 
principle  might  be  applied  with  success  to  the  flagrant  abuses 
with  which  the  men  of  Bentham's  day  had  to  contend,  but  as 
more  controversial  questions  arise  and  greater  scientific  pre- 
cision is  needed,  the  calculus  of  pleasures  and  pains  becomes 
inappHcable.  We  cannot  think  out  the  value  of  action  in  terms 
of  the  indefinitely  large  number  of  persons  affected.  We  do  not 
know  where  to  stop  in  taking  consequences  into  account,  and 
the  thread  of  causation  is  lost  as  we  endeavour  mentally  to 
follow  it  into  the  dim  distance.  If  we  are  to  trace  social  cause 
and  effect  with  any  hope  of  securing  tangible  and  well-grounded 
results,  we  must  therefore  start  from  the  other  end.  We  must 
think  of  the  corporate  life  of  society  and  inquire  whether  it 
exhibits  any  laws  of  health,  of  growth  or  decay,  and  so  far  as 
we  can  ascertain  such  laws  we  may  judge  of  the  broad  effects 
of  conduct. 

7.  Thus  on  several  sides  the  Utihtarian  method  needed  to  be 
supplemented  by  a  conception  of  the  collective  social  life  of 
humanity  emerging  and  maturing  under  conditions  which  it  is 
the  supreme  object  of  practical  wisdom  to  ascertain  and  under- 
stand. Such  a  conception  had  already  entered  into  modern 
thought  with  the  work  of  writers  like  Vico  and  Montesquieu, 
and  formed  the  basis  of  an  historical  treatment  of  sociology. 
From  these  it  passed  through  Condorcet  and  the  St.  Simonians 
to  Comte  and  his  disciples.  In  another  incarnation  it  inspired 
the  Hegelian  philosophy  of  history.  Amid  great  variations,  not 
merely  in  detail  but  in  the  whole  handling  of  the  subject,  his- 
torical sociology  leads  to  certain  fairly  well  marked  views  on 


I 


MODERN   ETHICS  591 

questions  of  ethical  principle.  First  of  all,  it  lays  down  that 
neither  duties  nor  rights  can  be  studied  without  a  knowledge 
of  social  conditions,  for  without  society  there  is  neither  duty  nor 
right.  But  further,  social  conditions  are  not  the  same  every- 
where or  at  every  time.  The  relations  on  which  the  preacher  of 
absolute  right  and  wrong  would  rest  his  moral  laws  are  them- 
selves moving  relations.  Humanity  is  a  grooving  organism,  and 
the  problem  of  the  thinker  is  to  understand  the  laws  of  its 
growth  and  adjust  the  code  of  conduct  which  his  disciples  are 
to  preach  to  the  needs  of  the  present  phase.  For  though  there 
are  "laws"  of  social  growth,  we  are  not  to  suppose  that  the 
result  is  so  determined  as  to  be  wholly  beyond  the  power  of 
human  intelligence  to  modify.  There  are  "  laws  "  of  health,  yet 
there  is  a  use  for  doctors.  It  is  so  far  as  we  understand  the 
laws  of  social  life  that  we  can  hope  to  affect  it  intelligently,  and 
in  point  of  fact  it  is  of  the  essence  of  its  growth  that  humanity 
becomes  conscious  of  itself  ;  that  is  to  say,  more  and  more  aware 
of  the  conditions  upon  which  its  happiness  and  progress  depend, 
and  so  capable  of  self-direction.  In  this  conception  of  a  self- 
directing  humanity  lies  the  basis  of  scientific  ethics. 

As  conceived  by  Comte,  it  was  more  than  a  basis  of  ethics. 
Collective  humanity,  as  a  being  that  never  dies,  but  grows,  learns 
and  develops  throughout  the  ages,  was  to  be  the  object  of  a 
new  rehgion,  a  religion  dealing  ^\dth  reaUties  and  based  on 
science,  that  should  put  behind  it  for  ever  the  dreams  of  the 
theologians  and  the  cobwebs  of  metaphj^sics.  Whatever  there 
was  of  spiritual  good  was  to  be  found  in  the  life  of  humanity, 
in  the  relations  of  human  beings  to  one  another,  and  nowhere 
else  in  the  M'orld.  With  regard  to  the  ultimate  origin  and 
basis  of  tilings,  men  could  imagine  what  they  pleased,  but  no 
absolute  truth  was  obtainable.  Throughout  history  schemes  of 
theology  had  arisen,  flourished  and  decayed.  They  had  come 
into  being  to  meet  some  intellectual  or  moral  need  of  mankind. 
They  had  flourished  so  long  as  they  satisfied  that  want ;  they 
had  perished  when  other  wants  arose,  when  deeper  questions 
were  asked,  when  they  no  longer  fitted  the  more  developed 
character  of  the  race.  Their  strength  lay  not  in  their  truth,  but 
always  in  their  practical  value.  For  humanity  had  worked  out 
empirically,  as  it  were,  in  a  blind,  groping,  unconscious  manner, 
both  the  fundamental  institutions  necessary  to  its  existence, 
such  as  marriage,  property  and  government,  and  also  the  ethical 
and  religious  systems  which  were  suited  to  each  stage  of  its 
development.  But  in  all  cases  there  was  a  large  admixture  of 
error,  and  it  was  the  problem  for  a  scientific  religion  to  maintain 


592  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

the  truth,  letting  the  shell  of  error  drop  off.  The  gods,  taken 
at  their  best,  were  incarnations  of  essentially  human  relations, 
human  feelings,  human  duties.  Could  not  these  human  relations, 
these  human  duties,  he  made  objects  of  reverence  apart  from 
the  shell  in  which  they  had  hitherto  lived,  and  would  they  not 
be  purer  so  conceived  ?  For  the  very  process  of  incarnation  had 
robbed  the  spiritual  of  half  its  character.  By  transferring  it 
to  a  supernatural  world,  it  had  given  ground  for  the  suggestion 
that  it  had  no  application  to  this  world,  and  based  it  on  dogmas 
which  proved  a  treacherous  support,  instead  of  allowing  it  to 
stand  by  its  own  inherent  strength.  The  problem  of  positive 
reUgion  was  to  restore  virtue  and  righteousness,  charity  and 
justice,  to  their  true  dignity,  to  recognize  in  them  a  positive 
value  as  integral  elements  in  the  noblest  life  of  humanity, 
requiring  no  sanction,  theological  or  metaphysical,  to  back  them 
up,  but  relying  on  their  own  inherent  beauty  and  strength. 
But  theological  religion  at  its  best,  as  seen  in  the  mediaeval 
Church,  had  provided  a  rule  for  all  life.  It  had  presided  over 
every  occasion ;  it  had  been  present  at  birth,  marriage  and 
death,  in  sickness  and  in  health,  in  good  and  evil  fortune,  en- 
couraging saintship,  heroism  and  devotion,  comforting  misery 
and  cheering  the  penitent.  In  all  these  directions  the  conception 
of  humanity  was  to  fulfil  the  same  function;  it  was  the  focus 
and  meeting-point  of  all  good  and  resolute  effort ;  the  humblest 
devotee  of  science  no  less  tlian  the  greatest  philosophic  intelli- 
gence was  contributing  to  its  progress.  The  statesman,  the 
man  of  affairs,  the  captain  of  industry,  had  their  function,  did 
their  service  in  forwarding  the  progressive  organization  of  life. 
The  poet,  the  musician,  the  artist  inspired  or  expressed  the 
onward  movement  of  the  human  spirit.  All  past  history  was 
lit  up  by  the  conception  of  this  great  movement  to  which  all 
previous  efforts  of  humanity  pointed.  A  positive  religion  would 
provide  for  a  renovated  worship  of  saints  and  heroes  in  the 
persons  of  all  who  had  contributed  to  the  march  of  the  human 
mind.  The  light  thus  reflected  on  the  past  shone  even  more 
brightly  upon  the  present..  Every  social  effort,  every  endeavour 
to  the  furtherance  of  knowledge,  art  or  industry  received  a  new 
dignity  when  considered  as  contributing,  each  in  its  degree,  to 
one  great,  all-embracing  cause.  Nor  were  the  minor  interests 
of  life  swamped  by  the  supreme  conception.  Religion  and 
humanity  preached  no  vague  diffused  benevolence  which  should 
override  the  more  direct  and  personal  ties  that  bind  us  to  our 
family,  our  neighbour  and  our  country.  On  the  contrary,  all 
these  had  their  place.     Each  was  recognized  as  intrinsically  a 


MODERN  ETHICS  693 

worthy  object  of  devotion,  only  it  must  be  a  devotion  limited 
by  the  broad  requirements  of  the  human  religion — that  is  to  say, 
it  must  be  a  devotion  purged  of  the  elements  of  collective  pride 
and  selfishness.  We  must  love  our  country,  but  not  so  as  to 
wish  it  to  dominate  all  others.  Our  chief  pride  in  it  must  lie 
in  our  sense  of  the  service  that  it  renders  to  humanity,  just  as 
the  only  legitimate  pride  that  we  can  feel  in  our  own  achieve- 
ments or  in  the  career  of  those  near  and  dear  to  us  should  de- 
pend on  the  extent  to  which  those  achievements  or  that  career 
has  been  of  service  to  the  world  at  large.  Humanity  was  not 
to  override  those  fundamental  attachments  which  make  up 
the  larger  part  of  practical  life  for  all  of  us.  It  was  to  purify 
and  co-ordinate  them,  to  infuse  into  them  a  spirit  of  wider 
sympathy,  to  elevate  them  by  a  deeper  sense  of  their  meaning 
and  value. 

The  peculiar  form  given  to  humanitarianism  by  Comte  has 
been  criticized  from  many  points  of  view.  Fundamentally  it  is 
objected  that  it  propounds  to  us  the  worship  either  of  a  vague 
impalpable  abstraction,  or,  if  we  reduce  humanity  to  concrete 
terms,  of  ourselves — weak,  imperfect  beings  as  we  are.  To 
this,  one  of  Comte's  ablest  disciples  replies  that  the  conception 
of  humanity  as  the  goal  and  basis  of  human  effort  is  misunder- 
stood. 

"  No  one  thinks  that  when  he  mentions  the  word  England  or 
France  or  Germany,  he  is  talking  of  a  ghost  or  a  phantom.  Nor 
does  he  mean  a  vast  collection  of  so  many  millions  of  men  in 
the  abstract ;  so  many  million  ghosts.  Man  in  the  abstract  is 
of  all  abstractions  the  most  unreal.  By  England  we  mean  the 
prejudices,  customs,  traditions,  history,  peculiar  to  Englishmen, 
summed  up  in  the  present  generation,  in  the  living  representa- 
tives of  the  past  history.  So  with  Humanity.  ...  Is  such  a 
religion  self -worship  ?  .  .  .  What  explains  the  error  is  the  belief 
that  by  Humanity  we  mean  the  same  thing  as  the  human  race. 
We  mean  something  widely  different.  Of  each  man's  life,  one 
part  has  been  personal,  the  other  social :  one  part  consists  in 
actions  for  the  common  good,  the  other  part  in  actions  of  pure 
self-indulgence,  and  even  of  active  hostility  to  the  common 
weKare.  Such  actions  retard  the  progress  of  Humanity,  though 
they  cannot  arrest  it  :  they  disappear,  perish,  and  are  finally 
forgotten.  There  are  lives  wholly  made  up  of  actions  such  as 
these.  They  form  no  part  of  Humanity.  Humanity  consists 
only  of  such  lives,  and  only  of  those  parts  of  each  man's  life, 
which  are  impersonal,  which  are  social,  which  have  converged  to 
the  common  good."  ^ 

*  J.  H.  Bridges,  Essays  and  Addresses,  pp.  86-88. 


594  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

It  v/ould  seem  from  this  that  the  conception  of  Humanity  is 
not  so  much  what  logicians  call  a  collective  concept  including  all 
men  and  women.  It  is  rather  that  of  a  Spirit  pervading  human 
beings  and  their  life ;  not,  indeed,  a  Being  outside  and  over 
above  men  and  women,  but  a  Being  that  is  the  best  of  them — 
the  good  that  is  in  each  working  together— the  spiritual  whole 
so  constituted.^ 

When  stated  in  these  terms  the  conception  of  Humanity 
comes  into  close  relation  with  a  conception  towards  which  the 
metaphysical  method  which  Comte  rejected  had  made  indepen- 
dent advances.  The  Hegelian  philosophy,  for  example,  conceived 
history  as  a  process  wherein  the  Spirit,  continually  seeking 
reahzation,  arrives  finally  at  self-consciousness.  Allowing  for 
difference  of  terminology  and  for  the  more  essential  point  of 
divergence  that  Positivism  is  a  theory  of  practice,  Hegelianism 
a  theory  of  the  ultimate  nature  of  reality,  this  is,  after  all,  some- 
thing very  close  to  the  idea  of  humanity  as  a  name  for  all  that 
makes  for  good  in  men  winning  through  the  long  struggles 
of  historical  development  to  consciousness  of  itself,  and  the 
deUberate  guidance  of  its  own  life.  In  either  case  it  is  at  bottom 
the  idea  of  the  development  of  the  divine  in  man  that  is  used 
as  a  solution  of  etliical  and  religious  problems.  From  such 
opposite  poles  do  we  approach  an  idea  which  would  seem  to  be 
at  the  heart  of  modern  thought.  The  God  of  Monotheism,  as 
the  ideally  perfect  Being,  became,  as  we  saw,  separated  from 
the  world  as  its  Creator  and  Ruler.  From  this  separation  arose 
ethical  problems  which  might  be  concealed  under  a  mass  of 
optimistic  verbiage,  but  were  incapable  of  any  genuine  solution 
on  the  basis  of  an  unconditional  creation  of  things  by  a  Being 
who  is  perfect  in  himself.  We  have  seen  the  partial  recognition 
of  this  impasse,  pointing  religious  thinkers  through  the  theory 

*■  If  it  be  said  that  such  a  unity  of  individual  distinct  minds  can  only 
have  a  mystical  meaning,  it  may  be  replied  that  it  is  precisely  the  kind  of 
unity  towards  which  the  passage  quoted  above  from  Dr.  Bridges  points. 
If,  further,  it  is  alleged  that  only  the  individual  minds  are  real  and  that  a 
totality  constituted  by  them  is  not  a  real  being,  the  reply  is  that  this  is 
a  form  of  the  nominalist  fallacy.  The  totality  is  not  another  individual 
similar  to  those  which  compose  it,  but  is  none  the  less  the  real  being  which 
together  they  make  up.  All  tlie  vital  processes  of  the  human  body  pro- 
ceed in  separate  cells.  The  body  itself  is  not  another  cell,  but  neither  is  it 
a  mystic  creation.  It  is  the  totality  of  the  cells,  and  its  life  the  totality  of 
the  cellular  processes.  So  in  all  probability  conscious  life  depends,  not  on 
a  process  in  any  one  cell  of  the  brain,  but  in  multitudinous  processes  carried 
on  simultaneously  in  cells  that  lie  far  apart  in  the  cerebral  mass.  Yet 
consciousness  is  one.  So  the  Mind  of  Humanity  is  the  unity  in  process  of 
formation  of  multitudinous  minds  of  men.  To  call  it  "  mind  "  may  be 
metaphorical  and  inadequate.  But  to  call  it  a  real  agency  is,  I  think, 
literal  prose. 


MODERN  ETHICS  595 

of  Free  Will  to  an  educative  conception  of  the  dealings  of  God 
^vith  man.  Idealism,  carrying  tliis  further,  has  sought  to  over- 
come the  cleavage  involved  in  Monotheism,  to  bring  back  tho 
divine  Creator  into  the  undivine  created  world.  It  has  thus 
been  led  l)y  a  very  roundabout  road  to  a  transfigured  version  of 
that  indwelhng  Spirit  with  which  rehgion  starts,  a  Spirit  which 
dwells  in  things  instead  of  controlling  them  from  wthout.  Wlien 
the  attributes  of  this  Spirit  are  frankly  criticized  they  are  found 
to  imply  that  it  is  not  the  whole  of  nature,  but  is  conditioned 
by  nature  even  while  shaping  it,  and  strives  with  things,  though 
they  are  its  own  flesh ;  and  only  through  the  evolutionary 
process  which  science,  as  well  as  philosophy,  recognizes,  presses 
on  to  that  final  and  complete  domination  of  the  conditions  of 
existence  which  the  earher  theory  attributed  to  it  at  its  point  of 
departure  as  the  starting  point  and  origin  of  Creation. 

The  conception  of  Development  has  been  applied  and  extended 
by  physical  science.  Biology  has  carried  it  far  beyond  the 
limits  of  human  history  and  applied  it  to  all  forms  of  life.  Con- 
temporary physics  and  chemistry  are  using  it  to  explain  the 
constitution  of  inanimate  matter.  However  little  thinkers  may 
agree  about  its  philosophic  interpretation,  the  idea  of  Develop- 
ment is  the  central  conception  of  modern  thought,  and  the  idea  of 
Humanity  in  development  holds  that  place  in  modern  ethics.^ 

If  we  consider  carefully  the  differences  of  interpretation  which 
distinguish  different  schools  of  thought,  we  shall  find  that  they 
turn  largely  on  the  value  of  this  conception — or,  indeed,  of  any 
conception  derived  from  human  experience  as  an  expression 
of  the  ultimate  nature  of  reahty.  The  self-conscious  Spirit  of 
Hegel,  and  the  self-directing  Humanity  of  Comte,  for  example, 

1  It  is  one  of  the  ironies  incidental  to  the  development  of  thought  that 
the  biological  theory  of  evolution,  which  was  precisely  the  contribution  re- 
quired from  Physical  Science  to  round  off  and  amplify  the  humanitarian 
conception  of  progress,  should,  for  half  a  centmy,  have  been  the  most  potent 
intellectual  weapon  agamst  humanitarianism.  This  unfortunate  result 
appears  attributable  to  a  confusion  between  different  planes  of  thought. 
When  evolutionists  set  themselves  in  earnest  to  find  a  meaning  for  such 
terms  as  "  higher  and  lower,"  "  fit  and  unfit,"  which  come  so  readily  to  the 
lips,  they  cannot  well  avoid  the  appeal  to  a  rational  standard  of  ethics. 
With  the  introduction  of  such  a  standard  there  arises  the  possibility  of 
distinguishing  the  processes  which  make  for  the  evolution  of  a  higher  type 
from  those  which  tend  only  to  differentiation.  The  upward  process,  the 
"  orthogenic  hne,"  as  it  has  elsewhere  been  called,  being  thus  distinguished, 
it  became  possible  to  define  its  tendency  as  that  which  makes  for  the  ad- 
vance of  mind  towards  self-mastery.  But  this  is  again  the  self-conscious 
Spirit  of  Hegel,  the  self-directing  Humanity  of  Comte. 

It  is  very  noteworthy  that  IVIr.  Kidd,  starting  from  the  biological  point 
of  view,  has  in  his  later  work  {Principles  of  Western  Civilization)  laid  great 
stress  on  self-conscious  development  as  the  turning  point  in  Evolution. 


596  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

differ  primarily  on  this  point.  The  Hegelian  would  hold  that 
Absolute  Self -Consciousness  can  be  proved  by  a  metaphysical 
demonstration  to  express  the  true  character  of  the  Absolute. 
Those  who  at  all  lean  to  Positivism  would  deny  that  such  reality 
is  in  any  way  knowable,  and  would  claim  for  their  principle 
merely  that  it  formulated  the  results  of  experience  and  would 
prove  a  trustworthy  guide  of  life.  But  the  doctrine  that  the 
ultimate  nature  of  reality  is  unknowable  is  itself  a  metaphysical 
proposition  which  is  open  to  question.  It  is  equally  possible  to 
hold  that  all  knowledge  is,  so  far  as  it  goes,  knowledge  of  reality. 
On  this  view  reality  shows  its  character  in  experience,  though  in 
our  limited  experience  it  shows  it  only  in  part.  If,  then,  the 
whole  course  of  liistory,  or  say,  rather,  of  physical,  biological,  and 
social  evolution,  is  to  be  summed  up  in  this — that  it  is  a  process 
wherein  mind  grows  from  the  humblest  of  beginnings  to  an  adult 
vigour,  in  which  it  can — as  in  the  creed  of  humanity  it  does — 
conceive  the  idea  of  directing  its  own  course,  mastering  the 
conditions  external  and  internal  of  its  exercise,  if  this  is  a  true 
account  of  evolution — and  it  is  the  account  to  which  positive 
science  points — then  we  cannot  say  that  this  is  a  mean  and 
unimportant  feature  of  reality  that  is  disclosed  to  us.  We  can 
hardly  suppose  such  a  process  accidental  or  quite  peculiar  to 
the  conditions  of  this  earth.  At  any  rate,  as  far  as  the  widest 
synthesis  of  our  experience  goes,  it  shows  us  Reality  neither 
as  a  providentially  ruled  order  nor  as  a  process  of  fortuitous 
combinations  and  dissolutions,  but  as  the  movement  towards 
sslf-reahzation  of  a  mind  appearing  under  rigidly  limited  con- 
ditions of  physical  organization  in  countless  organisms,  and 
arri\ang  for  the  first  time  at  a  partial  unity  in  the  consciousness 
of  a  common  humanity  with  a  common  aim. 

8.  To  enter  more  fully  into  the  questions  of  historical  fact  and 
philosophic  interpretation  raised  by  the  humanitarian  theory 
would  be  beyond  our  present  scope.  But  on  the  ethical  question 
which  it  suggests  a  word  should  be  said.  To  begin  with,  we  may 
remark  that  as  a  standard  of  action  the  conception  of  human 
development  requires  some  further  definition.  A  Utihtarian  in 
particular  might  ask  whether  it  is  any  and  every  sort  of  develop- 
ment that  we  seek,  or  only  such  development  as  leads  to  happi- 
ness. If  the  former,  he  will  contend  that  our  standard  is  bad ; 
if  the  latter,  he  will  maintain  that  we  are,  after  all,  Utihtarians, 
taking  pleasure  as  an  ultimate  end,  though  we  may  call  a 
scientific  view  of  the  collective  life  of  Humanity  our  means  to 
that  end.     By  introducing  the  idea  of  historical  growth  we  have 


MODERN  ETHICS  597 

not,  after  all,  evaded  the  philosophic  problem.  How  moral  ideas 
have  arisen  and  grown  is  one  question,  how  and  by  what  prin- 
ciple we,  as  conscious  and  reflective  beings,  ought  to  shape 
them,  is  another.  We  must  therefore  revert  to  the  question 
raised  by  the  Utilitarians,  and  ask  how  the  standard  they  propose 
looks  in  the  light  of  the  further  developments  of  thought  which 
have  been  traced. 

The  Utilitarian  theory,  we  saw,  rested  principally  on  an 
analysis  of  Desire.  Now  in  the  controversies  to  which  this 
analysis  has  given  rise,  two  opposite  fallacies  have  been  revealed. 
On  the  one  hand,  pleasure  has  been  taken  as  the  direct  and 
universal  end  of  action.  On  the  other,  those  who  have  refused 
to  identify  pleasure  and  the  good,  have  denied  all  relation 
between  them,  or  have  reduced  pleasure  to  the  position  of  a 
result  supervening  on  the  attainment  of  desire.  Now,  inasmuch 
as  pleasure  is  distinct  from  happiness,  this  latter  position  has  a 
justification  of  its  own,  but  this  has  hardly  been  the  point  of 
the  controversy .1  When  we  have  distinguished  Will  and  Happi- 
ness as  having  to  do   with  the  permanent  elements  of  well- 

1  To  resolve  happiness  into  pleasure  was  the  initial  mistake  of  the  Utili- 
tarians. In  part  it  proceeded  from  the  influence  of  the  Humian  meta- 
physics, which  denied  permanent  "  substantiality  "  to  the  ego  and  resolved 
it  into  a  series  of  states.  Such  an  ego  could  only  have  a  series  of  feelings, 
and  to  such  temporary  feelings  the  name  of  pleasure  and  pain  are  appropri- 
ate. But  at  bottom,  I  think,  it  proceeded  from  a  laudable  desire  to  define 
a  man's  happiness  as  something  strictly  pertaining  to  his  own  conscious 
existence.  Without  such  a  strict  definition  the  fundamental  question  of 
modern  ethics  is  not  fairly  faced.  For  the  man  who  sacrifices  happiness 
to  duty  admittedly  "  does  well,"  and  from  this  it  is  easy  to  proceed  to 
the  proposition  that  "  it  is  well  with  him,"  and  that  he  is  accordingly  a 
"  happy  "  man.  In  that  way  of  putting  the  argument  (which  has  nothing 
to  do  with  the  empirical  fact  that  by  abandoning  apparent  happiness  a 
man  may  obtain  real  inward  peace,  which  is  conscious  happiness  in  another 
form)  the  old  ambiguity  between  happiness  as  something  felt  and  happiness 
as  the  possession  of  admirable  qualities  is  revived,  and  the  question  whether 
the  one  should  be  given  iip  for  the  other  is  blurred.  The  Utilitarians 
deserve  more  credit  than  they  have  received  for  forcing  a  clear  statement 
of  the  question  by  resolutely  defining  happiness  in  terms  of  feeling.  On 
the  other  hand,  if  the  self  is  more  than  a  series  of  fleeting  states,  happiness 
is  more  than  a  succession  of  pleasurable  feelings.  If  the  self  is  the  per- 
manent constitution  or  psychical  fabric  which  is  the  subject  of  experi- 
ence, happiness  is  the  relatively  stable  condition  of  the  structure — the 
quality  which  tinges  ordinary  life  and  lends  it  a  roseate  hue,  which  makes 
pleasure  joy  and  pain  bearable.  I  say  relatively  stable,  because  though  in 
a  measure  dependent  on  our  own  personality — so  that  some  have  a  happy, 
others  an  unhappy  temperament — it  is  capable  of  being  temporarily  or  even 
permanently  destroyed  by  the  really  great  events  of  life — some  one's  death, 
or  the  ruin  of  a  cherished  hope.  It  is  olKe76f  n  in  that  it  belongs  to  our 
personality,  and  Si/.Tat/jaipeToV  in  that  no  light  thing  robs  us  of  it.  But 
under  the  misfortunes  of  a  Priam  the  most  that  can  be  said  is  "  SiaXd^irn 
Til  Ka\6y." 


598  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

being  from  desire  and  pleasure  as  concerned  with  the  temporary, 
the  same  question  arises  in  a  new  form.  Is  personal  Happiness 
the  direct  object  of  Will,  or  do  we  choose  a  certain  mode  of  life 
from  merits  of  its  own,  and  merely  find  happiness  in  the  fact 
that  we  are  able  to  realize  the  result  of  efforts  ? 

There  is  a  third  alternative  which  seems  to  accord  best 
with  the  analysis  of  effort  and  to  be  supported  by  comparative 
psychology.  In  speaking  of  pleasure  we  are  apt  to  forget  in 
Enghsh  the  Greek  distinction  between  to  rjSv  and  rj  rjSovi^,  the 
pleasant  object  or  action,  and  the  pleasure  which  we  feel  in 
relation  to  the  object  or  in  performing  the  action.  The  normally 
constituted  animal  on  the  whole  desires  things  that  are  pleasant. 
Were  it  otherwise,  pleasure  and  pain  would  have  no  func- 
tion. For  they  come  into  existence  by  serving  the  function  of 
regulating  impulse,  encouraging  one  impulse,  and  modifjdng  or 
inhibiting  another.  The  impulse  to  eat  nasty  food  is  checked 
by  its  nastiness,  the  preference  for  pleasant  food  is  encouraged 
by  its  pleasantness.  Indeed,  in  the  life  of  the  lower  animals  all 
that  we  know  by  direct  observation  is  the  encouragement  and 
the  inhibition,  and  the  permanent  effects  thereof.  The  pleasure 
and  the  pain  we  impute  to  the  animal  on  the  analogy  of  our 
own  consciousness.  The  value  of  this  machinery  for  the  regu- 
lation of  impulse  is  that  it  enables  the  hereditary  structure  to 
become  more  elastic.  The  animal  which  can  learn  by  pleasure 
and  pain  may  have  impulses  which  would  lead  to  its  destruction 
if  not  checked  by  the  painful  results,  but  for  this  very  reason 
it  is  not  compelled  to  come  into  being  with  all  its  modes  of 
behaviour  preordained,  but  may  safely  possess  a  richer  inherit- 
ance, enabling  it  to  deal  with  wider  variations  of  circumstances. 
The  implication  here  is  that  the  pleasurable  on  the  whole  coin- 
cides with  the  life-giving,  and  the  unpleasant  with  the  harmful. 

Impulse,  then,  is  on  the  whole  regulated  by  pleasure,  and 
pleasure  is  on  the  whole  subservient  to  the  needs  of  life.  But 
(1)  impulse  is  the  primary  fact.  It  is  not  based  on  pleasure  but 
confirmed  or  modified  by  it,  and  the  same  thing  is  true  of  Desire, 
which  is  impulse  shaped  and  directed  by  the  idea  of  its  object. 
The  desired  object  is  attractive,  and  the  attraction  is  not  essenti- 
ally a  faint  anticipatory  realization  of  the  pleasure  to  be  derived 
from  it,  but  a  feeling-tone  attaching  to  the  idea  itself  and  giving 
it  driving -force.  (2)  The  adaptation  of  desire  to  pleasure, 
and  of  pleasure  to  life-giving  or,  as  we  may  call  them,  develop- 
mental ends,  is  never  perfect.  Human,  and  even  animal,  nature 
is  many  sided,  and  a  function  which  on  the  whole  tends;  to  pre- 
serve the  stock  may  have  maiy/  harmful  developments  which 


MODERN  ETHICS  599 

natural  selection  fails  to  lop  off.  Thus  the  pleasure  of  eating 
and  drinking,  which  on  the  whole  is  necessary,  may  stimulate 
over-eating  and  over-drinking,  which  are  pro  tmito  harmful. 
Further,  different  impulses  and  different  pleasures  may  conflict 
with  one  another,  and  those  which  are  on  the  whole  most 
necessary  to  the  life  of  the  species  may  be  thwarted  by  others 
felt  with  greater  immediate  intensity. 

Wliile  Desires  are  many,  various,  and  passing,  they  belong  to  a 
self  which  is  single  and  permanent  and  which  may  act  as  a  unity 
for  ends  wliich  appeal  to  it  as  such.  This  action,  which  we  call 
that  of  Will,  implies  a  certain  inter-relation  of  the  various  im- 
pulsive and  emotional  tendencies,  which  are  naturally  fostered 
and  strengthened  so  far  as  they  fall  in  with  the  ends  which  the 
Will  adopts,  pressed  and  re-moulded  to  adapt  them  to  the  course 
of  life  which  it  prescribes,  or  it  may  be  altogether  resisted  and,  if 
possible,  suppressed.  In  so  far  as  the  ends  adopted  respond  to 
tlie  main  impulses  of  the  individual,  giving  scope,  for  example,  to 
his  emotional  needs  or  intellectual  poAver,  it  satisfies,  and  pro- 
vides the  substance  of  Happiness,  while  internal  confhct  and  still 
more  the  anarchy  resulting  from  the  loss  of  any  unifying  object 
are  felt  as  unhappiness  and  misery.  But  here  again  the  object 
is  not  chosen  as  a  means  to  happiness,  but  valued  as  an  end,  and 
the  same  quality  that  makes  it  valued  makes  of  the  experiences 
active  and  passive  Avhich  it  yields,  a  hfe  in  hving  which  we  feel 
happy.  Happiness  and  Will  are  thus  in  a  relation  analogous 
to  that  of  Pleasure  and  Desire.  Happiness  in  the  experience 
of  the  life  chosen  confirms  and  strengthens  the  line  of  choice. 
Misery,  discord,  and  the  sense  of  unfulfilment  inhibit  action,  and 
tend,  if  all  too  slowly,  to  re-shape  the  course.^ 

What  can  be  said  in  general  terms  of  the  objects  which  the 
will  adopts  ?  First,  the  conditions  of  evolution  determining 
the  genesis  alike  of  Desire  and  Pleasure,  and  Will  and  Happi- 
ness, secure  a  rough  and  broad  correlation  of  these  driving  and 
guiding  forces  of  action  with  the  vital  needs  of  the  race.     This  is 

^  The  question  of  the  relation  between  pleasure  and  desire,  will  and 
happiness,  may  be  put  in  a  simpler  form  by  asking,  e.  g.  whether  the  value 
of  a  given  object  consists  in  the  pleasure  derivable  from  it,  so  that  if  we 
imagine  the  pleasure  removed  the  value  would  disappear  also.  If  the 
answer  is  affirmative,  the  conclusion  may  be  drawn  that  the  thing  itself 
is  indifferent — merely  a  means  to  pleasure.  If  negative,  that  tlie  pleasure 
is,  as  it  were,  adventitioiis  and  irrelevant.  The  trvie  answer  rather  is  that 
the  pleasiu-e  we  take  in  a  thing  is  merely  another  expression  for  the  value 
we  attach  to  it.  But  the  value  is  attached  to  the  thing.  Or  if  we  prefer 
the  phrase,  the  pleasure  is  in  the  thing,  related  to  the  thing,  not  a  subsequent 
effect  which  the  thing  happens  to  produce  and  which  might  as  well  be 
produced  by  anj'thing  else. 


600  MORALS  IN   EVOLUTION 

true  of  the  springs  of  action  from  hunger  to  romantic  love  and 
from  fear  to  a  patriotic  devotion.  Thus  in  the  raw  material  of 
instinct  as  rough-hewn  by  heredity  there  is  a  potentiality  of 
harmony  between  impulse-feeling  and  the  permanent  require- 
ments of  life,  but  there  is  also  manifold  opportunity  for  conflict 
and  loss.  Not  only  may  one  impulse  clash  with  others,  but  the 
effort  after  self-control  may  take  the  form  of  stamping  out 
capacities  and  so  impoverishing  life.  Similarly  in  the  relations 
of  individuals  and  groups.  The  anarchic  self-interest  of  each 
segment  centred  on  that  which  makes  for  the  preservation  and 
expansion  of  its  own  stock  is  matched  by  the  narrowing  tenden- 
cies of  repressive  despotism.  Between  these  poles  rational  ethics 
seeks  the  line  of  harmony.  Instead  of  achieving  unity  by  the 
repression  of  any  given  capacity,  it  seeks,  if  possible,  to  take  it 
up,  transmute  it,  and  find  for  it  a  direction  in  which  it  may  work 
with  the  rest,  and  in  so  doing  it  makes  for  a  life  which  is  fuller  and 
more  harmonious.  Now  if  life  is  good — if,  that  is  to  say,  it  is 
the  maintenance  of  the  needs  of  the  individual  and  the  race  which 
forms  the  groundwork  of  our  aims  and  our  emotional  interests — 
then  a  fuller,  wider,  richer  life  is  better,  and  the  fullest,  widest, 
richest  life  the  best.  But  from  the  rational  point  of  view,  which 
contemplates  the  life  of  the  race  as  a  whole,  any  enrichment  of 
life  in  one  direction  which  is  necessarily  balanced  by  loss  in 
another  direction  cannot  on  the  whole  be  good.  The  race  as  a 
whole,  life  as  a  whole  is  its  concern,  and  the  fuller  life  which  it 
seeks  must  therefore  in  its  many-sided  activities  be  in  harmony 
with  itself.  The  aim  of  rational  ethics,  then,  is  the  harmonious 
development  of  the  racial  life,  and  this,  stated  in  terms  of  feehng, 
is  the  same  thing  as  general  happiness,  happiness  being  the  sense 
of  a  full  and  harmonious  life. 

This  analysis  of  Desire  and  Will,  Pleasure  and  Happiness  has 
thus  led  us  by  another  road  to  that  conception  of  a  synthesis  or 
harmony  of  Action  which  we  said  above  to  be  the  postulate  of  a 
rational  theory  of  moral  obhgation.  As  the  supreme  object  of 
endeavour  this  furtherance  of  the  collective  life  of  humanity 
becomes  the  standard  by  which  moral  rules  and  social  institutions 
are  to  be  judged.  This  object  includes  all  the  partial  aims  of 
man,  all  his  loves,  joys,  hopes,  ambitions,  tastes,  his  love  of 
family  and  fatherland — all,  so  far  as  they  do  not  antagonize  one 
another  but  co-operate.  Thus  it  rests  on  elements  of  feeling 
impUcit  from  the  first  in  the  moral  consciousness,  but  its  full 
apprehension  as  that  which  gives  meaning  to  all  earlier  develop 
ment  postulates  in  the  collective  mind  a  self-knowledge  and  self- 
guidance  parallel  to  the  self-consciousness  of  the  individual. 


MODERN  ETHICS  601 

Moral  progress  is  the  gradual  conversion  of  the  mind  whereby 
this  meaning  becomes  exphcit,  whereby  its  own  unity  becomes 
apparent  to  it,  and  the  potentialities  of  its  life  and  growth  as  a 
unity  are  grasped  as  the  supreme  object  of  endeavour,  and  the 
principle  governing  the  rules  of  right  and  wrong. 

In  essentials  this  principle  is  the  distinctive  achievement  of 
the  modern  mind.  It  is  true  that  in  the  central  conception 
of  harmony  modern  ethics  is  a  return  to  the  Greeks.  But  it 
returns  charged  with  all  the  protest  against  human  limita- 
tion^  all  the  romance,  the  chivalry,  the  sense  of  infinitude  which 
are  incarnate  in  mediaeval  and  modern  feeling.  Now  harmony 
implies  order,  measure  and  system.  Divergent  <ilements  can  be 
brought  into  a  unity  and  made  to  co-operate  only  when  each  is 
fined  and  polished  to  fit  in  with  its  neighbour.  Hence  symmetry, 
balance,  and  in  a  sense  limitation  are  the  features  which  always 
impress  us  in  the  Greek  ideal.  Itis,indeed,  easy  to  over-emphasize 
a  contrast  which  strikes  every  one  on  the  surface.  Plato,  after  all, 
is  the  first  great  Romanticist  with  his  insistence  on  Eros  as  the 
driving  force  even  in  the  world  of  pure  thought,  with  his  Philo- 
sopher King  who,  holding  fast  to  real  Beauty  and  real  Justice, 
moves  in  an  Elysian  region  far  above  the  turmoil  of  that  poor 
mankind  for  whose  sake  he  will  yet  descend  as  a  ruler  and 
guardian  into  their  cave,  with  his  just  man  sustained  by  that 
which  makes  him  indifferent  to  the  opinion  of  gods  and  men, 
who  will  meet  an  unjust  death  rather  than  break  the  laws  which 
human  government  is  mishandling  to  his  hurt.  Aristotle 
enshrines  the  same  spirit  in  four  words  which  thrill  through  his 
matter-of-fact  acknowledgment  of  human  weakness  when  he 
bids  the  thinker  as  far  as  may  be  "put  off  his  mortality."  The 
Stoic  brings  the  wise  man  in  direct  relation  to  the  supreme  reason 
that  controls  all  things,  and  sets  the  free  life  of  the  soul  above 
the  limits  of  all  physical  and  social  conditions.  None  the  less, 
the  ideal  to  which  all  alike  aspire  is  that  most  clearly  expressed 
by  Aristotle  as  the  perfection  of  a  type  which  is  in  essence  eternal 
and  immutable  in  a  universe  whose  process  consists  in  the  realiza- 
tion of  a  system  of  such  typical  forms,  and  the  notion  of  type, 
even  the  notion  of  perfection  involves  that  of  something  measur- 
able, defined,  and  in  the  last  resort  limited  and  statuesque.  When 
we  turn  to  mediaeval  life,  whether  to  its  poetry  or  its  action, 
to  its  religion  or  its  chivalry,  to  its  cloistered  chastity  or  its 
romantic  love,  whether  to  the  dim  vaults  of  its  cathedrals  or  to 
the  grotesques  of  their  gargoyles  or  misereres,  we  are  conscious 
of  a  wider  and  more  untamable  force,  a  breath  from  tlio  Teutonic 
forest  urging  on  to  the  unattainable  and  finding  no  joy  in  that 


j02  morals  in  evolution 

wliich  it  can  actually  reach.  We  feel  it  the  more  keenly  because 
it  is  confronted  vrith.  a  theory  of  subordination,  an  admission 
of  human  impotence  and  notliingness,  an  exaltation  of  divine 
majesty,  and  a  negation  of  earthly  life  crushing  with  vast  super- 
incumbent weight  the  forces  of  thought  and  imagination  that 
have  reared  it.  Every  impulse  of  man  is  raised  to  its  highest 
power  and  is  in  its  turn  supreme.  The  love  of  God  is  spoken  of 
in  terms  of  romantic  passion  and  the  love  of  woman  in  terms  of 
the  worship  of  God.  The  least  thought  of  the  flesh  is  deadly  and 
the  knight  is  stirred  to  golden  deeds  of  selfless  chivalry  by  the 
glance  of  a  woman's  eyes.  The  martyr  bears  utter  ignominy 
■without  raising  a  hand  in  self-defence,  and  personal  honour  com- 
pels a  man  to  \sipe  out  the  least  fleck  upon  it  in  the  blood  of  the 
assailant.  Cliarity  has  nothing  to  do  A\ith  that  liberality  which 
is  the  mean  in  the  expenditure  of  money.  It  is  to  divide  the  last 
coat  with  the  beggar  and  go  forth  in  rags  into  the  world.  The 
sainted  king  must  kiss  the  leper  and  ^Aash  the  beggar's  feet, 
yet  the  powers  that  be  are  ordained  of  God,  and  their  magnificence 
and  state  are  proper  adornments  of  the  heads  of  that  hierarcliical 
order  which  is  of  divine  institution.  The  pope  is  slave  of  the  slaves 
of  God,  but  5'et  is  the  summit  of  the  earthly  order,  with  power  to 
bind  and  loose  here  and  hereafter.  At  every  point  we  are  taken 
beyond  what  is  actually  or  even  possibly  human.  The  require- 
ment that  man  sets  upon  himself  is  infinite — not  the  harmony  of 
measured  parts  each  rounded  to  perfection  in  itself,  and  as  such 
filhng  its  due  place  in  order  with  the  rest,  but  the  measureless 
wliich  this  life  cannot  attain  and  wliich  experience  can  only 
symbolize.  But  by  the  most  tragic  contradiction  of  all,  the  theory 
of  the  infinite,  the  system  of  salvation,  is  the  one  thing  that  is 
worked  out  to  compact  and  finite  form,  and  in  the  end  to  dull 
and  deadly  prose.  The  mediaeval  scheme  of  divine  government, 
with  its  frigid  distinctions,  its  cold  hierarchies  of  conceptions,  its 
dismembering  of  truth,  applies  the  Aristotelian  logic  to  the 
establishment  of  an  order  more  statical  than  tliat  of  its  progenitor, 
and  mechanical  in  its  interpretation  of  nature  and  spirit  where 
Aristotle  had  ever  sought  for  an  organic  view.  The  implicit 
infinitude  of  the  mediaeval  mind  broke  upon  the  strong  finitude 
of  its  theory.^  Modern  thought,  breaking  away  by  successive 
wrenches  from  mediaeval  disciphne  and  urgent  to  found  a  theory 
of  life  which  it  can  justify  in  reason,  is  still  confronted  by  a  very 
similar  dilemma.  The  rational  appeal  is  to  the  nature  and 
experience  of  man,  the  rational  impulse  is  to  introduce  harmony 

'  Cf.  ou  the  whole  of  the  above,  Taylor,  The  Medlaval  Mind,  esp. 
Book  II.  chap.  xiv.  ]  Book  III.  chaps,  xv.,  svii.,  ssiii. ;  Book  VII. 
chap.  xliv. 


I 


MODERN  ETHICS  603 

into  effort  and  life,  but  in  human  nature  itself  lies  the  effort 
to  transcend  it,  in  human  experience  the  questions  that  point 
beyond  it,  in  the  ethical  impulse  that  makes  for  harmony  qualities 
that  brook  no  limitation  and  break  up  any  estabhshed  finite 
order.  Hence,  though  social  order  is  Ander  and  in  outer  relations 
generally  more  tranquil,  there  is  a  deeper  and  more  perpetual 
unrest  and  a  SAvift,  unceasing  s'oing  of  thought.  But  though 
there  is  paradox  here  and  a  problem,  there  is  no  insuperable  con- 
tradiction. Such  order,  intellectual  or  practical,  as  imperfect 
man  can  estabhsh  is  never  complete  and  albembracing,  but 
limited  and  provisional.  It  has  to  expand,  and  the  rebellious 
elements  are  the  ferment  that  maintain  life  and  make  for  growth. 
But  that  element  wliich  is  the  spring  of  progress  has  a  value  which 
in  the  coolest  rational  assessment  must  stand  high,  and  all  the 
higher,  in  accordance  with  the  strictest  scientific  calculus  of 
demand  and  supply,  for  its  rarity.  It  is  true  that  devotion 
to  an  impossible  cause  may  waste  much  energy  and  break  the 
life  of  the  individual.  But  the  spirit  wliich  sustains  such  devo- 
tion is  the  most  vital  thing  in  the  world,  and  it  is  better  that  it 
should  live  and  act  unwisely  than  perish  from  not  acting  at  all. 
The  deeper  issues  are  apt  to  be  stirred  only  at  certain  points  of 
concentrated  interest,  and  at  first  blush  there  alwaj^s  seems  some- 
tliing  irrational  in  preferring  a  single  object  to  the  whole  order  of 
normal  hfe.  But  in  reahty,  if  we  could  start  from  one  of  these 
points  of  decision  and  deploy  all  the  fine  of  consequences  upon 
the  plane  of  ordinary  experience,  it  would  be  found  to  cover 
ground  enough  in  mere  magnitude  to  justify  the  value  which  we 
place  upon  the  issue.  The  theoretical  problem  of  ethics  is  to 
effect  tills  measure,  and  thus  fhid  place  in  a  rational  system  for 
that  which  on  an  over-simphfied  view  figures  as  irrational.  Its 
practical  problem  is  to  find  the  real  direction  of  these  impulses 
and  so  convert  them  from  wasting  torrents  to  irrigating  streams 
in  human  life.  To  do  this  is  to  make  them  aware  of  their  origin 
in  human  needs  and  their  function  in  human  emancipation.  In 
this  the  modern  spirit  has  so  far  succeeded  as  to  transfer  the 
devotion  of  the  martyr  and  the  fixe  of  the  prophet  to  causes 
more  real  and  free  from  selfish  alloy  than  that  of  personal  salva- 
tion. It  has  spent  them  in  no  niggardly  measure  on  the  hbera- 
tion  of  a  nation,  a  class,  or  a  sex,  on  the  emancipation  of  the 
slave  and  the  industrial  toiler,  on  the  healing  of  the  sick,  on 
the  advancement  of  knowledge,  the  exploration  of  the  earth,  the 
conquest  of  material  power.  From  the  French  movement  of  the 
mid-eighteenth  century  onwards  it  has  thus  in  a  manner  united 
the  enthusiasm  of  the  Orient,  the  fighting  spirit  of  the  Crusader 


604  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

and  the  social  rationalism  of  the  Greek.  For  it  has  emphasized 
the  claims  of  the  individual,  his  rights,  his  conscience  no  less 
than  his  duties,  and  has  often  set  the  established  order  at  naught 
if  it  has  seemed  to  violate  what  is  sacred  to  personality.  Liberty 
and  social  service  are  the  poles  on  which  it  turns,  and  to  find  the 
true  meaning  of  the  one  and  the  end  and  method  of  the  other  is 
the  task  of  social  theory.  The  ethics  that  is  to  do  justice  to  this 
liberating  and  yet  constructive  movement  must  aim  not  at  a 
complete  and  static  harmony  but  at  one  that  moves  and  adapts 
itself  to  growth.  Its  model  is  not  the  completed  circle,  but 
rather  the  cycle  of  the  foliage  ending  in  the  point  which  enfolds 
the  leaf -buds  of  next  spring. 

These  changes  affect  the  idea  of  harmony  in  what  we  may  call 
its  form.  The  whole  sum  of  intervening  experience  since  the 
days  of  the  classical  philosophers  has  also  deepened  and  enlarged 
its  content.  To  formulate  the  character  of  changes  so  complex 
in  any  summary  terms  may  well  seem  a  hopeless  task.  At  most 
we  may  hope  to  seize  certain  pivotal  points  on  which  develop- 
ment turns.  The  earlier  Greek  ethics  of  the  fifth  and  fourth 
centuries  achieved  a  reasoned  ideal  of  personal  character  and 
social  order  in  harmonious  interaction.  But  its  personal  ideal 
was  on  the  whole  aristocratic  and  its  social  ideal  statical  and 
restricted  by  the  limitations  of  the  city  state.  The  later  moralists 
and,  in  particular,  the  Stoics,  applying  the  law  of  nature  as  a 
living  principle  of  criticism,  expanded  the  conception  of  human 
brotherhood,  made  the  individual — noble  or  base  born,  Greek  or 
barbarian,  bond  or  free — the  master  of  his  fate,  and  set  forth  the 
simpler  elements  of  a  world  polity.  But  in  the  Stoic  period  free 
social  organization  is  alread}^  giving  way  to  centralized  military 
empire,  a  constructive  social  scheme  is  ceasing  to  be  possible, 
and  the  individual  is,  on  the  whole,  left  to  grapple  with  his  social 
surroundings  as  best  he  may.  Still,  the  Stoic  universalism 
prepared  the  way  for  the  doctrine  of  salvation,  which  we  may 
take  as  the  pivot  of  the  Christian  ethics.  Now,  salvation  is  not 
merely  open  to  all  men  who  accept  Christ.  It  is  equally  the 
duty  of  all  Christians  to  secure  the  salvation  of  their  brothers 
and  sisters.  Universalism  thus  acquires  a  new  meaning.  It  is 
not  merely  that  all  have  a  certain  minimum  of  rights,  but  that 
all  owe  to  all  a  duty  which  touches  the  essentials  of  being.  The 
missionary  spirit,  the  work  of  practical  redemption,  takes  a  place 
which  only  a  religion  could  give  it.  It  is  the  duty  of  each  man 
not  only  to  save  himself,  but  his  brother.  In  another  way  the 
universalist  principle  is  richer  in  content,  for  the  Christian  sal- 
vation is  not  confined  to  the  strong  and  wise,  but  is  within  the 


MODERN  ETHICS  605 

reach  of  babes  and  siicldings,  and  the  humbleHt  soul  has  a  vakie 
wliich  is  in  a  sense  infinite,  seeing  that  no  gain  elsewhere  can 
replace  its  loss.  There  is  here  at  bottom  the  most  thorough- 
going doctrine  of  equality  and  the  most  comprehensive  hope  for 
all  men  ever  preached,  and  this  core  of  ethical  religion  remains, 
however  woefully  overlaid  with  the  husks  of  sectarian  narrow- 
ness and  doctrinal  strife.  Yet,  the  doctrine  of  brotherhood 
and  the  missionary  spirit  notwithstanding,  the  Christian  ethics 
remained  at  its  centre  individualist  and  supernaturalist.  It  is 
the  individual  soul  that  is  to  be  saved,  and  its  salvation  is  a 
preparation  for  another  world.  The  distinctive  note  of  modern 
ethics  is  the  return  to  the  social  and  the  positive  point  of  view. 
The  salvation  of  every  man  and  woman  is  still  one  pole  of  ethics, 
but  it  is  one  pole  only.  Salvation  is  to  be  within  this  life  and 
for  this  life.  It  stands  not  only  in  the  possession  of  the  soul  in 
complete  self-mastery,  but  in  an  organic  relation  to  a  wider  life 
— in  its  simplest  form  a  personal  relation  to  other  individuals, 
in  its  wider  and  more  complex  forms  an  impersonal  relation  to 
the  life  of  the  community  and  the  race.  But  salvation  so  con- 
ceived cannot  be  compassed  by  the  individual  alone  or  by  mis- 
sionary effort  to  the  individual  as  an  individual.  There  must 
equally  be  a  social  salvation.  Society  has  a  soul  to  be  saved, 
and  its  salvation  is  in  the  justice,  humanity  and  freedom  reahzed 
in  its  inward  and  outward  relations.  Only  under  such  institu- 
tions and  in  response  to  such  governing  principles  can  the  in- 
dividual find  his  right  niche  and  do  the  work  which  is  to  make 
the  best  of  himself  and  the  best  service  to  his  kind.  The  Greek 
harmony  returns,  but  charged  with  deeper  and  richer  content. 
It  is  not  merely  the  harmony  between  the  self-development  of 
a  wise  and  strong  man  and  the  requirements  of  a  civic  order 
which  he,  as  one  of  the  ruhng  class,  helps  to  maintain.  It  is  the 
wider  and  more  difficult  harmony  between  the  claims  of  human 
nature  in  its  infinite  variety,  in  all  its  ascending  and  descending 
range  of  power  and  scope,  to  find  expression  and  live  its  life,  and 
a  claim  of  the  collective  effort,  itself  hardly  less  variable  and  self- 
conflicting,  towards  the  realization  of  great  ends  common  to  the 
race.  The  actual  social  order,  including  in  that  term  the  system 
of  ethical  and  religious  ideas  along  with  the  body  of  institutions, 
is  of  the  nature  of  an  experiment  in  the  organization  of  life.  Its 
value  is  relative  on  the  one  hand  to  the  requirements  of  every 
individual  soul  within  its  sway,  on  the  other  to  the  life  of  man- 
kind as  a  whole.  To  bring  these  two  poles  into  relation  is  the 
problem  of  modern  ethics.  Thus,  where  the  Greek  sought  a 
harmony  between  the  self -development  of  the  individual  and  the 


606  MORALS   IN   EVOLUTION 

stability  of  the  social  order,  the  modern  seeks  a  social  order 
which  shall  reconcile  the  ultimate  claims  of  every  individual 
upon  societ}^  with  the  claims  of  collective  human  progress  upon 
each  constituent  social  unit.  Ancient  ethics  worked  up  to  the 
doctrine  of  universal  salvation  with  the  warmth  of  brotherhood 
and,  further,  of  missionary  zeal  which  this  implies.  Modern 
ethics  has  restored  to  this  doctrine  the  social  and  positive 
content  which  it  lost ;  and  thus  effects  a  synthesis  of  the  Greek 
and  the  Christian  teaching  of  social  statesmansliip  and  apostolic 
ardour. 

Finally,  the  positive  conception  of  ethics  in  relation  to  the 
modern  idea  of  development  carries  with  it  a  penetrating 
change  in  the  ethical  point  of  view.  Common  sense  evolves  for 
itself  a  certain  practical  standard  with  which  the  thinker  starts. 
That  standard  is  at  first  his  own,  and  to  get  from  it  to  a  reasoned 
system  he  has  to  view  his  own  mental  make-up  from  outside, 
to  regard  it  as  something  due  to  determinate  conditions,  to  find 
out  what  these  conditions  are,  and  to  distinguish  what  is  per- 
manent and  necessary  in  their  operation  from  that  which  is 
transitory  or  accidental.  This  is  the  relative  standpoint,  which 
is  characteristic  of  modern  thought  and  is  essential  to  the  full 
appreciation  of  development. 

Ancient  thought,  it  is  true,  recognized  a  conventional  element 
in  established  custom,  and  contrasted  it  with  the  natural,  which 
is  the  same  everywhere.  But,  to  the  modern,  nature  is  itself  a  pro- 
cess and  human  nature  a  composite  product — the  very  structure 
of  our  moral  consciousness  depending  on  anterior  conditions. 
Now,  if  we  are  to  attain  an  objective — that  is,  a  rational — 
standard,  we  must  lay  bare  these  conditions.  We  must  resolve 
the  structural  concepts  wliich  at  first  we  take  for  granted — con- 
cepts such  as  self  and  others,  good  and  bad,  right  and  duty,  with 
the  experiences  out  of  which  and  the  thought  processes  by  which 
they  are  built  up.  Starting  from  these  elements  we  can  thus  re- 
cognize in  the  ethical  code  of  mankind  from  the  most  primitive 
onwards,  beginnings  of  a  synthesis,  incomplete  and  inconsistent, 
no  doubt,  yet,  such  as  they  are,  the  indispensable  basis  of  social 
life.  Through  many  failures  and  relapses,  these  beginnings  are,  on 
thiswhole,  enlarged  in  response  to  the  needs  of  a  wider  social  life. 
The  movement  is  referable,  both  in  its  origin  and  its  advance, 
to  those  elements  of  thought  and  feeling  which  we  have  here 
gathered  together  under  the  name  of  practical  rationality. 
S  ich  rationality,  co-operating  in  countless  individuals  through 
t'le  generations,  is  a  real  bond  of  unity  in  mankind,  and  it  is  this 
unifying  piinciple  that   has   been  called   Humanity.     Now,  in 


MODERN  ETHICS  G07 

the  culmination  of  ancient  ethics  man  was  to  serve  humanity  as 
a  community  within  the  kosmos,  but  Ave  might  say  rather  that 
humanity  is  that — call  it  spiritual  principle,  organic  unity  or  by 
v/hatever  inadequate  name  we  may — which  works  towards  the 
realization  of  a  kosmos  that  is  as  yet  a  very  distant  ideal,  and 
not  only  are  duties  owed  to  it,  but  its  needs  prescribe  what  our 
duties  are.  Hence,  though  our  argument  has  gone  to  show  that 
our  etliics  are  founded  on  deep-ljdng  instincts,  and  though  the 
humanitarian  idea  is  held  to  be  only  the  explicit  recognition  of  a 
principle  that  was  all  along  implied  in  the  conscious  moral  judg- 
ments of  mankind,  yet  the  effect  of  this  principle,  once  recognized, 
is  a  Copernican  change  of  attitude.  Hitherto  human  conduct 
has  been  conceived  as  bound  by  law — first  by  divine  law,  then  by 
natural  law.  But  if  the  humanitarian  principle  is  correct,  man 
is  not  made  for  the  law,  but  the  law  for  humanity.  Instead  of 
supernatural  religion  being  the  basis  of  ethics,  ethics  becomes 
the  test  to  which  such  rehgion  must  submit.  The  relative  value 
of  the  creeds  is  measured  by  their  ethical  efficacy,  and  the  ethical 
consciousness  is  seen  to  be  the  only  firm  point  of  departure  for 
any  attempt  at  a  spiritual  interpretation  of  nature.  As  with 
religions,  so  with  social  institutions.  Property,  contract,  mar- 
riage, the  position  of  women,  class  distinctions,  political  obliga- 
tions, the  right  of  warfare  and  of  conquest — all  these  in  olden 
days  were  founded  on  custom  and  supported  by  divine  authority. 
Wlioso  would  seek  the  good  of  society  must  work  within  the 
limits  thus  rigidly  laid  dowai  by  the  moral  or  the  religious 
tradition.  When  revolts  against  these  limitations  occurred,  they 
took  the  form  of  appeals  to  expediency,  or  perhaps  of  a  sweep- 
ing denial  of  moral  obligation,  or,  again,  of  the  assertion  of  some 
counter  principle  of  no  greater  claims  than  that  which  was  called 
in  question.  In  a  rationalistic  system  of  morals  the  whole  point 
of  view  is  changed.  These  institutions  have  grown  up  in  rough 
accordance  with  the  circumstances  of  social  life,  but  they  have 
no  value  or  vahdity  except  in  so  far  as  they  subserve  human  needs. 
On  the  other  hand,  they  are  not  to  be  set  aside  on  particular 
occasions  when  they  happen  to  be  inconvenient,  as  the  doctrine 
of  expediency  suggests,  not  only  because  in  the  long  run  nothing 
is  so  inexpedient  as  the  practice  of  unsetthng  society,  but  also 
because  the  rights  and  duties  recognized  by  the  ordinary  con- 
sciousness when  viewed  genetically  are  seen  to  have  arisen  in 
response  to  social  needs,  and  to  contain  elements,  however 
roughly  put,  of  ethical  truth.  They  are  like  the  empirical 
generalizations  of  common  sense  which  contain  truth,  though 
not  accurately  true  as  they  stand,  and  historically  speaking  they 


608  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

are  seen  to  develop,  to  expand,  define  themselves,  deepen  and 
purify  their  meaning  as  etliical  thought  has  developed.  Thus 
they  lie  ready  to  hand  as  a  basis  for  a  scientific  sociology. 
Sociology,  therefore,  is  not  compelled  to  start  from  an  empty 
slate  and  consider  what  in  each  case  would  promote  the  greatest 
happiness  of  the  greatest  number.  It  has  rather  to  take  the 
institutions  it  finds,  and  aim  at  a  scientific  determination  of  the 
function  which  they  fill  in  the  life  of  humanity.^  Take  the  case 
of  private  property,  for  example.  Here  is  an  institution  which 
from  one  point  of  view  may  be  regarded  as  the  only  method  of 
securing  to  the  workman  the  fruits  of  his  toil.  Under  suitable 
conditions  it  may  in  reality  have  that  effect.  Under  other 
conditions  it  may  as  easily  become  the  means  of  excluding  the 
great  mass  of  the  people  from  the  means  of  earning  an  indepen- 
dent livehhood.  When  the  right  of  property  is  made  absolute, 
whether  as  right  natural  or  right  divine,  there  is  no  ethical  means 
of  discriminating  between  the  two  cases.  All  the  wealth  of  the 
country  might  fall  into  a  single  hand,  as  in  Mr.  Wells's  romance, 
yet  if  it  were  in  the  bond,  society  could  do  nothing  but  submit. 
Rights  pushed  to  this  point  are  answered  by  rebellion,  and  are 
therefore  justlj''  stigmatized  by  Bentham  as  anarchical  fallacies. 
They  provoke  the  doctrine  of  pure  expediency,  which  denies  that 
there  is  any  right  but  the  welfare  of  society,  and  forgets  that  it 
is  essential  to  the  welfare  of  society  that  the  obhgations  and 
expectations  of  its  members  should  be  defined  and  secured.  The 
rationalist  criticism  of  property  would  have  to  meet  all  these 
points.  It  would  have  to  discuss  the  functions  which  the  in- 
stitution of  property  performs,  and  so  define  it  as  to  secure  that 
it  should  perform  those  functions  and  obstruct  no  other  useful 
organ  of  the  social  structure.  It  could  not  be  satisfied  with 
upsetting  generally  recognized  rights  wherever  they  happen  to 
be  inconvenient,  nor  with  the  permanent  maintenance  of  rights 
which  can  be  shown  to  entail  a  balance  of  evil  consequences. 
It  would  have  to  take  the  institution  of  property  and  examine 
it  in  all  its  developments  and  ramifications,  to  consider  in- 
heritance and  bequest,  the  nature  of  exchange  and  the  resulting 

^  The  great  historical  example  of  this  method  is,  of  course,  the  work  of 
Bentham.  For  an  estimate  of  the  reforms  achieved  under  his  influence,  see 
Dicey,  Law  and  Opmion  in  England,  pp.  183-209.  Professor  Dicey,  in 
whom  after  many  years  Bentham  at  length  finds  a  fair  judge,  does  not 
ignore  the  limitations  of  the  Utilitarian  basis.  These,  in  fact,  were  svich 
as  to  render  sure  going  possible  only  so  far  as  the  means  to  the  general 
happiness  were  matter  of  obvious  common  sense.  For  the  more  complex 
problems — economical,  social,  religious,  political — of  the  modern  world  a 
scientific  sociology  is  needed,  and  the  need  is  even  more  urgent  than  in 
Bentham 's  time. 


MODERN  ETHICS  609 

distribution  of  wealth  under  the  conditions  of  modern  industry, 
the  effects  of  monopoly  and  the  growth  of  values  arising  from 
the  increase  of  population,  the  morality  of  acquiring  wealth 
from  occupations  injurious  to  the  people  at  large — these  and 
countless  other  details  have  to  come  up  for  judgment  in  a  scien- 
tific reconstruction  of  the  nature  and  measure  of  the  rights  of 
property  which  a  rational  scheme  of  ethics  would  recognize  as 
•suitable  to  be  mainta.ined  in  the  permanent  interests  of  society. 

9.  Such  a  reconstruction  is  not  the  work  of  a  day — and 
in  social  development,  be  it  remembered,  a  hundred  years  are 
but  as  yesterday.  If  we  would  know  the  fruits  wliich  ethical 
rationalism  has  borne  we  must  seek  them,  not  in  the  work  of  any 
one  school  which  has  apprehended  the  principle  in  all  its  fulness 
— for  no  such  finality  is  as  yet,  if  it  is  ever,  possible — but  scattered 
in  the  work  of  different  and  often  opposing  schools,  in  which 
the  principle  has  been  apprehended  partially  or  under  different 
aspects.  Indeed,  the  influence  of  the  humanitarian  spirit  in  the 
modern  Avorld  has  been  far  mder  than  that  of  all  the  schools 
which  could  be  called  distinctively  humanitarian.*  For  where 
there  are  few  who  will  agree  that  human  ethics  form  the  root 
from  which  all  true  knowledge  of  rehgion  springs,  there  are  many 
who  ^\'ill  admit  that  the  relation  between  religion  and  ethics  has 
been  in  a  manner  reversed  in  the  modern  world,  so  that  whereas 
ethics  was  formerly  based  on  rehgion,  religion  is  now  deemed  to 
have  its  firmest  root  in  ethics.  Many,  again,  who  would  doubt 
or  reject  the  conclusions  reached  above  as  to  the  ultimate  basis 
of  obligation,  would  yet  admit  that  humanitarian  ethics,  whether 
acting  directly  or  through  a  revivified  rehgious  consciousness, 
has  had  a  large  share  in  the  distinctive  changes  that  have  made 
the  modern  state  and  the  civilization  of  the  modern  world.  In 
this  broader  sense  humanitarianism  has,  in  fact,  touched  every 
department  of  practical  morals — class  and  racial  divisions,  the 
position  of  women,  the  law  of  marriage,  the  criminal  law,  the 

1  Still  more  obviously  is  it  wider  than  any  school  or  schools  of  Philosophy. 
The  distinctive  ideas  of  the  modern  mind  have  expressed  themselves  in  a 
thousand  ways,  in  lyric  poetry  and  in  music,  in  fiction  and  the  drama,  as 
well  as  in  avowed  political  and  sociological  or  religious  disc\ission.  In 
particular,  the  contrast  between  the  realities  of  human  nature  and  the  con- 
ventional assumption  of  traditional  ethics  has  been  handled  with  moro 
boldness  and  far  more  wealth  of  detail  by  the  novelist  and  the  dramatist 
than  by  the  professed  philosopher.  If  in  the  text  I  have  confined  myself 
to  philosophy,  it  is  because  here  the  movement  of  thought  receives,  not 
indeed  its  fullest  expression,  but  its  most  exact  analysis,  and  is  therefore 
presented  in  the  form  most  easily  comparable  with  the  thought  of  earlier 
stages. 


610  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

law  of  war,  the  rights  and  duties  of  states,  the  claims  of 
nationality,  the  right  of  property,  the  law  of  contract,  the  rights 
of  association  and  of  citizenship,  the  equality  of  religions.  We 
find  the  humanitarian  spirit  in  that  re-casting  of  values  which 
makes  the  infliction  of  miserj'  on  mankind  a  sin  not  to  be  erased 
by  any  access  of  national  glory.  We  find  it  in  the  heightened 
sympathies  which  begin  to  make  cruelty  a  crime,  and  in  the 
calmer  insight  into  human  nature  which  banishes  the  use  of 
cruelty  in  the  repression  of  crime.  We  find  it  in  the  heightened 
belief  in  the  power  of  reason  which  suggests  that  in  the  end 
rational  suasion  and  just  treatment  are  better  methods  of  leading 
men  to  see  what  is  good  for  them  than  the  shorter  and  sharper  ex- 
pedients of  the  drill  sergeant,  that  freedom  to  advocate  error  is  the 
best  social  safeguard  for  truth,  and  to  rule  by  the  consent  of  the 
governed  the  surest  road  to  social  stability.  Humanitarianism, 
indeed,  has  justified  the  Christian  ethics  on  its  positive  side.  As 
against  those  who  maintained  that  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  had 
only  an  ideal  meaning  applicable  to  a  better  world,  it  has  vindi- 
cated the  practical  application  of  the  Beatitudes  to  this  world  of 
ours.  It  has  shown  that  when  we  look  at  matters  from  the  point 
of  view  of  common  humanity  it  is  true  that  there  is  none  so 
lowly  but  he  must  be  considered  equally  with  the  noblest,  that 
the  spirit  of  mild  equity  is  better  even  in  the  interests  of  order 
than  that  of  harshness,  that  it  is  a  hard  fact  that  hatred  does  not 
cease  by  hatred  but  by  love,  that  the  fundamental  remedy  for 
evil  and  for  error  is  not  physical  force  but  spiritual  regeneration. 
In  a  similar  spirit  it  has  been  able  to  show  that  in  industry  it 
is  not  the  hard  master  but  the  liberal  employer  who  practises 
the  best  economy,  that  from  the  mere  point  of  view  of  the  output 
free  labour  is  better  than  slavery,  and  highly  organized  labour 
than  that  of  the  sweater's  den ;  that  in  politics  self-government 
is  a  better  preservative  of  union  than  a  centralized  despotism, 
and  that  order  is  best  maintained  when  those  who  have  to  obey 
share  in  the  framing  of  the  rules.  In  a  word,  it  has  not  only 
reconstructed  ethics,  but  it  has  shown  that  the  ethical  is  valid — 
that  it  works  as  a  force  to  be  reckoned  with  in  human  affairs. 
But  with  no  less  emphasis  ethical  rationalism  has  insisted  on 
that  active  development  of  human  qualities  which  supernatural 
rehgions  have  too  often  ignored.  It  has  justified  individuals, 
classes,  creeds,  nationalities,  that  have  stood  resolutely  by  their 
rights  and  fought  for  their  liberties.  It  has  fostered  the  newer 
education  of  the  faculties  and  ridiculed  the  sentimentalism  which 
regarded  all  independent  initiative  in  one  half  of  the  race  as  a 
kind  of  indecency.     In  short,  it  has  conceived  the   permanent 


MODERN  ETHICS  611 

elevation  of  both  sexes  and  all  classes  to  a  life  in  which  they 
could  enjoy  that  free  and  full  cultivation  of  their  powers,  which 
the  beat  of  the  older  civilizations  only  imagined  to  be  possible 
for  a  narrow  class. 

Of  the  future  of  rationalism  it  is  not  our  business  to  speak. 
We  are  not  concerned  with  prophecy,  but  with  the  analysis  of 
past  and  present  tendencies.  But  one  common  misconception 
has,  I  hope,  been  avoided  in  the  account  here  given.  There  is  a 
tendency  to  tliink  of  any  "  rational "  system  as  claiming  a  certain 
finality,  as  forming  as  it  were  a  closed  circle  from  which  the  world 
of  imagination  is  quite  shut  out.  Nothing  could  be  further  from 
the  true  spirit  of  reason,  which  insists  as  a  first  principle  on  the 
relativity  of  all  human  conceptions,  on  the  narrowness  of  the 
area  reclaimed  by  knowledge  as  compared  with  the  ocean  of 
reality,  and  on  the  unlimited  power  of  human  capacity  to  expand 
and  explore.  Notlung  is  more  certain,  if  the  rationalist  doctrine 
is  true,  than  that  doctrine  itself  will  grow,  and,  as  growth  imphes, 
will  change.  But,  precisely  because  such  changes  are  to  be  ex- 
pected, any  attempt  to  define  their  outcome  must  be  valueless. 
The  rational  ideal  must  be  an  ideal  of  growth  that  can  accept 
change,  and  as  it  were  assimilate  it.  We  may  hold  the  expan- 
sion of  human  faculty,  the  perfecting  of  social  unity,  the  as- 
cendency of  mind  over  the  conditions  of  nature  and  its  own 
existence,  for  formulas  wliich  in  different  words  express  im- 
perfectly, but  in  the  best  way  at  present  attainable,  the  supreme 
end  in  which  all  human  interests  are  summed  up.  But  whither 
this  expansion,  this  growing  sovereignty  will  lead  us,  is  a  question 
to  which  we  can  return  no  certain  answer.  We  stand  on  the 
edge  of  illimitable,  unexplored  regions,  into  which  our  vision 
penetrates  but  a  little  way.  But  at  least  we  can  dismiss  as 
foolish  the  fear  that  science  will  exhaust  the  interest  of  reality, 
or  peace  destroy  the  excitement  of  hfe,  or  the  reign  of  reason 
cramp  imagination.  The  conquests  of  mind  have  a  very  different 
effect.  The  more  territory  that  it  brings  under  its  sway,  the 
vaster  the  unconquered  world  looms  beyond. 

Note. — This  chapter  has  been  revised  at  a  time  when  the  humanitarian 
ethics  is  under  echpse,  and  in  re-publishing  it  the  writer  is  aware  that  he  lays 
himself  open  to  a  criticism  and  a  question.  The  criticism  would  be  that  he 
has  given  no  space  to  the  rival  which  for  the  time  being  has  gained  the  upper 
hand,  the  principle  of  forcible  self-assertion  in  its  various  forms.  Tlie 
types  of  thought  which  radiate  from  this  conception  as  a  centre  certainly 
deserve  close  analysis,  but  this  analysis  would  belong  rather  to  a  work  on 
ethical  theory  and  its  applications  than  to  one  concerned  with  the  main 
outlines  of  ethical  development.  A  doctrine  which  the  writer  regards  not 
as  ethical  but  as  anti-ethical  could  only  come  within  his  scope  if  he  were 
to  follow  oixt  evex-y  branch  and  side-track  of  misdirected  thinking,  which 


612  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

is  foreign  to  his  purpose.  But  at  this  point  the  question  may  be  raised 
whether  the  doctrine  of  super-morahty — the  indifference  of  the  strong 
man  or  of  the  strong  government  to  the  claims  of  personahty  or  the  rights 
of  other  people — does  not  really  express  the  main  tendency  of  the  modern 
mind.  Hiananitarianism,  it  may  be  held,  was  a  temporary  product  of  the 
eighteenth  and  nineteenth  centuries.  The  movement  which  set  in  with 
full  vigour  after  1870  is  conceived  by  the  huinanitarian  as  a  reaction,  but 
has  the  twentieth  century  and  the  future  with  it.  To  that  we  may  reply 
that  it  may  have  the  future  with  it — that  no  one  can  foretell — but  it  will 
not  be  a  future  of  civilization.  It  may  be  that  the  humanitarian  spirit  is 
not  yet  strong  and  coherent  enough  to  establish  itself,  that  its  partial  and 
qualified  successes  represent  a  culminating  point  in  civilization,  and  that 
the  world  will  have  to  undergo  another  period  of  re-barbarization  before 
it  pulls  itself  together  for  a  more  enduring  effort.  But  prediction  in 
sociology  is  a  fond  thing  vainly  invented.  We  set  out  at  the  beginning  to 
analyze  and  compare  stages  of  ethical  development,  and  of  these  the  highest 
and  most  distinctive  of  the  modem  mind,  whatever  its  influence  or  its 
future  fate  may  be,  is,  I  would  still  contend,  humanitariani.sni. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

THE    LINE    OF    ETHICAL    DEVELOPMENT 

1.  Ethics  as  treated  in  the  present  work  is  the  study  of  the 
regulation  of  life.  Tliis  regulation,  as  we  saw  in  chapter  i., 
begins  in  the  animal  Avorld.  We  find  it,  indeed,  in  the  lowest 
grades  of  life.  For  while  at  this  level  intelligence,  in  the  sense  of 
the  purposeful  use  of  the  animals'  own  experience,  plays  a  small, 
perhaps  at  the  bottom  of  all,  a  vanisliing  part  of  the  matter, 
action  is  determined  in  almost  every  detail  by  methods  of  re- 
sponse to  stimulus  (internal  or  external)  which  are  fixed  by  the 
structure  inherited  by  each  indi\adual  from  its  ancestors.  There 
is  every  probabihty  that  these  methods,  which  display  a  general, 
though  by  no  means  perfect,  adjustment  to  the  requirements 
of  the  organism  are  in  an  indirect  sense  actually  determined 
by  those  requirements.  In  every  generation  individuals  which 
gave  the  responses  best  suited  to  preserve  themselves  and  bring 
offspring  into  the  world  would  probably  survive  in  the  largest 
numbers,  and  by  the  constant  repetition  of  this  process  structures, 
fixedly  determining  the  most  suitable  response  to  each  kind  of 
stimulus,  would  arise  and  be  handed  on.  In  this  exceedingly 
slow,  cumbrous  and  roundabout  method,  some  of  the  experiences 
of  the  past  generation  (those,  namely,  which  directly  affect  life, 
death,  and  reproduction)  determine  the  behaviour  of  the  present 
generation,  and  so  determine  it  as  to  aid  in  assuring  the  future 
maintenance  of  the  race.  Thus,  from  the  lowest  organic  grades 
upwards  we  have  a  rough  correlation  of  the  past,  present  and 
future  experience  of  the  species. 

The  simplest  responses  so  determined  are,  as  we  saw,  of  the 
Reflex  type.  These  proceed  with  an  almost  unvarjdng  mechani- 
cal sameness,  with  little,  if  any,  adaptability  to  varying  needs. 
But  at  a  slightly  higher  stage  there  appear  Instincts  which, 
though  they  are  generically  inlierited  modes  of  response  with 
essentially  the  same  history  and  function,  are  more  elastic  in 
their  operation  and  admit,  as  they  expound,  of  correction  by 
experience  and  modification  according  t6  varjang  requirements. 
Such  instincts,  as  has  been  remarked,  are  not  confined  in  their 
function  to  the  service  of  the  individ;ial.    They  are  directed  to 

613 


614  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

the  production  of  the  young  as  well  as  to  the  maintenance  of 
the  life  of  the  parent.  At  a  fairly  low  level  they  are  directed, 
further,  to  the  preservation  of  the  young  when  produced.  At 
first  very  rudimentary,  parental  care  assumes  more  and  more 
importance  as  we  ascend  the  scale  and  as  intelligence  arises  to 
assist  it,  but  there  is  no  reason  to  doubt  that  its  basis  is  through- 
out instinctive.  That  instincts  of  this  kind  should  arise  in  the 
animal  world  might,  indeed,  be  expected  from  the  operation  of 
those  conditions  under  wliich  instinct  has  grown  up.  What  we 
have  supposed  is  that  certain  stocks  have  survived  in  prepon- 
derating proportion  in  so  far  as  the  behaviour  of  their  members 
was  well  adapted  for  the  maintenance  of  the  stock,  and  the  pro- 
duction and  care  for  the  young  by  each  individual  or  each  pair 
would  be  as  important  an  element  in  this  process  as  the  preser- 
vation of  each  individual  itself.  Thus  biology  does  not  lead  us 
to  assume  an  original  egoism  or  self-regard  out  of  wliich  altruism 
is  evolved  as  a  secondary  result.  Egoism  is  something  at  once 
too  deliberate  and  too  limited  to  be  primitive.  What  we  infer 
ahke  from  biological  principles  and  from  observed  facts  is  rather 
an  unreflective,  possibly  a  quite  unconscious,  impulse  growing 
by  heredity  into  a  determinate  instinct  producing  responses 
adapted  to  the  maintenance  of  the  stock  by  means  of  the 
maintenance  of  the  life  of  the  agent  and  its  young. 

In  the  lowest  stages  there  is  no  reason  to  think  that  instinctive 
actions  are  accompanied  by  any  sense  even  of  the  proximate 
end  which  they  are  adopted  to  secure.  Not  only  so,  but  there 
are  definite  reasons  for  thinking  the  contrary.  Such  blind 
action  we  call  generically  Impulse.  But  far  down  in  the  animal 
scale  we  found  cases  in  which  impulses  are  arrested  by  pain  or 
encouraged  by  pleasure.  These  introduced  us  to  a  new  feature 
in  the  conditions  affecting  behaviour.  The  act  of  the  individual 
is  now  no  longer  guided  by  the  inherited  structure,  but,  in  these 
cases,  by  the  effect  of  the  individual's  own  past  experience  as 
well.  Tlie  inherited  structure  is  affected  by  experience,  and  the 
reactions  which  it  will  give  are  re-modelled  accordingly,  with  the 
result  that  they  are  better  adapted  to  securing  an  immediate 
benefit  to  the  animal  in  the  shape  of  a  satisfaction  obtained 
or  a  pain  avoided. 

It  would  be  premature  to  call  this  modification  of  behaviour 
intelligent.  But,  still  within  the  animal  world  and  on  the  plane 
of  instinct,  we  get  a  higher  adaptation.  Wc  find  actions  which 
are  modified,  not  because  the}^  are  felt  as  pleasurable  or  painful, 
but  because  they  produce  pleasure  or  pain  in  the  sequel.  That 
is,  the  act  and  its  consequences  are  distinct  for  the  animal ;  and 


THE  LINE   OE  ETHICAL  DEVELOPMENT        615 

the  relation  between  them  seems  to  be  intelligently  rather  than 
mechanically  established  in  its  mind,  since  e.  g.  an  animal  which 
has  been  punished  for  some  darhng  sin  will  restrain  himself 
under  circumstances  which  might  lead  to  detection,  and  enjoy 
himself  when  he  feels  secure.  Here,  as  we  find  that  action  is 
successfully  varied  according  as  it  does  or  does  not  produce  a 
given  effect,  we  may  say  that  the  relation  of  the  act  to  the 
effect,  that  is  the  purpose,  is  the  determining  factor.  Impulse 
so  modified  becomes  Desire  and  Aversion.  On  the  other  hand, 
though  Ave  should  say  that  it  is  desire  for  things  that  are 
pleasant  {to.  rjSea)  rather  than  for  pleasure  (rjSovy),  it  is  still 
pleasure  (and  pain)  that  are  the  moderators  of  desire. 

But  the  same  intelhgence  which  transforms  impulse  into 
desire  renders  possible  the  concrete  apprehension  of  other 
individuals.  To  the  higher  animal,  its  master,  its  young,  its 
friends,  and  its  enemies  are  known  apparently  with  some 
measure  of  individual  recognition,  and,  moreover,  their  be- 
haviour, what  they  do,  what  they  express,  and  what  is  done  to 
them,  are  often  matters  of  lively  concern.  Hence,  though  we 
can  no  more  see  inside  a  dog's  mind  than  inside  that  of  another 
human  creature,  we  attribute  sympathy  to  the  one  as  to  the 
other,  and  if  we  allow  the  dog  intelligent  purpose  in  securing 
his  own  pleasure  and  avoiding  his  own  pain,  we  must  by  the 
same  reasoning  treat  as  purposeful  what  he  does  for  another 
creature,  human  or  animal.  So  we  may  attribute,  not  merely 
the  gregarious  instinct,  but  also  the  rudiments  of  a  social  inter- 
course to  the  higher  animals,  and  hold  tha.t  their  actions  are 
adapted,  not  only  by  instinct,  but  also  in  some  measure  by 
conscious  intelligence  to  the  protection,  rehef,  or  satisfaction 
of  those  for  whom  they  feel  affection.  Thus  we  now  find  a 
considerable  enlargement  of  the  sphere  of  intelligence.  We  fuid 
it  aiding  in  the  adaptation  of  actions  not  only  to  the  immediate, 
but  to  the  somewhat  more  remote  satisfaction  of  the  agent,  and 
also  to  the  satisfaction  of  others  whom  the  agent  loves.  But 
in  all  this  it  must  be  remembered  that  the  inherited  psycho- 
physical structure  is  the  underlying  condition.  It  is  that  which 
makes  experience  pleasant  or  painful,  and  it  is  this,  for  the  most 
part,  which  renders  possible  and  also  limits  the  circle  of  affection.^ 
The  main  lines  of  behaviour,  social  as  well  as  self -regarding,  are 

^  I  mesn,  c.  g.  that  though  a  mother  cat  may  tend  a  kitten  inteIHgently 
at  times,  yet  the  basis  of  mother  love  is  instinctive.  At  this  stage  "  natural 
selection  "  would  even  combat  a  wider  love,  since  it  would  interfere  with 
the  predominance  of  any  given  stock  which  indulged  it.  So  the  conditions 
of  race  maintenance  appear  both  as  positive  and  negative  determinants  of 
social  feeling. 


616  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

laid  down  by  inherited  structure  in  accordance  with  the  con- 
ditions of  race  maintenance.  Only  variations  within  these  lines 
are  left  to  the  play  of  intelligence.  Nevertheless,  this  play 
increases  the  adaptability  of  the  individual,  enlarges  the  part 
wliich  it  plays  in  the  world,  and  enables  it  to  maintain  the 
stock  with  a  smaller  number  of  descendants  and  with  less  waste 
of  Hfe. 

2.  While  animal  purposes,  in  the  strict  sense  of  the  term, 
appear  to  be  limited  to  the  concrete  results  of  each  particular 
action,  and,  so  far  as  directed  to  the  good  of  another,  to  be 
swayed  wholly  by  feeling,  in  man  we  saw  that  the  rise  of 
general  conceptions — a  process  which  may  be  regarded  as  at 
once  the  effect  and  the  cause  of  the  growth  of  language — en- 
larges the  scope  of  purpose  and  renders  possible  the  laying 
dowTti  of  fixed  rules  by  which  action  is  judged  and  the  handing 
on  of  thes*  rules  by  tradition.  Forming  a  concept  of  himself  as 
a  permanent  being  with  varied  interests,  of  liis  wife  or  children, 
his  social  group,  etc.,  in  the  same  manner,  man  re-acts  to  these 
larger  interests  just  as  the  animal  does  to  the  immediate 
stimulus  of  desire.  This  re-action  to  larger  purpose  we  have 
called  Will ;  distinguishing  it  from  Desire,  because  in  it  the 
whole  personahty  tends  to  be  involved  rather  than  a  single 
sense  or  a  single  emotion,  and  because  its  object  is  not  that 
which  gives  pleasure,  but  those  larger  vital  issues  in  which 
the  more  stable  conditions  of  happiness  are  found.  But  the 
Avill  does  not  set  to  work  to  construct  its  ends  in  a  kind  of 
vacuum  of  the  pure  reason.  It  finds  itself  guided  and  limited 
from  the  first  by  rules  containing  the  traditions  of  society,  and 
forming  a  standard  by  which  the  conduct  of  each  man  will  be 
judged.  These  rules  embody  a  tradition,  the  origin  of  which  is 
for  primitive  man  himself  lost  in  myths.  We  do  not,  and 
probably  never  shall  know  in  detail  the  actual  stages  by  which 
the  earliest  customs  originated.  On  the  other  hand,  we  do 
know  something  of  the  conditions  by  which  custom  in  general 
is  maintained  and  of  the  forces  by  which  it  is  modified.  We 
knoAv,  for  instance,  how  customs  change  and  grow  and  disappear 
unconsciously  as  an  individual  stretches  a  point  here  or  makes 
a  new  apphcation  of  a  precedent  there.  We  can  see  how  the 
interaction  of  multitudinous  forces  transmutes  custom  and 
produces  a  new  tradition  before  any  one  has  been  aware  of  the 
change,  and  we  have  no  difficult}^  in  conceiving  the  original 
growth  of  custom  out  of  the  inherited  impulses  of  grognrious 
man  as  proceeding  along  the  same  general  lines.     It  needs  but 


THE  LINE   OF  ETHICAL  DEVELOPMENT        617 

that  these  impulses  should  be  formulated  and  generalized,  and 
there  is  already  custom  in  germ,  and  the  growth  of  custom  will 
be  of  the  highest  value  to  nascent  society  as  enabling  men  to 
understand  each  other,  i.  e.  to  know  what  in  given  circum- 
stances each  may  expect  from  the  other.  The -lines  on  which 
custom  is  formed  will,  however,  be  determined  in  each  society 
by  no  reasoned  principle,  but  by  the  pressures,  the  thousand 
interactions  of  those  forces  of  individual  character  and  social 
relationsliip  which  never  cease  re-moulding  what  they  have 
made — men's  loves  and  hates,  their  hopes  and  fears  for  them- 
selves and  for  their  children,  their  dread  of  unseen  agencies, 
their  jealousies,  their  resentments,  their  antipathies,  their 
sociability  and  dim  sense  of  mutual  dependence  —  all  their 
qualities,  good  and  bad,  selfish  and  sympathetic,  social  and  anti- 
social. We  were  able,  however,  on  general  grounds  to  lay  down 
two  limits  within  which  from  the  first  custom  must  move. 
First,  it  must  bear  some  relation  to  the  character  of  primitive 
man.  That  is  to  say,  although  custom  doubtless  imposes  upon 
him  many  restraints,  nevertheless  those  restraints  in  the  main 
fall  into  line  A^th  his  owii  fears,  reluctances,  sympathies,  and 
antipathies,  and  do  not  deviat-e  from  them  to  the  snapping- point. 
For  if  this  point  is  frequently  reached,  not  merely  in  exceptional 
individuals,  but  in  the  average  member  of  the  tribe,  there  must 
either  be  a  change  of  custom  or  anarchy.  This  limitation  will 
cut  both  ways,  will  equally  prevent  the  level  of  social  tradition 
from  rising  above  or  from  falling  below  the  level  which  in  this 
rough  manner  corresponds  to  primitive  character.  The  rule 
of  conduct  must  in  eifect  be  so  far  adapted  to  the  nature  of 
primitive  man  as  to  embody  much  of  what  is  bad  in  him  along 
with  much  of  what  is  good — his  limited  sociability,  his  hatred 
and  dread  of  strangers,  his  craven  fear  of  the  unknown.  Evil 
and  anti -social  impulses,  in  fact,  contribute  to  the  first  formation 
of  the  moral  consciousness,  along  with  affections  and  sympathies 
and  the  dimly  felt  need  of  co-operation. 

In  the  second  place,  the  body  of  custom  must  upon  the  whole 
be  suited  to  the  conditions  which  make  for  the  maintenance  of 
society,  since  otherwise  the  society  would  not  be  found  in  being 
for  any  length  of  time.  But  once  again,  the  beneficent  efficacy 
of  these  conditions  must  not  be  exaggerated.  In  the  first  place, 
particular  customs  may  be  injurious  provided  they  are  not 
fatal.  They  may  be  the  consequences  of  some  idea  which  upon 
the  whole  makes  for  good  order.  Thus  the  taboo  may  be  useful 
for  the  preservation  of  property.  It  may,  however,  have  many 
useless  or  harmful  applications.    Further,  when  we  speak  of 


618  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

customs  suited  to  the  maintenance  of  society,  we  really  mean 
the  maintenance  of  a  given  social  type.  A  custom  which  is 
quite  necessary  at  one  stage  may  block  the  advance  to  a  higher 
stage,  and  if  conditions  are  arising  which  make  that  advance 
possible,  society  will  gain  by  its  removal.  The  fact  that  custom 
rests  on  the  requirements  of  social  life  does  not  render  it  inviolable 
in  cases  where  those  requirements  have  altered.  However, 
when  all  these  limitations  are  allowed  for,  it  remains  that  without 
any  reasoned  conception  of  social  welfare  the  broad  conditions 
of  stock  preservation  indirectly  determine  the  main  lines  of 
conduct  just  as  they  do  in  the  animal  world,  only  those  con- 
ditions no  longer  operate  merely  by  fashioning  the  physical 
structure  of  the  organism.  They  operate  also  through  social 
tradition,  and  thereby  once  again  are  rendered  more  elastic, 
and  are  able  to  shape  action  over  a  wider  sphere.  The  starting- 
point,  then,  for  the  development  of  human  ethics  is  custom 
arising  and  maintaining  itself,  not  through  any  reflective  thought 
as  to  what  is  best,  but  by  the  play  of  human  impulses  within 
the  limits  of  a  life  lived  in  social  groups, 

3.  From  primitive  custom  as  our  starting-point,  we  can  con- 
ceive etliical  development  as  proceeding  along  three  different 
lines.  We  may  conceive  it  as  an  evolution  in  ethical  concep- 
tions, in  the  character  of  human  beings,  or  in  the  established 
relations  of  society.  To  consider  first  the  movement  of  ethical 
conceptions,  we  have  found  it  closely  bound  up  with  the  develop- 
ment of  thought  in  general,  of  ideas  as  to  the  nature  and  origin 
of  things  and  the  destinies  of  man.  Now  the  evolution  of 
thought,  stated  in  general  terms,  consists  on  the  one  hand  in 
growing  precision  or  accuracj^  of  analysis,  on  the  other  hand 
in  the  ever  extending  reach  or  grasp  of  experience,  the  result 
being  a  more  and  more  articulate  understanding  of  an  ever 
larger  segment  of  reality.  In  tliis  development  we  may  dis- 
tinguish certain  phases,  though  we  should  regard  them  rather 
as  milestones  that  mark  the  advance  in  a  single  journey  than 
as  gaps  parting  distinct  stages  from  one  another.  Bearing 
this  caution  in  mind,  we  may  briefly  recapitulaio  what  the 
previous  chapters  have  shown.  In  the  lowest  stages  of  human 
thought,  then,  we  have  seen  reason  to  think  that  the  difficulty 
of  forming  any  conceptions  at  all  is  such  that  the  familiar 
categories  of  common  experience  are  not  fully  distinguished. 
Attributes  and  relations  become  substances,  while  distinct 
individuals  melt  away  into  one  another  and  preserve  no  clear- 
cut  identity.     There  is  no  sound   basis  of  generalization,   no 


THE   LINE   OF  ETHICAL  DEVELOPMENT        619 

methodical  interconnection  of  ideas,  and  no  adequate  distinction 
between  the  imaginary  and  the  real,  or  bet^veen  make-beheve 
and  earnest.  Inferences  are  formed  by  unconscious  assimilation, 
by  fusion  or  confusion  of  ideas,  and  by  the  influence  of  emotional 
prepossessions.  Distinctions  that  are  most  elementary  in  the 
structure  of  knowledge  are  quite  insufficiently  grasped,  and  the 
result  is  seen  in  magic,  witchcraft,  and  the  primitive  doctrine 
of  the  quasi-material  spirit.  It  is  a  great  step  forward  when 
the  world  of  ideas  begins  to  be  purged  of  these  confusions,  and 
thought  no  longer  blurs  and  obhterates  the  primary  lines  of 
distinction,  the  common  categories  into  which  experience  falls. 
Persons  now  are  persons,  functions  are  functions,  relations 
are  relations.  Concrete  experience  is  reflected  with  sufficient 
distinctness  in  mental  pictures  or  images,  and  the  thought- 
world,  instead  of  being  a  distorted  and  confused  rendering  of 
the  world  of  sense,  is  rather  its  counterpart  and  duplicate. 
The  gods  at  this  stage  form  a  second  human  community  in 
another  sphere.  Pure  fancy,  or  fancy  guided  by  crude  ideas 
of  physical  causation,  plays  freely  round  them  and  gives  them  a 
li\nng  personality,  often  a  really  concrete  character,  with  family, 
social  and  pohtical  relationships,  loves,  hates,  joys  and  sorrows, 
and  complete  life  histories.  Progress  from  the  inarticulate  to 
the  concrete  idea  is  thus  reflected  in  the  transition  from  spirits 
(and  occult  forces)  to  gods. 

Now  the  gods  are  already  not  only  human,  but  in  varying 
degrees  superhuman.  They  preside  over  great  departments  of 
nature  or  of  human  life,  thus  embodying  a  wider  and  more  dis- 
criminating colligation  of  experience.  But,  further,  they  often 
show  traces  of  idealization,  and  in  tliis  we  get  a  hint  that  the 
world  of  ideas  is  destined  to  be  something  more  than  a  mere 
re-duplication  of  sense  experience.  This  brings  us  to  the  next 
step  in  advance,  wherein  image-making  develops  into  thinking. 
The  "  picture  "  ideas,  loosely  defined  and  uncritically  connected, 
are  transformed  into  definite  or  "abstract"  conceptions;  the 
"  general  "  notion  vaguely  applied  into  the  universal,  wliich, 
wherever  used,  has  one  constant  meaning.  Such  concepts,  of 
which  those  of  number  and  quantity,  and  of  Spatial  and  Temporal 
order,  are  probably  the  first  to  arise,  are  connected,  developed 
and  tested  by  systematic  methods  of  analj^sis  and  synthesis — 
the  concept  once  rendered  exact  being  capable  of  methodical 
comparison  with  other  concepts. 

But  beside  the  minor  '''  departmental  "  conceptions  wliich  give 
rise  to  special  sciences  or  to  methodical  arts,  the  fundamental 
all-embracing  categories  of  experience  also  enter  at  length  into 


620  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

clear  consciousness.  The  mind  had  learnt  in  its  image-making 
to  represent  Persons  and  Attributes,  Relations  and  Functions, 
and  to  keep  them  distinct.  It  now  learns  to  recognize  what  it 
is  that  distinguishes  them,  and  so  to  form  conceptions  of  Person- 
ality, Attribute,  Relation,  Function.  In  so  doing,  it  has  grasped 
and  set  before  itself  as  distinct  objects  of  thought  the  structural 
principles  of  its  world.  It  is  now  in  a  position  to  attempt 
a  theory  of  reality  as  a  whole,  to  deal  with  the  problems  of 
permanence  and  change,  of  reality  and  appearance,  of  the  finite 
and  the  infinite,  and  all  the  other  antinomies  which  present 
themselves  as  soon  as  a  serious  effort  is  made  to  conceive  a 
totality  of  things.  Its  theory  of  the  world-process,  its  God, 
if  it  finds  the  solution  in  a  God,  is  an  embodiment,  so  to  say, 
of  tlie  categories  which  it  finds  most  satisfactory,  God  is 
infinite,  absolute,  unconditioned,  the  First  Cause,  perhaps  the 
true  substantial  reahty  of  things.  He  is  also — since  a  founda- 
tion is  required  for  practice  as  well  as  for  theory — an  incarnation 
of  the  moral  ideal. 

Here,  then,  we  have  reached  the  level  of  the  philosophical,  or, 
as  we  have  called  them,  the  spiritual  religions,  systems  which 
Beek  to  concentrate  all  experience  in  one  focus  and  to  illuminate 
all  reality  from  one  centre, — thought,  as  ever,  becoming  more 
comprehensive  as  it  becomes  more  explicit.  But  such  syntheses, 
however  formed,  contain  in  themselves  the  germ  of  contra- 
dictions,^ the  cause  of  Avhich  is  not  fully  understood  till  thought 
has  taken  a  fresh  turn  in  which  the  genesis  and  function  of 
conception  in  general  is  made  the  subject  of  inquiry.  This,  in 
its  simplest  form,  is  a  return  from  the  ideal  to  the  actual,  and 
as  such  is  carried  out  in  miniature  in  every  special  science. 
But   the   criticism   of   method   has   a   deeper   implication.     It 

^  Speaking  generally,  these  arise,  as  appears  further  on,  from  the  mental 
attitude  which  takes  the  categories  as  vehicles  of  viltimate  truth,  rather  th.m 
as  modes  of  rendering  experience  and  interconnecting  experiences.  The 
more  the  "  metaphysical  stage  "  develops,  i.  e.  the  more  the  mind  disen- 
gages itself  from  imagery,  and  insists  on  exactitvide  of  conception  and 
reasoning,  the  more  clearly  the  inlierent  difficulties  of  this  point  of  view 
emerge.  The  contrast  between  the  hard  insufficiency,  the  narrow  finiteness 
of  the  categories  and  the  subtle  plasticity,  the  boundlessness,  the  variability 
of  experience  becomes  almost  disruptive  of  thought.  At  times  it  forces  the 
mind  by  a  confusion  of  planes  to  find  reality  in  the  categories  themselves, 
and  not  in  metaphysics  alone,  but  in  many  departments  of  ethics,  politics 
and  law,  the  lines  of  distinction  and  definition  which  conceptual  tlinught 
draws  become  stones  of  stvimbhng  when  gradations  of  meaning  and  the 
actual  continuity  of  nature  are  to  be  dealt  with.  The  world  of  thought 
tends  to  fall  apart  from  the  world  of  experience.  But  tboxight  is  meaning- 
less unless  it  illuminates  experience.  This,  as  already  indicated  in  principle 
hj  Aristotle,  is  the  starting-point  of  criticism,  alike  of  the  special  criticism 
of  a  particular  science  and  of  the  general  criticism  c|f  philosophical  analysis. 


THE  LINE   OF  ETHICAL  DEVELOPMENT        G21 

involves,  when  pushed  through,  an  inquiry  into  the  ultimate 
basis  of  knowledge,  and  the  paradox  of  the  inquiry  is  that  since 
to  inquire  and  examine  is  still  to  think,  the  very  processes  that 
are  being  examined  have  to  be  used  in  examining  them.  Nor 
can  we  who  criticize  place  ourselves  outside  that  which  we  are 
criticizing.  The  human  mind  is  a  structure  which  has  grown 
up  under  conditions,  and  the  thoughts  which  it  forms  and  the 
criticisms  which  it  passes  on  its  thoughts  depend  upon  that 
structure.  Not  only  the  thoughts,  but  the  experience  which 
they  are  to  interpret  is,  again,  conditioned  by  the  structure  of 
the  sense  organs.  We  are  therefore  compelled  to  regard  the 
highest  conceptions  which  the  mind  can  reach  as  conditioned 
by  the  nature  and  limits  of  the  mind  itself,  and  to  recognize 
that  even  though  we  could  frame  a  theory  which  might  com- 
mend itself  to  us  as  an  adequate  interpretation  of  our  experience, 
it  does  not  necessarily  follow  that  it  would,  express  the  final 
truth  about  reality.  But  further,  when  our  conceptions  are 
analyzed  to  the  bottom  they  are  found  not  to  give  an  adequate 
interpretation  of  experience  as  a  whole.  On  the  contrary,  it  is 
when  we  endeavour  to  grasp  our  world  as  a  totality  that  we  fall 
into  contradictions.  Criticism,  therefore,  compels  us  to  realize 
the  limitations  of  our  own  thought,  and  to  desist  from  the 
endeavour  to  force  the  universe  into  the  narrow  moulds  which 
our  experience  has  so  far  enabled  us  to  frame,  when  what  is 
needed  is  rather  to  enlarge  our  conceptions  by  taking  in  fresh 
experience.  For  it  does  not  follow  that  because  we  find  Hmits, 
these  must  be  limits  fixed  for  ever.  On  the  contrary,  the  study 
of  evolution  indicates  the  possibility  of  indefinite  growth.  It 
helps  us  to  understand  how  our  mental  structure  has  arisen 
from  very  humble  beginnings,  and  how  its  methods,  its  logic 
and  its  philosophy  have  grown  up  in  the  continuous  endeavour 
to  grasp  and  organize  its  experience,  and  so  direct  and  under- 
stand its  own  life.  We  measure  a  sufficiently  great  advance 
from  the  first  dawn  of  consciousness  in  an  animal  wliicli  can 
just  learn  through  pain,  to  the  synthesis  of  the  sciences  and  the 
analysis  of  philosophy,  and  we  can  in  some  degree  judge  thereby 
of  the  possibilities  of  further  development.  We  can  understand 
that  what  is  readily  intelligible  to  the  highest  human  intelli- 
gence should  be  wholly  inconceivable  to  a  savage,  and  we  must 
learn  to  understand  that  our  oa\ti  thought  is  no  more  final 
than  that  of  the  savage,  but  at  best  represents  mental  growth 
advanced  by  one  stage. 

It  does  not  follow  that  we  are  landed  in  mere  scepticism. 
The  thought  which  gives  harmonious,  coherent  interpretation 


622  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

to  experience  is  true  so  far  as  it  goes.  It  is  only  as  a  final 
interpretation  of  Reality  that  it  is  never  the  whole  truth.  Yet 
a  philosophy  which  does  not  yield  final  truth  may  have  its 
value  as  an  approximation.  Each  new  interpretation,  pro\aded 
it  is  honest  and  intelhgent,  carries  us  a  stage  forward.  The 
error  is  only  in  taking  the  completion  of  the  stage  for  the 
end  of  the  journey.  Truth,  even  ultimate  truth,  is  no  empty 
dream.  She  is  a  phantom  only  when  we  think  that  we  grasp 
her.  She  is  real  when,  recognizing  that  she  is  a  being  enthroned 
above  us,  we  are  content  to  touch  the  hem  of  her  robe. 

The  tendency  of  the  critical  movement  which  constitutes 
philosophy  is  therefore  to  trace  the  conceptions,  methods  and 
principles  of  thought  to  their  elementary  conditions  in  the 
nature  of  mind  and  its  relations  to  reality.  Starting  from  these 
conditions  it  re -models  the  whole  idea  of  knowledge  and  of  the 
nature  and  test  of  truth.  Reality  is  conceived  as  something 
more  than  experience,  and  the  truth  attainable  by  man  is  seen 
to  be  only  a  partial  approximation  to  the  final  truth  of  things. 
As  a  consequence  thought  is  recognized  as  a  growth,  and  its 
conceptions  as  the  products  of  a  given  phase,  having  their 
genesis  in  earher  phases,  and  the  test  and  measure  of  their 
validity  in  their  power  to  contribute  to  that  coherent,  systematic 
interpretation  of  reahty  towards  which  growth  aspires. 

Thus,  in  dragging  to  light  the  conditions  of  the  cognitive 
process  and  the  factors  at  work  in  the  building  up  of  thought, 
the  philosophic  movement  renders  the  mind  conscious  of  its  own 
nature  and  liistory.  Here  it  impinges  on  the  results  of  the 
physical  and  social  sciences  which  have  been  building  up  the 
conception  of  evolution,  and  the  effect,  according  to  the  view  of 
contemporary  thought  here  taken,  is  to  establish  the  conception 
of  mind  in  growth  as  the  central  fact  of  experience  and  the 
basis  from  which  we  must  start  in  the  further  interpretation, 
alike  of  knowledge  and  of  conduct. 

4.  Turning  from  the  movement  of  Thought  in  general  to 
the  special  sphere  of  Ethics,  we  have  now  to  summarize  the 
evolution  described  in  the  previous  chapters.  The  resulting 
picture  of  the  phases  of  Ethical  development  will  show  a  rough 
parallehsm  with  that  of  Thought  in  general.  This  could  hardly 
be  otherwise,  since  the  two  movements  are  in  constant  inter- 
action. At  the  same  time,  since  other  influences  afi^ect  ethics 
the  parallehsm  is  not  exact  and  must  not  be  exaggerated,  and 
this  caution  must  be  taken  as  qualifying  the  general  descriptions 
which  a  summary  statement  can  hardly  avoid.     We  have  to 


THE   LINE   OF  ETHICAL  DEVELOPMENT        623 

consider  the  evolution  of  the  ethical  idea,  as  it  were,  in  its 
depth  and  breadth ;  that  is  to  say,  in  the  degree  of  clearness 
and  intensity  with  which  its  distinctively  ethical  character  is 
reahzed,  and  in  the  extent  to  which  it  succeeds  in  directing 
conduct  and  organizing  life.  In  this  evolution  we  have  found 
several  phases.  Now  the  general  features  of  the  ethical  idea, 
according  to  our  analysis  in  the  last  chapter,  are  that  every 
man  as  a  responsible  agent  stands  under  certain  obligations, 
whether  to  himself,  to  others,  or  to  society  as  a  whole,  defined 
by  the  requirements  of  the  common  good ;  or,  in  other  words,  that 
men  are  deemed  good  or  bad  in  accordance  as  they  do  or  do  not 
recognize  certain  rights  and  duties  important  to  the  welfare  of 
society  as  a  whole.  Obligation  is  the  general  expression  for  the 
relations  in  which  men  accordingly  stand,  and  it  is  (a)  in  the  way 
in  which  obligation  is  conceived,  and  (b)  in  the  conduct  wliich 
it  covers,  that  ethical  evolution  is  principally  seen. 

Now  in  the  lowest  stage  of  customary  ethics  obligations  of  a 
social  character  are  undoubtedly  recognized  in  a  certain  sense, 
but  (1)  they  are  almost  entirely  limited  to  the  relations  of  men 
and  women  in  small  groups,  and  (2)  though  they  tend  to  secure 
certain  fundamental  rights,  yet  the  protection  that  they  give 
is  in  large  measure  indirect.  For  example,  human  life  is  pro- 
tected by  the  blood  feud,  but  the  custom  of  the  blood  feud  is 
not  based  upon  the  principle  that  human  life  is  itself  sacred,  but 
on  the  principle  that  I  must  avenge  a  wrong  done  to  a  member 
of  my  kindred.  Property  is  protected  by  the  law  of  restitution 
or,  witliin  limits,  of  blood  vengeance,  yet  when  we  look  into  the 
matter  more  closely  we  find  that  it  is  not  because  the  thief  ought 
to  be  punished,  but  rather  because  a  man  who  has  suffered  theft 
may  reasonably  demand  restitution  or  avenge  himself.  Similarly, 
the  marriage  tie  is  maintained  in  the  sense  that  any  husband 
may  reasonably  be  expected  to  kill  a  man  who  violates  it.  The 
idea  of  justice  is  not  separated  from  that  of  retahation.  Thus, 
the  elementary  rights  and  duties  on  which  social  life  is  founded 
can  hardly  as  yet  be  said  to  be  recognized  as  rights  or  duties,  that 
is  to  say  as  matter  of  direct  moral  obligation,  even  in  relation  to 
fellow-members  of  the  same  society.^     Nor  again,  is  character  as 

^  It  may  be  said  (1)  that,  after  all,  there  are  from  the  first  certain  laws 
directly  enforced  by  society,  (2)  that  within  the  innermost  group  the 
general  obligations  of  mutual  aid  and  mutual  forbearance  are  often,  if  not 
always,  true  "  categorical  imperatives."  Both  objections  are  valid  so  far 
as  they  go.  But  (as  shown  in  Part  I.  chap,  iii.)  they  only  cover  a  section 
of  the  sphere  of  conduct.  Many  fundamental  obligations  are  only  recog- 
nized in  the  indirect  sense  explained. 

It  may  be  urged  that  it  is  all  a  question  of  group-morality,  that  within 
the  innermost  group  obligation  is  directly  enforced,  and  that  the  tribe  or 


624  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

yet,  strictly  speaking,  the  subject  of  a  moral  judgment.  So  little 
is  this  the  case  that  primitive  justice  draws  a  very  insufRcient 
distinction  betvreen  the  intentional  and  the  unintentional  or 
between  the  agent  and  his  relatives,  and  even  personal  identity 
is  not  clearly  conceived  when  the  actions  of  a  man  may  freely  be 
attributed  to  a  spirit  which  possesses  him  temporarily. 

This  view  of  customary  morality  is  supported  by  what  we 
know  of  primitive  ideas  as  to  the  basis  of  custom,  for  in  the 
lowest  grades  of  ethical  thought  the  sanction  of  conduct  is  found 
in  taboos  and  otlier  magical  terrors  or  in  the  fear  of  vindictive 
and  resentful  spirits.  But  the  powers  of  magic  have  no  moral 
purpose,  and  the  spirits  of  animism  are  neither  essentially  moral 
nor  immoral.  In  general  they  are  guided,  like  men,  by  the  law 
of  retaliation.  But  the  mere  dread  of  vengeance  from  a  spirit 
lias  no  more  morality  in  it  than  the  corresponding  dread  of  a 
man.  On  the  whole,  then,  social  rules  in  this  stage,  though 
doubtless  supported  by  ethical  feeling,  are  not  yet  clearly 
conceived  as  moral  obhgations. 

A  step  onwards  is  taken  when  certain  rights  and  duties  are 
attached  to  members  of  a  society  as  such,  v/hen,  e.  g.  it  becomes 
a  duty  to  protect  life  instead  of  merely  aiding  the  avenger,  to 
guard  property  instead  of  only  countenancing  retaliation  upon 
the  thief,  to  redress  wrongs  and  yet  in  so  doing  to  entertain 
questions  of  responsibility.  This  stage  appears  distinctly  in  the 
earlier  civilizations,  though  remnants  of  cruder  barbarism,  of 
course,  survive.  The  essential  features  of  group-morality  are 
still  retained.  Obhgations  do  not  in  principle  exist  in  relation  to 
those  outside  the  group,  and  the  moral  consciousness  is  still 
drenched  through  with  the  old  spirit  of  self-assertion,  the  passions 
appropriate  to  the  struggle  for  existence  among  small  and  ill- 
organized  groups  of  mankind.  On  the  other  hand,  certain  social 
duties  are  now  matters  of  direct  obligation.  The  basis  of  this 
obligation  is  still  in  the  supernatural,  but  with  the  development 

community  is  merely  to  be  regarded  as  a  wider  group  not  yet  fully  brought 
within  the  area  of  obligation.  But  this  account  would  not  comprehend  all 
the  facts,  viz.  (1)  that  the  "  wider  group  "  here  spoken  of  is  normally  a  true 
society,  the  different  members  of  which  meet  and  mix  freely.  The  later 
group-moi'ality  leaves  out  the  stranger  or  the  slave,  but  this  earlier  rule  of 
custom  does  not  properly  include  the  associate  and  the  equal.  (2)  That 
the  "subjective  "  side  of  morality  as  shown  in  the  text  is  undeveloped. 
(3)  That  the  magico-animistic  basis  of  obligation  is  distinctly  non-moral. 
Bearing  in  mind  that  we  are  nowhere  in  contact  with  the  actually  primitive, 
we  may  put  it  that  the  moral  conceptions  found  in  the  simpler  societies 
are  such  as  we  should  expect  at  a  stage  in  which  morality  proper,  as  a 
system  of  impartial  and  unconditionally  binding  rules,  is  still  in  process 
of  formation. 


THE  LINE  OF  ETHICAL  DEVELOPMENT       625 

of  religious  ideas  it  tends  to  take  a  more  ethical  character.  The 
deities,  heroes  and  ancestors  of  the  anthropomorphic  rehgions, 
which  on  the  whole  are  dominant  in  the  higher  barbarism  and 
the  earher  civilizations,  are  morally  superior  in  the  main  to  the 
animistic  spirit,  and  would  be  still  more  so  but  for  the  persistence 
of  myths  dating  from  the  animistic  period.  They  are  generaiJy — 
though  with  some  terrible  exceptions  when  magical  ideas  per- 
sist— at  least  as  just  as  a  fairly  good  man,  they  are  opposed  to 
demons  and  to  witchcraft,  and  in  some  instances  they  have  an 
element  of  the  ideal.  Moreover,  some  gods  or  perhaps  some 
specially  developed  spirits  often  undertake  the  special  pro- 
tection of  the  moral  law  or  branches  thereof,  and  one  or  more 
of  them  are  often  Judges  of  the  dead.  Thus,  at  this  stage  it  is 
not  uncommon  to  find  that  there  are  some  gods  who  stand  in  aa 
essential  relation  to  etliics,  and,  though  the  fear  of  punishment 
is  not  a  high  motive,  yet  a  god  who  punishes  acts  because  they 
are  wrong  is  very  different  from  a  god  who  merely  avenges  an 
injury.  His  existence  is  a  recognition  of  the  moral  idea.  But 
the  spiritual  needs  imposed  by  the  conception  of  Judgment  are 
insufficiently  met  at  tliis  stage  by  sacrifice  or  magical  rites 
instead  of  repentance  and  forgiveness,  and  even  if  the  gods  prefer 
Justice  they  are  hardly  as  yet  incorruptible  judges.  Considering 
morality  as  a  whole  at  tliis  stage  we  may  say  that  certain  social 
duties  are  recognized  as  obhgations,  and  obligation  is  based  on 
human  and  divine  sanctions.  But  just  as  the  social  code  is  a 
confusion  of  "  love  and  hate,"  so  the  divine  world  is  a  blur  of  the 
just  and  the  unjust,  the  righteous  and  the  tyrannically  wicked. 
There  is  as  yet  no  thorouglily  worked-out  ethical  ideal,  human 
or  superhuman. 

It  is  the  emergence  of  such  an  ideal  which  gradually  transforms 
the  primitive  code  of  blended  love  and  hate.  In  close  connection 
with  the  spiritualized  ideal  of  religion,  an  ideal  of  character  is 
set  up  in  wliich  there  is  no  room  for  the  virtues  of  enmity; 
forgiveness  replaces  the  duty  of  revenge,  self-sacrifice  the  exac- 
tion of  one's  due ;  the  humihty  of  self -suppression  supplants 
the  pride  of  self-assertion,  missionary  effort  for  the  salvation 
of  all  mankind  the  narrower  and  more  material  ambitions  of 
self,  or  family  or  nation.  This  implies  a  profound  modification 
of  the  original  moral  consciousness  which,  arising  under  the 
influence  of  division  into  groups,  has  the  anti-social  or  dis- 
uniting blended  with  its  social  or  binding  tendencies.  The 
principal  change  that  moral  history  records  is  the  subjection  of 
this  side  of  morahty  to  the  purely  social  element  in  the  moral 
consciousness.  It  is  paralleled  by  a  no  less  revolutionary 
s  s 


626  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

change  in  religious  thought.  The  materiaUstic  deity  disappears. 
God  is  spiritual,  and  the  non-spiritual  elements  of  His  worship 
are  gradually  eliminated.  True,  the  judgment  of  the  dead  (or  as 
an  alternative  certain  automatic  consequences  of  good  and  bad 
actions)  hold  a  prominent  place  in  the  spiritual  rehgions,  but  for 
the  best  minds  the  notion  of  retribution  as  a  basis  for  morality 
is  already  transcended.  God  rules  by  love,  and  not  by  fear. 
On  the  other  hand,  in  so  far  as  the  omnipotence  of  the  Creator 
and  the  necessity  of  faith  in  Him  as  the  basis  of  all  goodness  are 
hard  pressed,  the  ethical  falls  into  the  second  place  and  may 
even  be  opposed  to  the  religious  view.  And  the  actual  content 
of  ethical  teaching  is  affected  by  the  position  which  it  holds. 
Though  the  social  qualities  are  emphasized,  their  social  func- 
tion is  often  misunderstood,  and  self-suppression  rather  than 
development  is  the  central  point  of  the  ethical  ideal.  And 
thus,  though  the  teaching  of  the  world  religions  laid  the  founda- 
tions of  humanitarianism,  it  has  often  tended,  paradoxically 
enough,  to  paralyze  humanitarian  energy,  and  by  holding  up  an 
unrealizable  ideal  to  remove  virtue  from  the  world  and  make  it 
possible  only  in  the  monastery. 

At  this  stage,  then,  moral  rules  have  references  to  a  distinct 
ideal  of  life  and  character.  This  ideal  still  rests  on  some  super- 
natural mode  of  being,  but  the  supernatural  is  itself  the  incar- 
nation and  expression  of  moral  perfection.  Idealism,  however, 
is  not  necessarily  critical,  and  a  further  step  is  taken,  according 
to  the  view  put  forward  in  the  previous  chapters,  when  the 
attempt  is  made  to  set  out  systematically  the  full  implications, 
personal  and  social,  of  the  moral  judgment. 

The  attempt  to  construct  or  reconstruct  the  ethical  order 
upon  the  basis  of  a  reasoned  theory  of  life  was  initiated  by  the 
plnlosophic  movement  of  antiquity,  which,  though  it  appealed 
less  strongly  to  feehng  and  missed  at  the  outset  some  grace 
and  tenderness  of  the  religious  ideal,  left  the  individual  person- 
ality standing,  and  made  the  development  of  its  faculties  rather 
than  their  repression  the  end  of  conduct,  recognizing  that 
individuality  has  its  claims,  that  even  original  self-assertion 
contained  a  kernel  of  truth,  and  that  what  humanity  claims  is 
self-devotion  rather  than  self-effacement.  But  in  proportion  as 
the  idea  of  personahty  becomes  the  centre  of  ethical  teaching, 
it  must  follow  that  rights  and  duties  are  regarded  as  belonging 
to  every  human  being  as  a  responsible  agent,  and  that  human 
character,  the  development  of  faculty  and  the  hving  happiness 
of  men  and  women,  become  the  ends  of  life.  A  direct  con- 
sequence of  this  view  is  that  the  duties  and  rights  formerly 


THE  LINE   OF  ETHICAL  DEVELOPMENT       627 

dependent  on  membership  of  a  group  are  now  universalized.  But 
with  this  universaHsm  all  of  primitive  custom  that  belongs  to 
the  law  of  enmity  drops  a^^'ay,  and  the  law  of  love  is  reached  by 
another  road  and  under  another  name.  Humanity  becomes  a 
single  community,  and  the  Law  of  Nature — an  ideal  by  which 
all  positive  law  should  be  judged — prescribes  our  duties  as 
members  thereof. 

But  we  are  still  only  in  the  first  phase  of  rationahsm.  The 
content  of  philosophic  teaching  required  the  inspiration  of 
rehgion  to  be  converted  into  a  living  universalism,  the  object 
of  a  missionary  effort  seeking  actively  and  aggressively  to 
spiritualize  in  the  world.  In  this  change  as  it  was  historically 
effected  the  rational  basis  was  undermined,  and  modern  rational- 
ism, instead  of  working  continuously  from  the  Greek  basis,  had 
to  compass  the  return  from  the  supernatural  to  nature.  In  so 
doing  it  (a)  gave  a  social  and  positive  interpretation  to  the 
doctrine  of  salvation,  and  thus  applied  the  aggressive  energy 
of  religion  to  the  spiritualization  of  actual  life,  while  (b)  it  re- 
placed the  conception  of  "nature  "  as  a  fixed  and  ideal  standard 
by  that  of  development — a  process  which  can  only  be  rightly 
appreciated  after  allowance  is  made  for  the  thinker's  position 
within  it.  Our  standards  are  the  product  of  a  spiritual  move- 
ment at  work  within  the  race,  and  are  subordinate  to  its  ultimate 
ends.  These  ends  we  can  appreciate  at  least  in  so  far  that 
they  include  the  fullest  and  most  harmonious  development 
of  the  life  of  the  race,  and  as  such  they  serve  as  stimulus  and 
guide  to  every  form  of  noble  effort. 

The  etliical  order  being  thus  interpreted,  the  claims  of  duty 
are  urged  on  the  ground  that  when  we  thoroughly  understand 
its  nature  and  all  its  bearings  on  our  own  hfe  and  that  of 
humanity,  we  are  compelled  as  rational  beings  to  recognize  its 
vahdity,  and  admit  that  the  ends  to  which  it  points  are  wider 
and  greater  than  any  private  good  of  our  own  that  may  confhct 
with  it.  Thus  for  rationalism  the  moral  basis  lies  in  the  un- 
folding of  the  full  meaning  of  the  moral  order,  as  that  through 
which  the  human  spirit  grows. 

To  summarize  the  whole  evolution  in  the  fewest  possible 
words,  it  would  appear  that  at  the  outset  customary  rules  have 
not  acquired  the  distinctive  character  of  moral  laws.  Next, 
moral  obhgations  are  recognized,  but  are  not  yet  founded  on 
any  general  ethical  principle.  Up  to  this  point  the  morality  of 
primitive  social  tradition  persists,  wherein  "  love  and  hate,"  the 
social  and  anti-social  impulses  are  blended.  In  a  third  stage, 
moral  principles  and  ideals  of  character  and  conduct  are  formed, 


628  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

partly  by  the  influence  of  religious  emotion,  partly  under  the 
guidance  of  philosophic  criticism,  and  these  culminate  in  the 
doctrine  of  an  evangelizing  mission  with  the  salvation  of  mankind 
as  its  aim.  But  this  salvation  is  conceived  in  supernatural 
terms,  and  reasoned  ethical  principle  is  subordinated  to  rehgious 
beUef.  Hence  a  further  critical  movement  is  required,  con- 
stituting a  fourth  main  stage  in  wliich  the  meaning  of  religious 
duty  is  interpreted  in  terms  of  human  experience,  and  it  is 
the  development  of  the  spiritual  principle  at  work  in  the  actual 
life  of  man  that  becomes  the  object  of  religion  and  supplies  the 
canon  of  ethics.  We  may  describe  the  whole  process  as  one 
in  which,  by  successive  steps,  the  full  meaning  of  the  ethical 
principle  becomes  clear.  Obligation,  resting  at  first  on  occult 
forces  or  the  resentment  of  vindictive  spirits,  and  then  on  the 
wrath  of  a  not  unjust  god,  comes  to  be  based  on  the  nobler 
desire  to  be  at  one  with  God,  or  to  realize  a  higher  spiritual 
life  and,  finally,  extrinsic  consequences  being  dispensed  with, 
on  the  inherent  goodness  of  the  life  which  it  renders  possible. 
The  social  bearings  of  morality  emerge  by  a  parallel  process. 
Duties  at  first  indirectly  guaranteed  become  directly  inculcated. 
Next,  they  are  so  extended  as  to  overleap  the  bounds  of  group- 
morality  and  destroy  the  claims  of  self-assertion.  Finally, 
the  reason  of  the  thing  is  rendered  clear  in  the  exposition  of  a 
spiritual  development  as  the  source  and  object  of  duties  and 
rights  alike.  By  successive  stages  obligation  becomes  first  a 
distinct  element  in  consciousness,  and  finally  a  principle,  tlie 
whole  meaning  of  which  is  gradually  thought  out. 

6.  With  the  deepening  consciousness  of  ethical  meanings  goes 
a  wider  and  more  coherent  sjnithesis  of  experience  and  purpose. 
Primitive  morality  (whether  in  the  first  or  second  stage)  builds 
up  bodies  of  custom,  introducing  a  measure  of  order  into  life. 
These  rules  are  in  an  indirect  manner  fashioned  by  racial  ex- 
perience, since  they  are  handed  on  by  tradition,  and  their  effect 
upon  the  social  welfare  can  seldom  be  without  an  influence  in 
determining  them.  To  this  extent  early  morality  may  be  said 
to  direct  conduct  towards  social  welfare  on  the  basis  of  past 
experience.  On  the  other  hand,  the  rules  of  conduct  are  not 
combined  into  a  whole  or  harmonized  by  subordination  to  any 
clearly  understood  principle,  whether  an  ideal  of  personal  con- 
duct or  of  social  organization.  On  the  contrary,  they  are  in 
large  measure  such  as  to  justify  social  disharmony. 

In  the  ethics  of  the  spiritual  religions  the  correlation  is  more 
complete.    There  is  an  ideal  of  character,  a  principle  of  right- 


THE  LINE   OF  ETHICAL  DEVELOPMENT        629 

livdng,  to  which  all  rules  of  conduct  are  subordinated.  And 
this,  being  a  rule  of  peace  and  love  with  all  the  world,  contains 
at  least  the  potentiality  of  a  complete  synthesis  of  human  pur- 
poses. On  the  other  hand,  there  is  little  disposition  to  take  the 
actual  experience  of  mankind  into  account,  and  in  effect  the 
tendency  is  to  idealize  one  side  of  virtue — self-negation — and 
leave  no  room  for  the  conception  of  self -development.  On 
the  social  side  also,  though  many  of  the  best  social  virtues  are 
exalted,  there  is  a  tendency  to  disregard  the  actual  working  of 
society  as  a  merely  mundane  affair.  Thus,  though  there  is  an 
express  and  dehberate  correlation  of  the  conceptions  of  good 
conduct,  it  is  of  a  kind  wliich  leaves  much  that  is  most  valuable 
outside  its  scope. 

The  philosophical  movement,  by  its  criticism  of  the  conceptions 
of  good  and  bad,  aims  at  a  fuller  correlation.  Greek  pliilosophy 
harmonized  self -development  with  the  common  good  of  the  city 
state,  but  had  behind  it  less  of  the  spiritual  experience  wliich 
builds  up  the  idea  of  self -negation  and  none  of  the  social  experi- 
ence which  could  give  life  to  the  conception  of  a  world  polity. 
Modern  thought,  bringing  ethics  into  relation  to  the  theory  of 
development,  conceives  a  synthesis  of  which  the  total  recorded 
experience  of  the  race — an  experience  always  operative,  though 
in  earlier  stages  less  consciously — should  be  the  basis,  and  the 
further  development  of  mind  in  society  the  end — a  correlation 
of  past  and  future  racial  experience. 

It  helps  us  to  understand  the  character  of  ethical,  as  of  all 
mental  evolution,  when  we  observe  that  at  each  stage  the  mind 
as  it  expands  brings  within  its  scope  the  conditions  and  in- 
fluences wliich  have  previously  acted  upon  it  unawares,  but  that 
in  so  doing  it  rationaHzes  and  therefore  modifies  them.  Thus 
the  custom  of  the  blood  feud  is  enforced  because  it  is  custom,  or 
nominally  because  it  so  pleases  the  gods.  But  the  real  value  of 
it  is  that  it  tends  to  secure  life.  This  is  the  latent  or  unconscious 
factor  which  fosters  the  institution  in  early  society  as  making 
on  the  whole  for  order.  In  the  next  stage  tliis  factor  enters  into 
consciousness,  and  protection  to  person  becomes  a  right  and  to 
recognize  it  a  duty  or  a  virtue.  But  words  such  as  "right," 
or  "  virtue,"  carry  weight  only  because  men  make  moral 
judgments,  approve  certain  types  of  character,  etc.,  and  the 
imphcation  is  that  a  certain  type  of  character,  or  of  social  or 
religious  Ufe,  is  the  guide  and  norm  of  conduct.  Accordingly 
the  next  step  is  that  this  ideal  enters  consciousness  and  is  set 
before  man  as  his  end.  But,  lastly,  the  influences  which  deter- 
mine liim  in  his  preference  of  one  character  over  another  are  a 


630  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

complex  mass  of  traditions,  instinct's,  partial  reasonings.  What 
is  coherent  in  these  appears  to  be  what  makes  for  the  growth  of 
mind  in  man,  and  the  final  step  is  to  bring  this  aim  into  con- 
sciousness as  a  rational  principle  and  the  base  of  what  went  before. 
In  looking  backward  over  the  process  which  has  led  us  to  this 
point  we  realize  that  the  same  factors,  though  not  in  the  same 
rational  form,  have  been  present  all  along.  The  conditions  of 
maintaining  a  social  life  operate  in  the  very  formation  of  social 
instinct  and  tradition.  Custom,  that  is  to  say,  is  fixed  by  certain 
psychological  forces  and  inter-relations  of  man  and  man,  which 
arise,  and  are  maintained,  and  grow,  because  the  society  which 
they  engender  can  support  itself  in  its  environment.  These 
forces  all  along  underlie  the  work  of  consciousness,  until  bit  by 
bit  consciousness  encroaches  on  them  and  takes  them  into  itself. 
In  so  doing  it  transmutes  them  \^dth  sometliing  from  its  own 
quality.  It  makes  them  rational  ends,  and  as  such  into  forces 
that  make  not  merely  for  life,  but  for  a  good  hfe,  and  a  hfe  of 
growth  and  development. 

Though  the  phases  of  development  here  distinguished  pass 
into  one  another  by  such  gentle  transitions  that  the  very  at- 
tempt made  to  distinguish  them  may  appear  artificial,  the  total 
change  which  they  constitute  is  of  no  small  importance.  Taken 
as  a  whole  it  forms  a  distinct  stage  onward  in  the  evolution  of 
mind,  not  unfairly  comparable  to  that  wliich  parts  the  mind  of 
the  lowest  savage  from  that  of  the  beast  which  he  chases  and 
adores.  Just  as  mental  evolution  enters  on  a  new  phase — a 
change  of  kind  so  far  as  the  phases  of  a  continuous  process  are 
ever  changes  of  kind  —  when  the  nascent  human  intelligence 
formulates  for  itself  in  general  ideas  experiences  which  were 
already  operating  to  direct  its  inferences,  though  before  it  knew 
them  not  nor  named  them,  so  a  gradual  but  not  less  fundamental 
revolution  is  effected  as  the  "  eye  of  the  soul  is  turned  "  upon 
the  methods  by  which  these  generalizations  are  built  up — that  is 
to  say,  from  the  objects  of  thought  to  the  processes  by  which  they 
are  formed,  the  conditions  on  which  they  rest — in  a  word,  to  the 
mind  itself,  its  nature  and  potentialities .^  At  the  beginning  of 
this  revolution  the  thought  world  is  occupied  by  the  fragmentary 
and  confused  ideas  of  the  primitive  mind,  moulded  Avithout 

^  For  we  are  dealing  here  with  an  order  of  reality ^ — the  ultimate  con- 
ditions of  knowing  and  being — which  underlies  the  simple  general  truths 
of  common  sense  just  as  these  undei'lie  the  concrete  and  practical  relations 
recognized  by  the  animal  mind,  and  to  do  so  implies  a  new  turn  to  mental 
activity — the  bringing  into  consciousness  of  methods  and  processes — which 
is  quite  as  profound  a  change  as  that  involved  in  the  first  attempt  to  di'aw 
out  the  "universal"  that  lies  in  the  particular. 


THE  LINE   OF  ETHICAL  DEVELOPMENT        631 

criticism  in  accordance  with  mental  predispositions  out  of  the 
mass  of  unsifted  experience  and  tradition.  At  its  end,  as  the 
result  of  a  movement  which  extends  from  the  first  attempt  to 
observe  a  fact  or  define  an  idea  to  the  profoundest  analysis  of 
the  conditions  of  the  cognitive  process,  is  the  sj^nthesis  of  racial 
experience  in  wliich  the  mind  grasps  the  conditions  and  possibili- 
ties of  its  own  development,  conscious  for  the  first  time  in  the 
full  sense  of  its  own  nature  and  growth.  This  movement  has 
its  close  parallel  in  etliics.  At  the  beginning  is  custom,  with  its 
blend  of  the  ethical  and  unethical,  accepted  without  criticism 
and  guiding  life  without  system  or  general  plan.  At  the  end 
is  the  rational  order  of  conduct  founded  on  the  conditions  of 
human  development,  and  directed  to  the  furtherance  of  that  de- 
velopment as  its  supreme  end.  If,  finally,  we  put  together  the 
results  of  the  intellectual  movement  which  reveal  the  conditions 
of  development  and  of  the  ethical  which  make  its  furtherance 
the  purpose  of  life,  we  recognize  that  the  evolution  of  mind  in 
man,  from  being  a  blind,  unconscious,  fitful  process  has  become 
a  purposive,  self-directed  movement.  This  is  the  fundamental 
change  effected  in  the  course  of  human  history. 

6.  So  far  we  have  traced  ethical  evolution  as  an  evolution  of 
thought.  But  in  questions  of  morals  it  is  easy,  fatally  easy,  for 
thought  to  outstrip  action.  How  far,  then,  does  this  develop- 
ment of  conceptions  correspond  either  to  an  actual  improvement 
in  social  relations  or  in  the  character  of  human  beings  ?  The 
candid  student  cannot  but  feel  grave  doubts  on  this  question 
from  time  to  time  when  he  turns  from  the  disorders  and  tyrannies 
of  our  own  day  to  the  simple  and  harmonious  life  which  he  finds 
among  many  of  tlie  "lowest"  peoples.  May  it  not  be,  he  is 
forced  to  ask,  that  at  bottom  the  moral  factor  is,  so  to  say,  a 
permanent  quantum  not  susceptible  of  constant  increase  or 
diminution,  unaffected  in  essence  by  intellectual  progress,  but 
rather  liable  to  grave  lesions  by  social  changes  against  which  it 
recovers  itself  from  time  to  time,  so  exhibiting  the  misleading 
appearance  of  periods  of  moral  progress.  Thus  it  may  be  urged 
that  the  genuine  humanitarian  progress  of  the  Victorian  era  was 
but  a  desperately  needed  reaction  against  the  tremendous  social 
disorganization  of  the  Industrial  Revolution  and  the  Napoleonic 
wars,  and  now  that  it  has  made  things  tolerable  is  in  turn  re- 
laxing its  efforts  and  giving  place  to  the  creed  of  force  and  the 
self-centred  will.  As  against  this  view  it  may  be  maintained 
that  we  may  easily  overestimate  the  moral  value  of  harmony  in 
the  simpler  social  conditions.    Social  solidarity  is  one  thing  in 


632  MORALS  IN  EVOLUTION 

a  group  of  a  couple  of  dozen  men,  women  and  children,  and 
another  when  it  is  predicable  of  a  nation  of  forty  milhons.  Moral 
progress  consists  in  surmounting  difficulties  and  uniting  elements 
wliich  are  naturally  opposed.  Simple  societies  may  enjoy  a 
measure  of  practical  freedom  and  equality  which  is  lost  at  a 
higher  stage.  But  the  discipline,  the  organization,  the  output  of 
will-power  evinced  at  such  a  stage  are  equally  necessary  to  the 
permanent  progress  of  human  achievement.  The  intensive  life 
of  the  small  community  has  advantages  which  are  lost  in  the 
ordered  union  of  a  great  empire,  but  the  extension  of  the  area 
of  peace  is  a  step  which  advancing  civilization  must  take.  Social 
evolution  is  full  of  these  antitheses,  and  the  case  for  effectual 
moral  progress  is  that,  upon  the  whole,  it  makes  for  a  synthesis. 
It  goes  for  little  to  have  the  gentler  quahties  without  the  more 
assertive,  chastity  without  passion,  meekness  without  courage, 
liberty  ^'^'ithout  the  capacity  for  discipline,  equality  without 
the  opportunity  for  domination.  Repeatedly  one  limb  of  the 
antithesis  groM's  at  the  expense  of  the  other,  and  loss  or  gain 
may  be  recorded  as  suits  the  bias  of  the  observer.  On  the  whole, 
our  survey  goes  to  show  that  while  no  new  elements  arise,  while 
human  nature  is  fundamentally  the  same,  the  synthesis  effected 
in  the  actual  life  of  the  modern  state,  incomplete  as  it  is,  is  wider, 
fuller  and  richer  than  that  of  earlier  times.  The  ^vill  grows — 
understanding  by  the  will  the  organized  energy  of  social  endea- 
vour. It  is  at  once  more  masterful  and  more  disciplined,  wider 
in  purview,  firmer  in  grip,  and,  on  the  whole,  more  conscious  of 
its  true  purpose. 

In  Social  Evolution  as  a  whole  there  is,  in  fact,  a  correlation, 
however  rough  and  irregular  in  detail,  with  the  ethical  and 
religious  development  here  set  out.  Among  many  simpler 
societies  we  see  (1)  the  fundamental  institutions  of  the  family 
and  government  still  very  incomplete.  We  trace  (2)  the  growing 
consolidation  of  the  little  community  on  the  basis  of  kinship, 
then  (3)  the  extension  and  improved  organization  of  society  on 
the  principle  of  Authority  and  (4)  finally,  the  advance  towards  a 
harmony  between  liberty  and  authority  in  the  state.  In  the 
first  two  stages  we  have  the  morality  of  custom  gradually  passing 
into  that  of  impartial  law.  In  the  third  we  have  the  reign  of 
law  and  in  its  higher  phases  the  ethics  of  the  world-religions. 
The  fourth  is  associated  with  humanitarian  ideas.  At  the  same 
time  social  growth  does  not  always  go  with  ethical  progress. 
Social  changes  are  in  large  measure  unconscious,  uncontrolled 
by  any  intelligent  direction,  and  the  more  completely  so  the 
further  we   go   back  into   the    beginnings  of   history.     Hence 


THE  LINE  OF  ETHICAL  DEVELOPMENT       633 

they  do  not  run  precisely  parallel  with  the  growth  of  mind, 
but  at  times  impede,  at  other  times,  again,  forward  it.  But  as 
the  liigher  phases  are  reached  the  two  processes  fuse  into  one. 
For  the  state  rests  on  a  measure  of  Right  in  the  relations  of  men, 
and  is  so  constituted  as  to  be  modifiable  by  the  deliberate  act  of 
the  community.  In  the  method  in  which  changes  are  effected, 
indeed,  we  find  a  definite  evolution  from  the  unconscious  and 
unnoted  changes  of  custom,  through  the  dehberate  changes 
introduced  on  occasion  by  the  fiat  of  authority  to  the  organic 
legislation  of  the  modern  world  in  which  at  its  best  there  is  an 
effort  to  determine  social  progress  in  accordance  with  a  rational 
ideal.  When  this  stage  is  reached  social  and  ethical  evolution 
become  one.  This  union  becomes  realized  in  proportion  as  the 
mind  attains  that  control  over  its  own  growth  which  it  already 
possesses  over  the  processes  of  nature.  Here,  as  Comte  first 
made  plain,  lies  the  true  significance  of  the  history  of  science. 
Through  science  mind  dominates  nature ;  first  physical  nature, 
then  organic  nature,  lastly  the  conditions — physical,  psychologi- 
cal, social — of  its  own  life  and  growth.  This  movement  goes  on 
at  an  ever  accelerating  rate,  and  as  it  proceeds  the  conditions  of 
a  rational  guidance  of  social  life  are  one  by  one  being  satisfied. 
At  the  basis  of  these  stands  the  mastery  of  external  natural 
conditions,  in  which  regard  the  last  hundred  and  fifty  years 
have  witnessed  a  complete  revolution,  and  so  far  there  is  every 
indication  that  the  changes  of  the  coming  century  will  be  not 
less,  but  even  more  sweeping.  Next  come  the  laws  of  life,  the 
conditions  of  health,  the  causes  of  disease,  the  factors  of  physi- 
cal evolution.  The  scientific  treatment  of  these  subjects  can 
scarcely  be  said  to  be  more  than  seventy  years  old,  and  it  may 
be  maintained  without  exaggeration  that,  little  as  we  know  even 
now,  the  sum  of  what  we  have  learnt  in  that  time  as  to  the  true 
causation  of  disease,  as  to  the  nature  of  heredity  and  the  modi- 
fiability  of  organisms,  far  outweighs  all  that  had  been  learnt 
in  the  previous  two  thousand  years.  There  follow  the  laws  of 
mental  growth,  and  here  our  own  time  has  witnessed  the  emer- 
ence  of  psychology  as  a  science,  and  education  as  a  true  art 
aiming  at  educing  from  the  mind  what  is  in  it,  aiding  natural 
development,  and  stimulating  or  correcting  it  at  need,  as  the 
physician  follows  the  efforts  of  the  body  towards  the  restoration 
of  the  balance  of  health — the  whole  a  conception  still  in  merest 
infancy,  but  already  promising  a  vigorous  life.  Here,  then, 
we  have  the  conditions  forming  for  development  of  bodj^  and 
mind  and  their  maintenance  in  health.  To  these  have  to  be 
added  the  scientific  adjustment  of  the  relations  of  man  to  man — 


634  MORALS  IN   EVOLUTION 

sociology.  Here,  again,  we  hav^e  a  science  in  its  infancy,  but 
the  mere  attempt  to  deal  with  public  questions  in  the  spirit  of 
science  imphes  an  advance  ethical  as  well  as  intellectual.  At 
any  rate  it  is  on  the  possibility  of  controlling  social  forces  by  the 
aid  of  social  science  as  perfectly  as  natural  forces  are  controlled 
at  present  by  the  aid  of  physical  science,  tha.t  the  permanent 
progress  of  humanity  must  depend. 

7.  For  progress  is  not  something  that  goes  on  of  itself  by  an 
automatic  law  or  an  inherent  tendency  of  things.  The  struggle 
for  existence  is  not  as  such  a  force  that  makes  for  betterment, 
and  in  fact  in  human  history  we  find  epochs  of  progress  followed 
by  long  ages  of  stagnation  or  retrogression.  If  the  evil  of  the 
world  overthrew  the  doctrine  of  unconditioned  creation,  the 
disorders  and  reactions  of  history  are  no  less  fatal  to  a  purely 
teleological  doctrine  of  the  world  process.  There  remains  the 
possibility,  however  difficult  to  conceive  in  concrete  shape,  of  a 
spirit  subject  to  conditions  and  achieving  its  full  growth  only 
by  mastering  them.  If  this  view  is  correct,  progress  is  made 
only  in  so  far  as  the  conditions  of  fife  come  more  and  more 
under  the  dominion  of  Mind,  There  is  nothing  in  the  scheme 
of  organic  evolution  to  determine  that  the  higher  tj^pe  should 
prevail  except  the  inherent  strength  of  the  type  itself.^  On  the 
other  side  of  the  account  let  us  bear  in  mind  that  there  is  no 
evidence  of  any  permanent  force  working  against  the  higher 
type  as  such,  or  singhng  it  out,  as  it  were,  for  destruction.  Evil 
is  not  a  positive  force.  There  is  no  real  Ahriman  that  strives 
with  Ormuzd,  Evil  is  merely  the  automatic  result  of  the  in- 
organic. Physical  evil  results  from  the  impact  on  the  spiritual 
order  of  natural  causes  which  intelligence  has  not  been  able  to 
subordinate  to  its  ends,  moral  evil  from  the  clashing  of  purpose 
in  minds  which  have  not  been  brought  into  an  organic  unity. 
Hence  the  working  of  that  retributive  principle  in  history  where- 
by whatever  is  evil,  being  inorganic,  conflicts  with  itself  and 
perishes  "  by  its  inherent  badness,"  while  the  elements  of  good- 
ness, of  rational  harmony,  in  the  long  run  support  and  further 
one  another,  and  this  upon  the  whole  at  an  accelerating  rate  in 
proportion  as  they  have  already  acquired  organic  union.  Here 
is  that  internal  inherent  strength  on  which  the  spiritual  order 
depends  for  its  ultimate  victory. 

1  In  so  far  as  it  bears  on  the  txltimate  question  of  the  element  of  purpose 
in  ReaUty  as  a  whole  (as  distinguished  from  the  scheme  of  organic  evolu- 
tion), this  statement  should  be  qualified  by  the  considerations  advanced  in 
Mind  in  Evolution,  pp.  402-406,  and  more  fully  in  Development  and 
Purpose,  Part  II. 


THE  LINE  OF  ETHICAL  DEVELOPMENT        635 

Thus  the  principal  method  of  spiritual  progress  lies  in  this — 
that  what  is  achieved  at  one  epoch  is  a  starting-point  for  fresh 
development.  Hence  progress  is  sure  and  continuous  in  pro- 
portion as  it  depends  on  the  principle  of  tradition,  i.  e.  in  pro- 
portion as  the  gains  of  the  past  can  be  handed  on  and  form  a 
caj^ital  for  advancing  the  operations  of  the  future.  This  method 
is  most  readily  applicable  in  the  case  of  positive  knowledge, 
wherein  it  is  possible  for  every  student  to  equip  himself  with 
all  that  Newton  or  Darwin  have  to  teach.  But  when  something 
more  than  mere  learning  is  required,  other  factors  enter  in. 
Even  in  the  realm  of  thought  so  far  as  the  deeper  principles  are 
concerned,  every  man  must  in  a  measure  go  through  for  himself 
the  processes  which  Hume  or  Kant  thought  out,  if  he  would 
really  understand  what  Hume  and  Kant  mean.  Still  more  is  this 
true  of  moral  thought.  We  must  have  some  spiritual  experience 
of  our  own  to  enable  us  to  realize  what  the  message  of  Christ  or 
of  Buddha  means.  There  must  at  least  be  an  inward  mirror  to 
reflect  the  spiritual  light.  Hence  ethical  truths  have  sometimes 
been  lost,  or  at  least  have  lain  dormant  till  new  prophets  have 
arisen  to  inspire  them  with  fresh  life.  Nevertheless  tradition, 
the  mere  contact  with  great  ideas,  counts  for  much  in  the  ethical 
field,  and  there  is,  on  the  whole,  a  clear  though  not  an  uninter- 
rupted advance  of  etliical  teaching .^  But  when  we  come  to  the 
development  of  character,  the  tliird  point  of  ethical  growth,  the 
case  is  altered.  So  far  as  ethical  teaching  affects  character,  tradi- 
tion has  its  influence.  But  so  far  as  the  foundation  of  character 
is  inherited   by  each  of  us  from  his  parents  wholly  different 

^  The  bearing  of  tradition  on  progress  may  be  measured  by  comparing 
knowledge,  morals  and  art.  Knowledge  —  the  whole  collective  achieve- 
ment of  thought — takes  the  lead  in  progress  because  each  generation  can 
acquire  the  whole  possessions  of  the  past  unimpaired  and  add  to  them  its 
own.  In  ethical  theory  this  is  less  easy  in  proportion  as  what  is  required 
is  the  deeper  thinking-out  of  principles  rather  than  the  addition  of  past 
experiences.  Nevertheless,  the  road  once  trodden  is  always  easier  to  tra- 
verse anew.  In  ethical  practice  we  have  not  only  to  learn,  but  to  come  to 
be,  and  this  in  large  measure  each  must  accomplish  for  himself,  yet  tra- 
dition still  operates  in  that  it  is  incorporated  in  law  and  custom  and  the 
spirit  of  a  people.  In  art  there  seems  to  be  epochs  of  progress  in  which 
some  new  vein  is  struck  out  by  pioneers.  This  is  worked  by  one  artist 
after  another,  each  learning  from  the  last,  till  the  best  that  can  be  done 
along  that  line  is  reached.  The  vein  is  then  exhavisted,  and  subsequent 
work  along  that  line  produces  less  and  less  ore  and  more  and  more  dross. 
Tradition  at  this  stage  becomes  a  real  barrier  to  progress.  Meanwhile 
other  pioneers  are  striking  out  in  a  fresh  direction,  and  art  revives  in  a  new 
place.  The  cause  of  this  brokenness  of  its  history  seems  to  be  that  the 
function  of  art  is  to  give  perfect  expression — that  is,  expression  in  which 
the  feeling-tone  of  the  sense-symbols  used  precisely  fits  the  thought  ex- 
pressed— to  whatever  facet  of  experience  the  artist  seeks  to  api^roach. 
When  this  is  once  done  adequately  it  cannot  be  done  again. 


636  MORALS  IN   EVOLUTION 

conditions  apply,  and  the  question  whether  the  innate  character- 
istics of  men  tend  to  improve,  stands  on  a  wholly  different  foot- 
ing from  the  question  whether  their  collective  achievements  in 
the  realm  of  thought  and  of  conduct  exhibit  growth  and  develop- 
ment. The  data  for  deciding  this  question  do  not  appear  as 
yet  to  be  sufficient.  The  laAVS  of  heredity  are  in  large  measure 
unknown.  So  far  as  natural  selection  is  concerned,  its  operation 
is  known  to  be  extremely  slow,  nor  could  it  be  favourable  to 
character  unless  the  conditions  of  life  in  society  were  through 
many  generations  such  as  to  eliminate  the  more  selfish,  less 
honest,  less  generous  type,  and  preserve  in  greater  degree  those 
who  are  more  worthy.  How  far  this  has  been  the  case  I  must 
not  here  attempt  to  determine.  We  can  easily  imagine  that 
some  virtues,  such  as  parental  love,  have  been  fostered  by  the 
better  chances  of  survival  enjoyed  by  the  children  of  loving 
parents.  Of  other  virtues  it  is  less  easy  to  speak  with  any 
certainty.  At  many  periods  social  institutions  have  directly 
tended  to  eliminate  the  stock  of  those  best  fitted  to  serve  society. 
I  think,  for  instance,  of  rehgious  persecutions,  or  again  of  the 
ideal  of  celibacy  which  over  great  tracts  of  the  world  operated 
for  centuries  to  deter  many  of  the  best  men  and  women  from 
perpetuating  their  stock.  Nor  is  the  question  whether,  morally 
considered,  the  human  breed  has  in  fact  improved,  by  any  means 
easy  to  settle  empirically.  Considering  the  improvement  of 
ethical  conceptions,  is  the  actual  improvement  in  our  conduct 
as  compared  with  that  of  our  ancestors  greater  than  we  might 
expect,  or  even  as  much  as  we  might  expect  ?  He  would  be  a 
bold  man  who  Avould  found  an  argument  for  the  improvement 
of  the  human  breed  by  heredity  on  a  dogmatic  affirmation  in 
reply  to  this  question.  Upon  the  whole  we  must  be  content  for 
the  present  to  leave  this  factor  in  evolution  an  uncertain  quantity. 
Ethical  progress  is  essentially  a  progress  in  ethical  conceptions, 
acting  through  tradition. 

These  conceptions,  as  they  advance,  are,  as  we  have  seen,  in  a 
manner  reahzed  in  law  and  custom.  Here  the  element  of  tra- 
dition plays  its  part.  But  in  so  far  as  the  old  vices  of  character 
remain,  the  work  is  always  liable  to  be  undone  and  needs  con- 
stantly to  be  done  over  again.  The  very  growth  of  society  sets 
up  new  problems  needing  a  re-thinking  of  old  ethical  ideas,  so 
that  here  again  the  ethical  advance  is  fitful  and  uncertain.  As 
society  becomes  larger  and  more  complex  many  of  its  obligations 
become  more  remote  and  impersonal.  Losing  their  direct 
application  to  our  neighbour  whom  we  see,  our  charity  and 
our  sense  of  justice  are  diluted  and  lose  their  strength.     Our 


THE  LINE  OF  ETHICAL  DEVELOPMENT       637 

sympathies  cease  where  our  imagination  fails  to  reach,  and  the 
great  fabric  of  government  is  apt  to  become  an  inhuman  machine 
advancing  bhndly  over  the  Living  flesh  and  blood  that  happens 
to  come  in  its  Avay,  Yet  the  vaster  the  social  organism  the 
greater  is  the  triumph  when  justice,  kindled  to  new  life,  has 
again  sent  a  purified  blood  through  its  arteries.  Its  successes 
are  achieved  for  larger  portions  of  mankind,  and  their  basis  is 
wider  and  more  secure. 

But  if  our  general  conception  of  evolution  is  correct,  the 
further  development  of  society  will  follow  a  very  different  course 
from  its  past  history,  in  that  it  is  destined  to  fall  within  the 
scope  of  an  organizing  intelhgence,  and  thereby  to  be  removed 
from  the  play  of  blind  force  to  the  sphere  of  rational  order. 
Such  a  change  must  be  gradual  and  attended  wdth  many  set- 
backs. The  very  ideas  which  are  to  direct  it  are  yet  in  their 
infancy.  Yet  the  social  self-consciousness  which  gives  them 
birth,  arrived  at  as  it  is  by  a  blending  of  the  moral,  the  scientific 
and  the  rehgious  spirit,  is  for  us  the  culminating  fact  of  ethical 
evolution.  But  such  an  end  can  only  be  a  beginning.  Mind 
grasps  the  conditions  of  its  development  that  it  may  master  and 
make  use  of  them  in  its  further  growth.  Of  the  nature  of  that 
growth,  whither  it  tends  and  what  new  shapes  it  wiU  evolve,  we 
as  yet  know  Httle.  It  is  enough  for  the  moment  to  reach  the 
idea  of  a  self-conscious  evolution  of  humanity,  and  to  find  therein 
a  meaning  and  an  element  of  purpose  for  the  historical  process 
which  has  led  up  to  it.  It  is,  at  any  rate,  sometking  to  learn — 
as,  if  our  present  conclusion  is  sound,  we  do  learn — that  this 
slowly  wrought  out  dominance  of  mind  in  things  is  the  central 
fact  of  evolution.  For  if  this  is  true  it  is  the  germ  of  a  rehgion 
and  an  ethics  which  are  as  far  removed  from  materiafism  as  from 
the  optimistic  teleology  of  the  metaphysician,  or  the  half  naive 
creeds  of  the  churches.  It  gives  a  meaning  to  human  effort, 
as  neither  the  pawn  of  an  overruling  Providence  nor  the  sport 
of  bhnd  force.  It  is  a  message  of  hope  to  the  world,  of  suffering 
lessened  and  strife  assuaged,  not  by  fleeing  from  reason  to  the 
bosom  of  faith,  but  by  the  increasing  rational  control  of  things 
by  that  collective  wisdom,  the  cts  ivv6<i  Xoyos,  which  is  all  that 
we  directly  know  of  the  Divine. 


INDEX 


Abortion,  468,  524 
Adoption  of  prisoners,  238 
Adultery,  186,  455 

Punishment   of,    74,    70,    89,    91, 

119,    135,    150,    174,    181,    180, 

192,    193,    195,   201,   205,   209, 

222 

Aged,    treatment    of,    340-1,    343, 

345 
Ainu,  166,  244,  339,  379,  432,  440 
Alabaster,  E.,  52,  87,  109,  194-6 
Aliens,  259,  297,  298,  338,  339 
Altruism,  580 

Ambrose,  214,  215,  262,  510,  520 
Amaineau,  186,  247,  342,  343 
America — 

British  Colonies  in,   125 

United  States  of,   127,   142 
Amos,  490,  492,  495 
Anabaptists,  522 
Angels,  500-2 
Ani,  186 
Animals — 

Duties  to,  475 

in  human  form,  484 

Intelligence  among,  7—10,  613-16 

Parental  affection  among,  6,  10 

Punishment  of,  86,  87 

Regulation  of  behaviour  among, 
1-10 

Social  life  of,  1,  6,  10 

Worship  of,  377,  407 
Animatism,  374 

Animism,  367-80,  383-7,  397,  405, 
624 

in    early    civilization,    406,    409, 
412,  415 

in     relation     to     morality,     419, 
424-30 
Ansehn,  507 
Anthropomorphism,      403-5,      407, 

409,  414,  416,  426 
Antisthenes,  562 
Apastatnba,   189 
Arabs,  373 
Arbitration,  258,  267 


Aristippua,  662 

Aristotle,    65,   204,   205,    267,    258, 

617,  554  seq.,  565 
Asceticism,  473,  524 
Asoka,  483 

Association,  right  of,  361-4 
Assyrians,  249 
Atonement,  444,  445,  507 
Augustine,  262,   263,  449-501,  509, 

510,  520,  622,  582 

Australians,    235,    241.    369,    370, 

382,  390,  391,  395,  396,  419,  434 

Exogamy  among,  45,  46,  135,  143 

Justice  among,  75,  82,  89,  95-8, 

103,   107,   117 
Totemism  among,  45 
Tribal  structure  of,  45-6,  52, 136-8 
Authority,  principle  of,  55  seq.,  69 

Babylon,    ancient,    133,    248,    249, 

380-2,   343,   400,  412-15,  441, 

442,   450-2 
Bancroft,  H.  H.,  72,  73,  92,  95 
Batchelor,   J.,    166,    244,   339,   379, 

432,  440 
Baudhayana,  189,  344 
Benefit  of  clergy,  123,  309 
Benefit  societies,   348 
Benevolence,  343,  381-3,  488,  636, 

538,  542 
and  Justice,  633 
Bentham,  J.,   126,  587-90 
Blot,  253 
Birth-rate,  6 
Blachstone,  219-22,  309 
Blessing,  421 
Blood-feud,  73  seq. 

and  composition,   75,   78 
and  retaliation,  73 
Gradual  suppression   of,    99-102 
Mitigation  of,  100  seq. 
Boaz,  Dr.  F.,  60,  90,  92,  162,  322, 

323,   390,   394,   395,   426,   432, 

434,  441 
Book  of  the  Dead,   185,  341,  443. 

450,  452-5 


639 


540 


INDEX 


Brahmanism,  459,  4G1,  470  seq. 
Doctrine  of  austerity,  472 
Doctrine  of  charity,  472 
Doctrine  of  penance,  472 
Ethical   conceptions,   472-7 
Theory  of  reaUty,  477 
Theory  of  the  self,  470,  471 
Breasted,  J.  H.,  108,  109,  328,  410, 

411,  457 
Bridges,  J.  H.,  693 
British  Empire,  228,  229 
Broivyi,  W.  Adams,  498-9,  503,  506 
Bruns,  C.  J.,  90,  20G-8,  236,  425 
Bryce,   Lord,    207,    208,    210,    217, 

230 
Buddhism,     127,     459,     477     seq., 
514-18 
Doctrine  of  Karma,  478,  479 
Doctrine  of  Nirvana,  478 
Ethical  conceptions,  475,  479  seq. 
Buddliist  Suttas,  479,  480,  482-3 
Bjidge,  E.  A.,  185,  341,  443,  452 
Busolt,  O.,  54,  204,  205,  206,  257-9, 
295,  296,   298,  340 

Calvin,  602-3,   508,  512,  521 
Cambridge    expedition,     160,     165, 

173,  328,  437 
Cambridge  Natural  History,   4 
Cannibalism,  239,  240-2 

and   human   sacrifice,    408,    409, 
464 
Canon  law,  113,  144,  148,  213  seq., 
262,   263,   508,   509,   510,   613, 
614,   520-2,  581,   582 
Carpenter,  Dr.  J.  E.,  490,  495 
Caste,  57,  271,  272,  474 
Criticism  of,  292 
in  India,  290-2,  344 
in  modern  civilization,  309,  315 
in  the  uncivilized  world,  274 
Categories,  645,  618-20 
Catlin,  Q.,  29,   167,  236,  238,  239, 

339,  340,   341,  392 
Charity,  341,  463,  466,  467 
Chastity,  172-4,  192,  193,  243,  481 
Children,  238,  250,  257,  260,  338-9 
China — 

Ethical    conceptions,    68,    86-7, 
109,  127,  133,  253  seq..  Part  II, 
ch.  V. 
Family,  193-7 
Law  and  custom,  293,  343 
Magical  conceptions,  383 
Religious  conceptions,  368,  379 
Christianity,  221,    262-4,   279,   301 
seq.,  312,  313,   348 
See  Monotheism. 


Church — 

and  state,  568 

and  the  world,  519  seq. 

Influence  of,  213  seq.,   262,   301 

Primitive,    519 
Cicero,  210 
Citizenship,  Principle  of,  43,  60  seq.. 

559,  560 
Clan  system,  47-9,  51 
Class  distinctioBSj-'Part— 1-,    ch.   vii, 
— -TIT  modern  Europe,  318  seq.,  543 
Classification — 

Difficulties  of,  31  secj. 

of  the  simpler  peoples,  38  seq. 
Codes,  multiplicity  of,  23,  24 
Codrington,  163,  167,  346,  398,  421, 

434 
Common  good,  639 
Communism,  322  seq. 
Comparative  ethics — 

Difficulties  of,  25  seq. 

Method  of,  26  seq. 

Scope  of,  18,  19,  23-6,  35,  36 
Compurgation,    115 
Concubinage,    133,    180,    182,    185, 

194,  198,  203,  205,  207 
Confessioh,  441,  474 
Confucius,  127,  517,  628-35,  543 
Conquered  communities,  treatment 

of,  260,  261 
Conscience,  571 
Conservatism,  493 
Constantine,  216,  523 
Contract,  in  early  law,  333-4 
Contract  labour,  314 
Cornish,  C,  6 

Council  of  Trent,  508,  510,  511,  514 
Criticism,  545,  546 

Philosophic,  620,  621 
Curr,  E.  M.,  75,  96,  440 
Curses,  magical  effect  of,  421,  42" 
Custom,  1,  539,  624,  630,  031 

and  habit,  12 

and  law,  61 

and  tradition  12 

Factors  in  growth  of,  12-14,  30, 
402,  446,  616,  617 

Sanctity     of,     among     primitive 
man,  17,  18 

Penalty  for  breach  of,  420  seq. 
Cynics,  662 

Dalton,  E.,  170,  394,  395,  432,  43f 
Danks,  143 

Dareste,  R.,  86,  202,  281 
Debt,  punishment  of,  76,  82 
De  Groot,  J.  J.  H.,    196,   368,   369. 
370,  371,  372,  383,  485,  538 


INDEX 


641 


Deity,   conception   of,   248-50,   260 
See  Monotheism  and  Polytheism. 
Democracy,  66 
Demons,  412,  464-7 
Desire,  598-600,  615-16 
Determinism,   503-5 
Deuteronomy,    198,    199,   236,   250, 

251,  288,  345,  490,  493 
Dhanunapada,  483-5 
Dicey,  Prof.,  608 
Dill,  Prof.,  211,  348 
Diodorus,    183,   283,   286,   319,   378 
Dionysius,  206,  207 
Divorce.   See  Marriage. 
Dorsey,  J.  A.,  79,  99,  157,  326,  388, 

391 
Douglas,  R.  K.,  194,  195,  196,  379, 

539 
Driver,  S.  R.,  199,  490 
Dualism,  470 

Duel,  Judicial,  59,  112,  113,  116 
Non-judicial,    113 
of  abuse,  96 
Duncker,   M.,    128,    188,   252,   253, 

291 
Durkheim,  Prof.,  400,  401 
Duty,  570 
Dyaks,  26,  376 

Ecclesiasticus,  Book  of,  200,  289 
Egoism,  578 
Egyptians,   144 

Ethical  conceptions,  28,  58,  341- 

3, 453-8 
Family,   183  seq. 
Law  and  custom,  150,  179,  282-6, 

319 
Religious  conceptions,   369,  406- 

12,  438,  441,  443-4 
Warfare  among,  247-8 
Ellis,    A.    B.,    83,    143,    151,     157, 
166,   240,   273,   402,  403,   425, 
431 
Elmira  system,  127 
Endogamy,    142  seq. 
England,  508 
Family  in,  228 

Justice  in  Anglo-Saxon,  82,  86 
Justice  in  mediaeval,  76  seq.,  86, 
101,  118  seq.,  121  seq.,  320-1, 
350 
Modern  law,   123  seq.,   144,  325, 
351 
Epictetus,  517,  564,  565 
Erumys,  369,  427-9 
Erman,    A.,    187,    248,    283,    284, 

342 
Esmein,  A.,  120 
T  T 


Ethical    conceptions — 
Development  of,  618  seq. 
Difficulties  of  comparing,  27,  28 
in  early  culture,  446,  623-5 
in    oriental    civilization,    449-58, 

462-9 
Rationalist,  544 

Ethical  consciousness,  449 

Ethics  as  regulation  of  life,  613 

Evangelicals,    125 

Evil,  495,  496,  499-503,  634 

Evolution,  self-conscious,  637 

Exodus,   Book   of,    287,    320,    345. 
491 

Exogamy,  50,  51,  135,  142  seq. 

Experience,    385-7 

Animals  learning  by,  613  seq. 
Correlation  of,  613  seq. 

Ezekiel,  494,  496 

Factory  Acts,  335 
Faith,  508,  513-15,  626 
Family — 
Joint,  49 

Patriarchal,  49,  53.     See  Father- 
right;  Mother-right;  Marriage. 
Farnell,  L.  R.,  413,  429,  430 
Father-right,  47,  51,  143,  159  seq., 

168,    178-9 
Feudalism,  56,  57 
Flinders    Petrie,    W.   M.,    41,    186, 

247,   248,   283,   455-7 
Food,  magic  influence  on,  381 
Forgiveness,    483,    484,    518,    533, 

534,  625 
Fornication,   185,  477 
forbidden,  201,  213,  215 
Punishment    of,    194,    209,    216, 
222 
Fowle,  T.  W.,  350,  351 
France — 

The  family,   224,   225,   226 
Law  and  custom,  87,  120-2,  126, 
306,  307,  310 
Franciscua  a  Victoria,  263,  267 
Frazer,  J.   G.,  242,  367,  368,   372, 
376,   377,   378,   381,   383,   403, 
404,  439-41 
Free-wiil,  500  seq. 
French  Revolution,  585,   586 
Friedlander,  L.,  211,  348 
Friends,  Society  of,  125,   267,  313, 

523 
Future  judgment,  626 
life,  431  seq.,  441,  468,  47-* 

Oaius,  209 
Gambling,  538 


642 


INDEX 


Gardiner,  108,  109,  183-4,  187,  411, 

455,  458 
Oaidama,  192 
General  will,  61 

Genesis,  Book  of,  197,   198,  490 
Germans,    76,    91,    101,    112,    122, 
142,    161,    165,    178,   213,   218, 
220,  226,  300,  311,  340 
Girard,  P.  F.,  52,  207,  209,  210,  298, 

299,  321,  330,  333 
Goddard,  P.  E.,  95 
Godden,    Gertrude,     79,     142,     151, 

242,  243,  274,  319,  394 
Good,  conception  of,   19,  544,  551 
seqo 
affected  by  non-moral  causes,  19 
affected  by  religious  ideas,  19,  20 
affected  by  social  changes,  20-22 
The  common,  60,  62,  63 
Government,  60,  61,  67,  68 

Duties  of,  639-40 
Grace,  509,  513 
Gratian.     See  Canon  law. 
Great  Man,  the,  530,  636 
Great  Spirit,  393 
Greek  Church,  225 
Greeks,    ancient,     111,     135,     160, 
346-7 
Ethical  conceptions,  548 
Family  among,  203-6 
Law  and  custom  of,  256-8,  296-8 
Magical  conceptions  of,  421 
Philosophy    of,    258,    259,    299, 
417,   644  seq.,   669,   675,   601, 
604 
Religious    conceptions    of,    373, 
416-17,  427-30,  438 
Griffith,    F.    LI.,    183-7,    286,    343, 

412,  444,  452,  453,  456-6 
Grote,  G.,  135 

Grotius,  259-64,  267,  302,  582 
Group — 

Marriage.     See  Marriage. 
Morality,    Part    I,    chs.    vi,   vii, 

355,  547,  623-6 
Organization     and     government, 

45  seq. 
Relationship,  47 

Hagen,  B.,  43,  44,  96,  140,  436 

Hall,  W.  E.,  263 

Hammurabi,     48,    74,    77,    82,    86, 

109,  180-3,  281,  287,  321,  327 
Happiness,  555,  563,  571,  672,  580, 

597,  600 
Harnack,   498,   507,   509,   510,   511 
Harrison,  J.  E.,  415-17,  421,  428 
Hartley,  672 


Hawes,  41 

Head-hunting,  26,  242-3,  245 

Hebrew   Prophets,    251,    252,    345, 

490  seq. 
Hebrews — 

Ethical  development  of,  492  seq. 

Family  life,    197-200 

Law  and   custom,   84-5,   88,   90, 

101,    118,    144,    148,    155,    167, 

260-2,   286-9,    320,    330,    346 
Religious  development,  90,  250-2, 

489  seq. 
Hedonism,   662 
Hegel,   590,   694,   695 
Heraclitus,  549 
Heredity — 

Effect  upon  behaviour,   3,   5,   6, 

7,  8,  613-14,  635,  636 
and  character,   10-12 
in  man,  11 
Herodotus,  66,  138,  204,  236,  257-8, 

296,  430 
Hesiod,  346 
Hobbes,  571,  584 
Homer,  29,  203,  256,  295 
Homicide,  76,  76,  84-6,  94,  99,  107. 

110,  111 
Hospitality,  236,  338-9,  342,  344 
Howard,  O.  E.,  124,  126,  134,  148, 

149,    150,    151,   153,   212,   213, 

214,  216,  217,  222,  223,  230 
Howitt,   A.    W.,   44-6,   74-5,   90-1, 

95,    97,     103,     167,     174,    325. 

391-2,  395-6,  425,  436 
Hughes,  T.  P.,  200,  201,  293-4 
Hvimanitarianism,  609-612 
Humanity,    268,    316,    317,    356-7, 

360,  364,  543,  590  seq.,  606-8, 

626-7 
Hmnan    sacrifice,    240,    242,    247, 

274 
Hume,  572 
Humility,  483,  666 
Huth,  A.  H.,  144,  145 

Idealism,  527  seq.,   674,   626 
Ideals,  varying  effect  of,  upon  con- 
duct, 23-5 
Ihering,  R.  von,  52,  91 
Impulse    and    desire,    9,    698-600, 

614-15 
India — 

Family  life,  48,  49,  135,  142,  143, 

161,    188-93 
Law  and  custom,  252-3,  289-93, 

344 
Religious      conceptions,      461-4, 
470  seq. 


INDEX 


643 


Individual  and  society,  569,  570 

Indulgences,  511 

Infanticide,   206,   218,   339,   340 

Ingram,  J.  K.,  300,  310-14 

Inquest,   119 

Instinct,  4-6,  145-6 

in  man,  11,  15 
Intelligence,  growth  of,  614  seq. 

Human,    616 
International  law,  257,  264,  265 

right,  266-9 
Intuitionism,   572 
Isaiah,  Book  of,  252,  493-5 
Islam,    200-2,   293-5 

Japan,  86,  87,   119,   133,   168 

Jastrow,  M.,  412-15,  442 

Jenks,  E.,  118 

Jeremiah,   Book  of,   288,   493,   496 

Jerome,  520 

Jeune,SirF.,2QQ 

Jevons,  F.  B.,  373,  398,  421 

Johns,  C.  H.  W.,  180,  181 

Joint  family,  79 

Judges,  Book  of,  251,  489 

Justice,  phases  in  the  development 
of,  70  seq.,  550,  552  seq. 
Blood-feud,  the,  73  seq.,  81  seq., 

130 
Composition,  75  seq.,  130 
Early  procedure,  114  seq. 
Execution  of  sentence,   118 
Growth  of  public,  88  seq.,  354-5 
Influence   of   Central   Authority, 

94,  97,   101 
Influence  of  rank,  77,  78 
inside  the  clan,  79,  80,  103 
inside  the  family,  79 
in  the  modern  state,  124  seq. 
Outside  the  clan,  79,  80,  103 
Period  of  severity,  122-4 
Principle   of   collective   responsi- 
bility, 81-3,  87,  88 

Justinian,   623 

Kant,  573  seq. 

Kidd,  B.,  595 

Kings,  Book  of,  251,  286,  489 

Kingsley,  Mary,  370,  371 

Kinship — 

Affinity  as  basis  of,  143 
Classifioatory,  137,  143 
Society  based  on,  43  seq.,  53-4 

Kohler,  J.,  78,  82,  89,  90,  133,  138, 
139,  149,  150,  163,  165,  167, 
168,    171,    176,    180,   326 

Kohler  and  Peiaer,  48,  182,  183 


Koran,    202,    261,    339,    346,    497, 

508 
Kovalevsky,  M.,  138,  330 
Kropotkin,  Prince,  416 
Kuenen,  491 

Labourer,  position  of,  in  England, 

308-10,   349-51 
La  Cour  and  Appel,  41 
Laffitte,  P.,  343 
Lao-Tsze,  475,   485  seq.,   516 
Law,  61,  65 

Basis  of,  550,  551.     See  Justice. 
Lecky,  W.  E.  H.,  221,  523 
Legge,  O.,   194,  253,  293,  343,  538 
Leist,  B.    W.,   203,   204,   425,   428, 

431 
Letourneau,  C,  134,  151,  157,  170, 

173,   204,   235,   242,   245,   246, 

259,  260,  273-5,  279,  280,  300 
Levirate,  The,   157,  193 
Leviticus,  Book  of,    199,   288,   345 
Liberty,  67,  68,  358-60,  586  seq. 
Life,  sanctity  of,  475,  480 
Lloyd-Morgan,  C,  2,  6 
Loch,  C.  S.,  345-51 
Locke,  583 
Luther,  508,  512 
Lyall,  ^.,373 

Magic,  380-7,  397,  408,  409 

and    morals,     243,    318,     420-3, 

445,  467,  473 
and  mysticism,  485,  486 
and    religion,    397-8,    401,    424, 
439,  444,  445,  468,  491,  492 
Maine,  H.  S.,   161,  333-4 
Malays,  47-9,  78,  81,  151,  166,  168, 

172,  368 
Man,  E.  H.,  71,  143,  239,  340 
Mana,  242,  387 

Manu,    48,   52,    109,    161,    189-93, 
253,   290,  291,   334,    344,  364, 
472,  474-6 
Marcus  Aurelius,  517,  568 
Marett,  R.  R.,  374,  388,  389 
Marriage,    by    capture,     162,     153, 
163,   164,   189 
by  con.sent,  152,  156-8,  190,  194, 

209,  213 
by   consideration   rendered,    152, 

154,   164 
by  exchange,    156 
by  go-betweens,    194 
by  purchase,   154,   157,  165,    180, 

188,   189,   197 
by  service,    155,    197 
contracts,   182,   183,   186 


644 


INDEX 


Marriage — 

Dissolution  of  (Law  of  divorce), 

in  European  civilization,  204, 

207,   208,   210,  211,    214-17, 

222,    225-31 

in  oriental  civilization,   180-1, 

184,  191,  195,  197,  198-9,  200 

in  uncivilized  world,   147  seq., 

172,   178 
under  varying  conditions,   147 
seq.,   225-31 
Group,  135-8 
Law    and    custom    relating    to, 

Part  I,  chs.  iv,  v. 
Monogamous,  133,  140,  141 
Polyandrous,  134,  135,  141,  176, 

178 
Polygamous,   133,   139,   140,   141, 
172,    178,    181,    185,    188,    194, 
200,  201 
Poly  gy  nous,  133 
Promiscuous,  138,  178 
Questions  concerning,  133 
Religious  conception  of,  159 
Restrictions  on,  52,  53,   142  seq. 
Varying  relations  of  husband  and 
wife,    159,    167  seq.,    179,    183, 

188,  195-7,   199-200,  203,  208- 
10,   218  seq. 

Married    Women's    Property  Acts, 

223 
Martin,  R.,  43,  44,   140,  391 
Maspero,  O.,  58,    185,   282-4,   318, 

342,  406-10,  420 
Materialism,  493 
Matriarchy,  47,  159,  187 
Max   Muller,    W.,    144,    185,    187, 

283 
May7ie,  J.  D.,  48,  49,  52,   135,   16 1, 

189,  327,  330 
Mazdaism,  364,  374,  467,  468 
Meissner,   B.,    48,    182,    280,    281, 

282 
Melanesians,  383,  387,  420 
Mencius,  255-6,  531,  535-41 
Middle   Ages,    112,    113,    120,    121, 

212  seq.,  301-8,  310,  311 
Influence  of  Church  in,  112,  120, 

128,  131,  144,  568 
Mill,  J.,  572 

Mill,  John  Stuart,  572,  589 
Modern  ethics,  568  seq. 
Mohammed,  80,  200-2 
Mohammedanism,      261-2,     278-9, 

498,   503,   508,   515 
Mohammedan  law,  82,  86,  110,  133, 

144 
Mommam,  T.,  52,  112,  261 


Monogamy,  524 

in  early  civilization,   185 
in  European  civiHzation,   215 
in  oriental  civilization,   198 
in  uncivilized  world,  133,  140-1 
Monotheism — 

Approaches  to,  489 

Conception  of  the  deity,  496  seq. 

Effect  of  ethical  teaching,  522 

Ethical,   496  seq. 

Ethical  conceptions  of,  497,  506 

seq.,  515  seq. 
exclusive  salvation,  508 
in  early  Judaism,  489  seq. 
Tendency   to,  in  early  religionr-, 
391-6,  409-12,  415,  460,  463, 
489  seq. 
Montefiore,    C.    O.,    200,    489,    491, 

495,  496 
Morality — 

Conditions  of  advance  in,  18,  31 
Instinctive  elements  in,   14 
Relation   to  sympathy,    15 
Moral  sanctions  in  early  thoup'it, 
419  seq.,  508,  547 
Moral  standard,  31,  558  seq. 
affected   by  reciprocity,    16 
affected   by  self-interest,   16 
based  on  human  character,  14-16 
Fundamental   uniformity   of,    28 
related  to  social  conditions,  16-18, 

22,  31,  33  seq. 
Varying   effectiveness    of,    23-25 
Morgan,  L.  H.,  49,  50,  78,  141,  170, 

326,   338,   339,  441 
Morice,  49,  323,  329 
Mother,  respect  for,  186 
Mother-right,    47,    49,    51,    159-61, 

167  seq.,  179,  187,  197 
Muir,  T.,  188,  290,  292,  462,  463, 

464 
Mysticism,    416,    417,    470-3,    485 

seq. 
Myth-making,   389  seq. 

Natural  rights,  584  seq. 
Natural  selection,  5 
Nature,  518,  550 

as    foundation    of     virtue,     630. 

536-8,  542,  553  seq.,  558,  562, 

569,  571,  583 
Law  of,  264,  562  seq.,  571,  581 

seq.,  627 
Nationalism,    362 
Niyoga,  custom  of,   193 
Non-resistance,  262,  267 
North  American  Indians,  49,  50,  79, 

89,  90,  92,  134,  139,  141,  142, 


INDEX 


645 


149,  157,    167,    169,    170,  172, 

175,  236,   238,   241,   242,  215, 

275,  319,    326,    338-41,  376, 

390,  392,   394,   420,   424,  432, 

434,  441 

Numbers,  Book  of,   199,  250,  330, 
491 

Oath,  115,  116,  131 

Obligation,  555,  575  seq.,  623,  628 

Old,  W.  O.,  485-7 

Omnipotence,  499-506,  627 

Oppert,  O.,  282 

Ordeals,  97,  116,  117 

Owen,  R.,2U 

Paine,  Tom,  584-6 
Pabner,  R.  H.,  81,  417,  498,  508 
Pantheism,  410,  459,  498 
Parents,  duty  to,  538, 

Rights  of,   183 
Parker,  Mrs.  K.  L.,  117,  150,  156, 

395,  434 
Paternity,    163 
Patriarchate,  47,  149,  159,  183,  188, 

195,  197,  203,  206,  212,  462 
Payne,  E.  J.,  32,  342,  370,  438 
Peace,  Ideal  of,  252  seq.,  267,  495 
Peasantry,  in  modern  Europe,  311 
Pelagius,  500 
Penance,  509  seq. 
Perfection,  483,  485 
Personality,   193,  358  seq.,  560 

Transference  of,   238 
Pharisaism,  423 
Philosophic  life,   560,  561 
Pike  L.  O.    124 
Plato,   i6,'205,  258,  296,  517,   552 

seq.,  556,  557,  568 
Pleasure    and    pain,    8,    572,    596, 

599,  600 
Pollock  and  Maitland,   74,   76,   77, 
86,    101,    115,    119,    121,    128, 
218,   219,   302,   307,   319,   320, 
520 
Polyandry,   134,   135,  205 
Polvgamv,  33,  132-4,   139-41,   178, 
"  181,'  182,    185,    188,    192,   198, 
200,  201,  213 
in  European  civilization,  215 
Polytheism,    402-6,     409,     416   18, 

■^428-30,  459,  490 
Poor — 

in  classical  civiUzations,  346-8 
in  Middle  Ages,  348-50 
in  modern  Europe,  350-3 
in  oriental  civilizations,  341-6 
Popular  Sovoreignty,  360 


Post,  A.  H.,  48,  52,  74,  76,  78,  79, 
81,  82,  83,  84,  86,  87,  101,  116, 
119,  133,  142,  148,  149,  150, 
151,  155,  157,  160,  165,  166, 
167,  173-5,  239,  245,  273,  279, 
319,  326,  333,  424 
Poivell,  J.  W.,  48,  103 
Powers,  S.,  91,  139,  149,  175,  239, 

394,  435 
Prayer,     413-16,     426,     442,     443, 

450-2,  468 
Predestination,  500  seq. 
Primitive  thought,  27 
Prisoners,  treatment  of,  237  seq. 
Private  judgment,  570 
Progress,  30,  36,  634  seq. 
Promiscuity,  133,  138 
Property,    Part    I,    eh.    viii,    447, 

522,  608 
Protestantism,  144,  222.  See  Calvin 

and  Luther. 
Proverbs,  Book  of,   198 
Ptah-Hotep,  185,   186,  527 
Punishment,   by  branding,    126 
by  imprisonment,   126,   127 
by  mutilation,   128 
by  transportation,  126 
Capital,   126-8,  535 
Eternal,   500  seq. 
Future,  431  seq.,  626 
Growth  of  severity  in,   122-4 
Public,  89,  90,   100,   104,  seq. 
Reform  of,  in  modern  times,  124 

seq. 
Rational  conception  of,  124  seq. 
Purification,  476 
Purpose,  2-3 

Quarter,   244,   245,   249,   252,   253, 
258,  260,  262 
Refused,  237,  239  seq.,  249,  253, 
256,  269,  262 

Ransom,  257 

Rationalism,  572  seq.,  607,  611, 
626-7 

Rationalists,    125 

Ratzel,  26,   151,   167,   172,  274,  276 

ReaHty,  548,  596,  622 

Reason  and  desire,   572  seq. 

Reclns,  E.,  134,  135,  144,  151,  171, 
234,  236,  244,  275,  340,  341, 
376,    377,    419,    421,   431,   432 

Reflex  action,  2,  3,  613 

Regicide,  541 

Relativity,   606-9 

Religion,  398,  469,  460 
as  ground  of  social  union,  43 


646 


INDEX 


Religion — 

Development   of,    619  seq. 

Relation  to  ethics,  591  seq. 
Sec  Animism,  Polytheism,  Mo- 
notheism, etc. 
Remorse,  422,423 
Repentance,  474,  492 
Responsibility,   83  seq. 

Collective,  81,  82 

Individual,  128,  129 

vicarious,  81 
Retaliation.     See  Justice. 
Retribution,  469 
Rhys  Davids,  T.  W.,  475,  480-3 
Rightlessness,   273,   277,   285,   286, 

295,  297,  299 
Rights — 

Gradation   of,  272,   277-80,  291, 
301,  305,  309, 

in  modern  state,   130,   131 

in      primitive      and      advanced 
thought,  129,  60 

Personal,  60  seq. 
Robertson  Smith,  118,  345,  444 
Roman  Jurists,  299,  566 
Rome — 

Early  conditions,  59,  259-61 

Family  life,  148,  178,  206-12,  340 

Government,  90,   110,   122 

Law  and  custom,   298-300,  321, 
330,  347-8 

Religions  conceptions,  373,  429 
Roth,  W.  E.,  47,  98,  103,  107,  106, 

395,  436 
Roiunania,  225 
Rousseau,  584,  585 
Russia,  225,  311 

Sacrifice,  409,  444,  464,  492 
Samuel,  Book  of,  489,  491 
Satan,  496 
Saussaye,  P.  de  la,  373,  393-4,  404 


How  far  comparable  to  primitive 

men,  25 
Moral  qualities  of,  25,  26,  27 
Sayee,  A.  H.,  248,  249,  342 
Scandinavia,  227 
Scape-goat,  439 
Schmidt,    144,    150,    163,    165,    245, 

275    340 
Schoolcrajt,  92,   141,   149,  159,  238, 

243,    275,    326,    339-41,    394, 

420 
Schoolcraft-Drake,     149,    239,    243, 

319,   339,   394,  420 
Schroder,  R.,  77,  91,  101,  115,  120, 

122,  301-3,  305,  306,  333,  340 


Science,  633 
Scotland,   228 
Self,  470,  471 

assertion,  515,  624 

denial,  524 

development,  561,  629 

interest,  16 

sacrifice,  570 

suppression,  561,  615,  629 
Seligmann,  C.  O.,  43,  44,  140,  171, 

324,  396,  400,  425,  437,  438 
Serfdom,    57,    271,    278,    279,    283, 
284,  296,  297,  300,  304  seq.,  350 
Servia,  225 

She-King,  194-7,  253,  254,  293,  343 
Shoo-King,  254,  343 
Sidgwich,  A.,  428 
Sidgwick,  H.,  65 

"  Simpler  Peoples,"  39,  54,  76,  78, 
83,    105,    117,    153,    162,    166, 
171,    174,    175,    177,   234,   238, 
244,  275,  329,  340 
Sin,  507 

purging,  439,  442 
Slavery,   122 

Abolition  of,  312  seq. 

and  forced  labour,  314 

Conditions  of,  57,  59,  66,  244,  272 

Criticism  of,  229 

for  debt,  277,  280,  281,  296,  299 

General  conception  of,   271,   272 

Grades  of,  277,  278 

Hereditary,  277 

in    Oriental    civilization,    280-95 

in  uncivilized   world,   272-80 

Modern   Negro,   312-14 

of  co-religionists  forbidden,  293, 
294 

Question  of,  258-9 
Slaves — 

Domestic  and  foreign,  286-9 

Duty  to,  344 

Manumission      of,      encouraged, 

294,  303,  310 

Position   of,   in   England,   308 

Prohibition  to  recruit  from  cap- 
tives,   261-3,    301,    302 

Protection  of,  198,  277-81,  286-9, 
293,  296 

recruited  from  captives,  239, 
244  seq.,  250,  256,  257,  260, 
262,    273,   274,   275,   277,    282, 

295,  296 
Slave-trade,  280,  293,  302, 

Abolition  of,  313,  314 
Social  changes,  20-2 
Sociahsts,  522 
Social  organization,  43  seq. 


INDEX 


647 


Social  reform,  493,  633 

Socrates,  544,  551,  555 

Sophists,  549,  550 

Sorcerers,  Punishment  of,  81,  89 

Soul,  317  seq. 

Spencer,  H.,  168 

Spencer  and  Gillen,  Messrs.,  45,  46, 
75,  86,  89,  136,  157,  Ifia,  164, 
175,    235,   241,   322,   370,   377, 

381,  389-91,  393,  419,  420,  425 
Spirit,  471 

in  evolution,  506,  594  seq.,  621, 
622,  629  seq. 
Spirits,  278,  279,  391-6,  424,  461, 
464 

appeasing,   444 

punish  immoral  actions,  440 
Spiritual  religion,  487,  488,   628 
Starcke,  C.  M.,  144,  173 
State,  60  seq.   88 

The  City,  64  seq. 

The  modern,   67  seq.,    130,    131, 
357  seq. 

Theory  of,  686  seq. 
Steinmetz,  M.,  81,  SB,   167,  327 
Stoics,  303,  562  seq. 
Supernatural,   518 
Sutherland,  ^.,88 
Swanton,  J.  R.,  80,  322,  329,  434 
Sympathy,    15 

Taboo,   55,  88  seq.,   146,  318,   378, 

387,  420-21,  423,  440,  446 
Tacitus,  83,  259,  326 
Taoism,  460,  485  seq. 
Taylor,   120,  602 

Theft,  punishment  of,  76,  319  seq. 
Thomas  Aquinas,   349,  498 
Thucydides,   256-8,  296,   550 
Torture,   121-3,  238,  239,  249,  253 
Totemism,   45,   46,    143,    144,   377, 

382,  397,  401 
Trade  guilds,  348 
Trade  unionism,  361 
Tradition,  12-14,  616,  617,  635  seq. 
Traditional     morality,     547,     549, 

617,  623,  624 
Transmigration,  369,  474 
Treaties,  248 
Tribal  union,  49  seq. 
Tribute,  251 
Truth,  466,  476 
Tylor,  E.  B.,  82,  143,  153,  164,  318, 

367-9,  371,  376,  392,  426,  431, 

432 

Ulpian,  209,  210,  299 
United  States,  229,  230 


Univorsalism,   261,   303,   316,    495, 

517,  543,  564 
Upanishads,   344,   470-73 
Usury,  345,  346,  477 
Utilitarianism,    125,    572,    587  seq. 

Validity,  576,  577 

Vedas,  252,  462,  463,  470 

Vengeance,  72  seq.,  309 

Vice,   556-7 

Vineya  texts,   482,   484 

Vinogradov,    Prof.,    52,    161,    216, 

303,   300,   307,  308 
VioUet,  P.,  209,  214-16,   218,  221, 

224,  301,  302,  312,  313,  330 
Virtue  for  its  own  sake,  485,  528, 

551  seq. 

Wace  and  Buchheim,  608 
WaiUng  for  the  dead,  368 
Waitz,  O.,  76,  83,  213 
Waitz,  T.,  45,  75,  78,  81,  83,  142, 
151,    166-8,    170,    173,    235-7, 
239-46,  273-5,  281,  319,  320, 
338,  431,  438,  440,  441 
Wallace,  A.  R.,  5 
War,  234  seq. 

Chivalry  in,  236,  253,  264 
Ethics  of,  476 

in    classical    civilization,    256-61 
in  early  civilization,  246  seq. 
in  imcivihzed  world,  72,  234  seq. 
in  Western  Europe,  262  seq. 
Just  and  imjust,   262,   276,   267 
unknown   among  some  savages, 
234 
Wergild,  77,  78,  300 
Westermarck,  E.,  52,  87,   135,   144, 
148,  155,  166,  167,  171-6,  203, 
338,  340,  419 
Widow,  position  of,   188,   195 
Wilamowitz-Mdllendorf,      U.      von, 

203,  205,  297,  330 
Wilcox,  W.  F.,  230 
W;  !,  599-600,  616 
Wines,  F.  H.,  125-7 
Wisdom  literature,  495 
Wissowa,  404,  429 
Witchcraft,    84,    89,    117,    409,   413 
Wollstonecraft,  Mary,  223 
Women,  476,  481,  484,  485 

Attitude  to,    199,  200,  202,  203, 

205,  211,  212,  221,  222,  232 
Equality  with  men,   186-8 
Position  of,  31,  132  seq.,  203  seq., 

355 
among     uncivilized     races,     71, 
167  seq. 


648 


INDEX 


Women — 

in  English  law,  219  seq. 

in  oriental  civilization,   179  seq., 

183-8, 190,  191,  195-6,  199-202 
in      relation      to      marriage-law, 

132,   159  seq. 
Rights  of   unmarried,  in  Middle 

Ages,  219 
Rights  of  unmarried,  in  modern 

period,  220 
Treatment  of,  in  war,  237,  243-4, 

248,  250,  252,  256-7,  259 


Xenophon,  206,   267 
Yahveh,  405,  489  seq. 

Zechariah,  495 

Zend  Avesta,  86,  464-9 

Zeno,  549 

Zeus,   403-5,   416 

Zimmern,  A.  E.,  205,  206,  2» 

Zimmern,  H.,  442,  450 

Zulus,  371 


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